I don’t need to spell it out do I? I mean I’m in love with someone else. It’s cliché, it’s monotonous, but, goddamn it, it’s the truth. And I hate her. Honestly, I hate her sometimes. Never when I’m around her. Then I just keep looking at her. Right at her face. Then she turns towards me and I look at something else. I can always sense when her head is going to turn. Isn’t that funny? But, like I was saying, I hate her. She has such a goddamn hold on me, John. Really. I want to fuck her so hard and I want to love her for the rest of my life. I can’t believe I’m telling you this. Don’t tell Denise. That’s funny. I will tell you what is funny and what is not.

Ok, scratch that, start again, Jimmy thought. He was trying to tell his best friend that he was in love with his sister. Not his sister as in incest, but his sister as in John’s sister. It was hard as hell to say it. He started again.

You know this, I’m sure. The girl is practically begging to have it.

Jesus, he thought. What am I trying to do here? Ok, start again.

Fuck.

He quickly drew a few lines through fuck and decided to call John instead. Ask him over for a beer, he thought, and tell him after the fifth.

I gotta just lay it out. Just tell him the truth. Ok, I can’t do that, but I will tell him most of it. John, I’m in love with your little sister. Yeah, dude. She is hot, I know. The thing is I want to marry her and fuck her. Yeah. Well, not in that order, but. Dude, thank you. You don’t know what this means.

Come in man. John was here.

He entered the musty apartment with apprehension. Jimmy had been acting unlike himself recently and he had his suspicions. His suspicions were right, but he didn’t know that yet. He, of course, did not want to be right.

Hey John. Jimmy was shaking inside. Everything about this felt wrong. Asking him over, the letter, liking his sister, the other night. I got some Bud, as usual, he said. Would you like a Big Bud?

I would admire that Big Bud, thank you so kindly, said John. He took a seat in the corner, picked up the Bass Fishing magazine, as usual. And an hour went by, without any new conversation, and without a little beer.

After the fifth: Hey John, what’s that sister of yours up to tonight?

John: Why do you ask?

Not any reason at all.

Where’s Denise at, Jimmy?

Who gives a fuck, do you want another? He held up the brown bottle. John did not want another. Jimmy brought out two bottles and handed one to John.

After taking the bottle and placing it next to him on the cluttered end table, John asked the question he had wanted to ask the entire evening. The question he dreaded to ask. Why did you ask me over here, Jim? Why all the forced beer, the beating around the bush. Just say the stupid thing.

It’s not so stupid after all, John. Really. I mean not really. It isn’t. I love her man.

Cut the shit, Jimmy. Seriously, please cut that out right now. Give me that beer. Just stop drinking and tell me what’s on your mind.

John already knew what he was going to say. He just needed to hear it from Jimmy.

I want to see her, can I see her, John? Can I see her tonight? Call her.

Jimmy, fuck. Don’t.

No, I need to see her. Just call her up. Say hey baby. No hand me the phone. Dial her number, I know it if you need it, and then hand it to me.

Jimmy this is my little sister. We watched her grow up.

I know, but you got to call her and let me talk, ok? This is why I called you over. Be my best bud and call her on my phone. Here. He got up and handed John his cellular phone. Just hold down the 2, ok? I got her on speed dial.

John pushed back Jimmy’s hand and got up. He looked Jimmy in the eyes.

See, John said, I already talked to her today. She called me out of the blue, in fact. Said you already called her. Last night. Now I had to ask myself, why would my best friend, who I have known since the fucking 1^st grade, call my baby sister? Did he need help getting on the internet? Did he need directions to the fucking mall? No, Jimmy, I don’t think I’ll be holding down that number 2 for you. I’d just as soon break your motherfucking phone than call her for you.

Jimmy got a chance to talk. John, John, it’s not even like that. See, I called her by mistake. I tried pressing three to call the movies. Look, I called the movies to find out the times and I hear your sister. Well, I didn’t even know it was her. Where are you going, John? Just hold on a second. Let me explain something.

John heard Jimmy inside say his name two times. He filled his lungs with the suburban scene and waited for Jimmy to come outside. Jimmy was drunk and John had no plans to stay. But his keys were inside next to the bass magazine.

Jimmy stumbled meekly out the door and stood on the porch. He stared at John’s back, where he stood at the end of the twisting paved path. He could feel his friend’s hostility.

I know you’re upset with me, John. I would be too, I guess. But what am I supposed to do? Are you able to shut stuff like this off? Can you just ignore what plays over and over inside you? How do you shut shit off? She’s like a fucking broken record, playing the sweetest melody inside my chest.

I don’t want to hear about this, Jim. He now turned his back and faced the porch. Why did you call my sister? She wouldn’t tell me, but if it’s why I think you called her I will never talk to you again. No more Big Buds or fishing Saturdays for us, pal. Fucking midnight phone calls to my little sister? Jesus, Jim. This isn’t right. Can’t you see this is all wrong?

John, I feel what you’re saying. But I feel her too. I feel Denise and I feel my best friend’s sister all at once and I don’t know what to do.

¶ 7:54 PM