Cutler 01 - Dawn

forward to that," I added. He stepped back, still holding that sexy smile, but for me it was as if we were gazing at each other over a great valley, the distance between us widening and widening until the Philip I had known dwindled into a memory and burst like a soap bubble. He was gone. Then the gap dwindled, and he was replaced by this new Philip, my older brother.
    Good-bye to my first and what I thought would be my most wonderful romantic love, I thought. Goodbye to being swept off my feet and floating alongside warm, soft white clouds. Our passionate kisses shattered and fell with the raindrops, and no one could tell which were my tears and which were the drops of rain.
    Four elderly men came in and took up seats at a corner table. They were there for their daily game of gin rummy. Philip and I watched them for a moment and then turned back to each other.
    "Well, I'd better get to my unpacking. I haven't even seen Mother yet. I can just imagine how this has all left her—headaches, nervous breakdowns." He shook his head. Then he laughed. "I wish I was here when she first set eyes on you. That must have been something. You can tell me all about it later, when we're alone," he said, his eyebrows rising.
    "I'll start working with dinner tonight. Everybody's a slave driver around here. I'll come looking for you as soon as I get free," he said as he backed away, "and we'll go for a walk or something. Okay?"
    "Okay."
    He turned and hurried off. I stared after him a moment and then returned to my work.
    Afterward I returned to my room as usual to rest. The rain had settled into a steady drizzle, and my room was dingy and dark, even though I had the lamp on. I waited for Philip and listened keenly for footsteps in the corridor. Soon I heard some and looked up expectantly when the door was opened. It was Clara Sue. For a moment we just glared at each other. Then she brought her hands to her hips and smirked, shaking her head.
    "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it," she said.
    "Hello, Clara Sue." Accepting her as my sister was a hard pill to swallow, but what choice did I have?
    "You don't know how embarrassing all this was for me and Philip at school!" she exclaimed, widening her eyes.
    "I've already spoken to Philip. I know about the gossip he had to endure, but—"
    "Gossip?" She laughed, hard and mirthless; then her face turned hard, determined. "That was only part of it. He sat in a corner by himself and refused to have anything to do with anybody. But I wasn't going to let this spoil my fun," she said, coming a little farther into the room. She looked at the bland walls and the window without any curtains to warm them. "This used to be Bertha's room, my black nanny. Only it was a lot nicer then."
    "I haven't had a chance to decorate," I said dryly. She stepped back quickly when she saw some of her hand-me-downs on my bed.
    "Hey, isn't that one of my blouses and one of my skirts?"
    "Mrs. Boston brought it to me after she cleaned up your room."
    "What kind of people did you live with? Ugh. Stealing babies. No wonder you looked so . . . unwashed and Jimmy was so goofy."
    "Jimmy wasn't goofy," I snapped. "And I never looked unwashed. I admit we were poor, but we were not dirty. I said I didn't have much clothing, but what I did have, I cleaned and washed regularly." She shrugged as if I couldn't say anything that would dispute her statements.
    "Jimmy was weird," she insisted. "Everyone said so."
    "He was shy and gentle and loving. He wasn't weird. He was just afraid, that's all. Afraid of not being accepted by a school full of snobs." I couldn't stand talking about Jimmy this way, acting as if he were dead. That made me more angry than the things she was saying.
    "Why are you defending him so strongly? He wasn't really your brother," she retorted. Then she embraced herself and shook her head. "It must have been horrible and disgusting, like being forced to live with strangers."
    "No, it wasn't. Momma and Daddy were always—"
    "They weren't your momma and daddy," she snapped. "Don't call them that. Call them what they were—kidnappers, baby snatchers!"
    I looked away, the tears stinging behind my eyes. I wouldn't let her see me cry, but what could I say? She was right, and she enjoyed driving the nails of ridicule into me.
    "The worst thing of all was you and Philip," she said grimacing and twisting her mouth as if she had gulped castor oil. "No wonder he sat alone, sulking. He felt so dirty and stupid