Kyle and Jason are brothers in every way that counts but Jason just doesn’t understand what it’s like when your life takes a wrong turn at 28.
KYLE —
He tripped up the back stairs, slamming his head into the wooden screen door. “Shiiiiiit, shhhhh – don’t want to wake Kyra up,” Kyle muttered to himself as he manhandled his key into the lock. After 20 seconds he realized the problem. Kyle was trying to force the Chevy’s ignition key into the door lock, with only limited success. Okay, maybe he had gone one or two beers over his limit, but he was home now. All Kyle had to do now was get upstairs and into bed without waking Kyra up.
He stepped on a shoe that was lying in the middle of the floor, wrenching his back. ‘Dammit’, he groaned through clenched teeth.
From all appearances, Kyle was an incredibly fit 28-year-old. Beer drinking and the recent forced inactivity had failed to relax his taut abdominal muscles. His shoulders and biceps continued to display the sculpted physique that was the product of years of quarry work. How cosmically unfair life was; this body, which looked so capable of moving mountains, had now betrayed him so completely.
Five years ago, Kyle’s body had told him, in no uncertain terms, that it was tired of throwing around 100 lb. slabs of granite. The ultimate rebellion came when he blew three discs in his back. For almost a year, Kyle had divided his time between bed rest and physical therapy as he watched his workers’ compensation insurance run out. Ultimately, the doctor had rendered his final decree. If Kyle was fond of walking, he would have to find a career where the heaviest thing he could lift would be a phone book. That was kind of a tall order for someone who had spent his life using his brawn rather than his brain. So far, it was an order he had been unable to fill.
He moved more cautiously, looking for any other pain-inflicting land mines. Kyle went back and took his shoes off in the mudroom. Five years of nagging had accomplished that much at least. Kyra should be happy about that. God, how had things gotten so screwed up?
Kyra had been so much fun in the beginning; adventurous, energetic and up for anything – no matter how crazy. Being with her was like being with one of the guys, with the added benefit of unlimited sex. That bubble had burst pretty quickly. Now, after eight years together, Kyle was living with a scaled-down version of her mother. An involuntary shudder raced up his spine at the very thought of it. Kyra had morphed into her mother’s clone. The transformation was not a pleasant one.
Nora Blakely was an embittered, shrewish woman. Her one true joy in life seemed to be in creating a hell-on-earth for her husband, Byron. Apparently enough was never enough for Nora, who needed little or no provocation to turn nagging into an Olympic event. Sadly for Byron, Nora’s gold medal standing in this event was unchallenged. A picture of Byron’s thin, bent frame flooded Kyle’s mind as he wondered if that would be him in 20 years.
Kyle made his way up the stairs with one hand on the wall and the other on the banister. If the ground didn’t stop wobbling underfoot, he was gonna hurl. That would be a real crowd-pleaser he thought, smiling to himself. The smile was quickly replaced by a grimace, as he thought of what retribution would be in store for such a transgression. Yelling, pouting, the silent treatment and withholding sex; Kyra would use her full arsenal.
Kyle had embellished a little for Jason’s sake. Sex once a week was when things were going well. Things hadn’t been ‘going well’ for a long time. Catching him coming in drunk like this could easily mean a month-long dry spell. That was okay with Kyle. Tonight had been worth it. After all, lately the sex had not been anything to lose sleep over. Given the choice, he often chose a nap over their recently uninspired romps in the sack.
They used to have mind-blowing sex. Now things were different. When Kyra did relent, she did little more than just lay there until he was finished. Kyle had seen packages of ground beef that were livelier than Kyra on these occasions.
Kyle paused at the bedroom door, listening for Kyra’s breathing. It sounded regular enough. Hopefully she was asleep. Quietly, shedding layers of clothes as he went, Kyle walked across the room until he was beside the bed in his underwear. Moving the blankets aside, Kyle sat on the edge of the bed. He rejected thoughts of taking off his socks. Bending over to perform such a task in his current condition could have disastrous results. He eased himself down, gingerly raising one leg and then the other into bed. Hugging the edge of the mattress, Kyle struggled against any movement that would disturb the current calm. Little by little he allowed his muscles to relax.
“So…it seems like somebody had a good time,” Kyra said from the darkness.
‘Crap,’ all that effort for nothing. “How long have you been awake?” he asked.
“I haven’t been to sleep. How could I? I was too busy wondering if you were wrapped around a tree somewhere. Would it have killed you to call?”
And so it began.
Kyle got up to use the bathroom. If he had to endure this, he wouldn’t do it with a full bladder.
Get your copy of ‘The Little Insanity’ by Janus Kane now, for only $3.99
Return to Gomorrah 