It was four or five in the morning, but still very hot. The hair on my arm was matted with sweat, but I wiped my forehead on it all the same. 

I lit another cigarette as an excuse to stay outside. I didn't even want it; my throat already stank with the aftertaste of an entire pack. But even as the pitch sky was broken by a thin line of baby blue to the east, I had to sit there a few minutes more. Inside was a madhouse, hot and stifling. And I had to try to remember, before I went back in. 

For the life of me, I couldn't remember what they said. Their words, their exact words, any of them, and now they seemed so important. Or the times together: I remembered some, but not twenty-six years' worth. We got along fine. There should have been more, but I couldn't recall. 

I had just spoken to her a few weeks before, and there I sat on the stoop, trying to figure out what she had said. Or her laugh. How can you forget someone's goddamned laugh? His was easy, it was so distinctive. But I had spent half-an-hour on the phone with her-- I even recalled making a sandwich after I hung up the receiver-- but now couldn't remember the sound of her laughter. 

I was glad it was closed-caskets, because I didn't want to remember them dead. Though perhaps a few death recollections might be better than emptiness. 

It would've killed Mom and Dad if they had been around to see it, to outlive their two eldest. "The family achievers" is what Dad called them whenever I was around, and made sure I'd heard, too. "The family of Cheevers," Joy and I would tease, like the brats we were. 

God, if anything were to happen to Joy ... We were always closer because we were so much younger than the others. I never bought any of that bullshit about twins and bonding. It's because because we were younger that we were more protective of each other, more trusting and able to share confidences. Now suddenly, we were all we had left. 

Tossing my cigarette, I went inside and locked the door. The air within was thick and stuffy. 

Joy was taking it pretty badly. When I'd met her at the airport, she seemed numb and distant, like she would burst at any moment. 

She finally did at the service. She was hysterical, and refused to let go of me. At my apartment, she was sick all day. She threw up a couple of times, then lay down and never got up. I checked on her a lot, but otherwise felt helpless, she looked so broken. 

She lay in the dim blue light, motionless but for the occasional wave of her hair in the current of the fan. I silently walked to the nightstand for the empty glass, then filled it with cold water. I needed some sleep, but first a shower, to wash the sweat and grime from my body, and the confusion from my mind. 

I stood in cool water, letting it wash over me, wash away this day and carry it down the drain. Afterward, I toweled quickly, suddenly anxious to sleep away this emptiness that scared me so. I pulled on a pair of boxers, and once again filled the water glass next to Joy. Her brow was tense, her lips tightly drawn. 

I lay along the far edge of the bed. In the stillness, as I feared, my emotions rushed to the fore. The panic built until I rolled over and wrapped my arm around her, squeezing my eyes shut, desperately swallowing my saliva. Her nightgown was wet with sweat.

A lawn mower hums somewhere outside. Hot daylight streams into the bedroom. We lie against one another, her face beside mine, deep breaths on my shoulder. We are hugging, limbs entwined, toes touching. My hands brush bare skin. Squinting through her hair, I see her nude back in my arms. 

I don't know if I jumped, but she's rustling in her sleep. Her head rises and burrows into my shoulder, her knee bends forward, hips pushing against mine. I feel the pressure of her pubic bone, and the brush of hair against my cock, naked and erect, pressed between us. I close my eyes and try to think. 

Copyright © 2002 PleaseCain. All Rights Reserved. May not be re-printed in any form without express written consent of the author. Do not copy or post. A version of this story first appeared at alt.sex.stories.