My Stepbrother, the Artist

by Sybil Ling

  For instance, there’s a dusty old billiards room that she remembers bringing her friends into when she was in elementary school, the three of them trying to figure out how to play this grown-up game for adults. Another room contains large chests of drawers, maybe twenty of them, each covered in a white cloth to protect them from dust and time, and each containing strange collections of silverware, foreign coins, or otherwise expensive but useless items.

  Diana finds herself shaking her head at the rediscoveries of this strange old life that she used to live. None of this seemed odd or weird to her at the time, but now it all seems so out of place. It’s not a huge wonder that she went from living in this enormous house to wanting to live in one of the biggest cities in the world; or that she went from being surrounded by servants and expensive things to being surrounded by fans and the latest in fashion.

  As Diana wanders around the house, she finds herself going outside and into the front and backyards as well. Zach’s studio stands alone and off to the side, like a forbidden fortress, and though Diana sees him inside the house every now and again, getting food or otherwise just wandering around, he seems not at all interested in speaking to her, or even acknowledging that she’s alive.

  There have been more than a few times where Diana has found herself walking towards the studio, ready to knock on the front door, to demand to sit down with Zach and have a conversation, clear the air between them and get back the stepbrother she’d spent so many years living with before they ruined their relationship together and went on their own ways, into their own lives.

  But each time Diana has stopped herself, pulling back and going in another direction instead. Because in all honesty, she’s not sure what she would say to Zach if they were to actually sit down and talk about what happened. What would she tell him? Should she tell him things he already knows, like that when their parents got married, when she was 13 and he was 18, she looked up to him like the older brother she’d never had, even though he was “too old to play with snot-nosed kids”?

  Or perhaps she should tell him something he doesn’t know, like, as they grew up and started spending more time together, she felt a connection developing between them? And as she started to grow into womanhood she found herself feeling something else for him — something beyond just brotherly love? And that those feelings were confusing, to say the least, but that she couldn’t deny that they existed? And that, as she spent sleepless nights yearning for a man to come into her life, to sweep her away, the man she was actually yearning for was him?

  No, she couldn’t tell him that. Their last year together was a difficult and confusing one, to say the least. Diana, already appearing in modelling magazines and the envy of every girl she had grown up with, had more boys lusting after her than she could count. But despite all that, and despite the fact that Zach was already creating pieces of art that were selling for a quarter of a million dollars apiece, they still both lived in their parents’ house, and they were still as close as ever.

  Neither of them wanted to leave, you see. Neither of them wanted to be the one to desert the other, especially after five years as stepbrother and stepsister, five years where they got to know one another and became closer than the closest of their friends.

  And then, there was that one night when Diana and Zach’s parents were out on a date. Zach broke into the liquor cabinet and the two of them snuck off to the studio that Zach had put up so he could work on his larger-than-life pieces. They drank whiskey and tequila straight from the bottle and got very drunk very quickly. It started to rain, light patters on the windows at first, and then more torrential downpours.

  “We should go in,” Diana said, her voice slurring. She walked towards the window as Zach followed behind, both of them staring out of it as the rain beat down upon the glass. Lighting flashed at that moment, illuminating their large house, and the deafening crack of thunder came down upon them, sounding like mountains exploding.

  Diana shrieked and spun around, away from the window, and directly into Zach. Up until then they’d been sitting on the large Persian rug on the floor, drinking, talking, getting drunk. They’d kept their space from one another, even though there were times, unmistakable times, during the lulls in their conversation where the constant sound of rain on the roof brought their eyes to lock together, their closeness to one another as stepbrother and stepsister drawing them invisibly together.

  But now, now they were touching for the first time. Diana’s hands had lifted up at the last second and she hit into his hard chest, feeling him, smelling him, becoming wrapped in the warmth that radiated off of his body. He didn’t move, but instead just stood there looking down at his stepsister. Diana’s hands remained on his chest, the two of them breathing deeply. She was staring at the space at the top of his shirt, where she could just see the small tuft of his chest hair poking out, and then she lifted her gaze up, up, into his eyes, just above hers.

  Diana opened her mouth, wanting to say that she was sorry, but something was stuck in her throat. She could feel Zach’s heartbeat drumming against her fingers, and when one of his hands found the small of her back and her breath caught in her throat, she felt his heartbeat quicken inside of his chest, his breathing coming in just a little more shallow.

  “Zach,” Diana heard herself saying, but her voice sounded different. The sound of the rain was unceasing and filled every space in the studio, every ounce of air that surrounded them. Zach was looking down at her, into her eyes, and Diana felt her fingertips start to tingle, a strange dropping sensation deep in the pit of her stomach.

  “Diana,” he said, and his own voice, too, sounded different: deeper, and huskier, if that was at all possible. But he was her stepbrother, she didn’t think of him that way, and she certainly wouldn’t know if his voice was sounding huskier than usual, or if the hand on her back was squeezing ever so lightly, pulling at the back of the halter top she was wearing, or if she could feel herself lifting up onto her toes, of if she could see him coming down closer, closer towards her, her eyes closing just at the last second before their lips met in their first ever kiss …

  Diana shakes her head only to find herself standing in front of the door to Zach’s studio, her hand already clenched into a fist, ready to knock.

  She takes a deep, shuddering breath and steps backwards, hearing the crunch of gravel under her shoes. The sun beats down mercilessly onto Diana’s head and she forces herself to turn away from the studio, walking back to the house. She doesn’t look behind her, because if she did she might see Zach standing at the window, watching her go, and wishing beyond wish that she would come back, would knock on that door and invite him out to talk. No, if she turned her head she might see that very sight, and the sight of that might force her to have to deal with these feelings, whatever these feelings are, even though she promised herself that she wouldn’t deal with them again because they weren’t anything, they won’t lead anywhere, and to brood over them would only prove to show that she is weak and that Zach is strong.

  Chapter 5

  One day, a week after arriving back home, Diana is lounging on one of the chairs by the edge of the backyard pool. She’s wearing a red bikini and her large sunglasses, sunning herself, hoping to relax a little and maybe get a tan while she’s still back home.

  Diana has been talking to Doctor Thames every day to find out the progress of her parents. Doctor Thames said they’re getting closer to figuring out what the cause of this strange behaviour is, and in the meantime she’s pleased to say that they’ve been able to curb most of the effects that Diana and Zach’s parents have been experiencing. Indeed, when Diana went over to her mother’s side, she saw her eyes move slightly in her direction, and (Diana is sure) the ghost of a smile appear on her lips.

  Doctor Thames made no mention of Zach coming to visit, even though Diana didn’t ask her directly. But certainly Diana hasn’t seen Zach anywhere near the living room since the day they both arrived. Most of his time has been spen
t cooped up in his studio, hardly even coming out for food now, instead getting one of the servants to deliver trays of food to him three times a day (as Diana has noticed out of a second-story window).

  The sound of flip-flops on the stone patio makes Diana’s ears perk, and she turns in her chair to see, lo and behold, Zach walking towards her. Diana stares at her stepbrother, clad in only a blue pair of swimming trunks and carrying a towel over his shoulder, his eyes likewise hidden behind his own pair of sunglasses.

  He approaches the lounge chair next to hers and drops his towel down onto it, taking off his sunglasses and folding them up, placing them onto the towel.

  “Hiya, sis,” Zach says. “Working hard, or hardly working?”

  “Hi Zach,” Diana responds. “I thought you’d died inside of your studio, you’ve been in there so long.”

  “Nope, just trying to get some work done. Unlike you, it seems.”

  Diana purses her lips. Indeed, her manager Dean has tried calling her every day since she’s arrived back at home, wondering how she’s doing and, more importantly, wondering when she’s going to be back in New York for these photo shoots that magazines have booked. Diana hasn’t returned his calls.

  Perhaps it’s the fact that she’s back home and needs to be there in case anything happens to her parents, or perhaps it’s the fact that she’s out of New York and is finding herself having second thoughts about modelling in general. Some other agents have even tried coming to her house in person, only to be told to leave by the servants. But even if they got through, Diana isn’t sure she would want to do any modelling with them, or really with anyone right now.

  In any case, no, she has not been working.

  “What are you doing in there, anyway?” Diana asks. “I haven’t seen you for three days. I even asked Doctor Thames and she said that you haven’t even been by to see mom or Hank or anything.”

  “I’ve been seeing them,” Zach tells her. “I go at night, when your precious Doctor Thames is asleep. I want some alone time with my old man, unencumbered by doctors and nurses hovering around, wondering if he’s going to wake up while I talk to him. And to answer your first question, I’m doing plenty of stuff.”

  “Can I see some of it?” Diana asks.

  A flash of irritation appears on Zach’s face before it turns back to normal again.

  “Sometimes ‘doing stuff’ doesn’t mean making something tangible,” he says, the bitterness not entirely hidden from his voice. “Brainstorming, finding inspiration — these are all forms of work. It’s something you probably wouldn’t understand from just standing in front of a camera all day.”

  “Well, if you’ve been so busy working, what are you doing now then?”

  “The same thing you’ve been doing this entire week,” Zach says. “Taking a break.”

  And without another word, he walks to the edge of the pool and makes a spectacular dive in, creating hardly a splash as his body is enveloped by the bright blue water.

  Diana watches as his wavy figure swims under the water to the far end of the pool, kicks off of the wall, and makes it all the way to this end again before coming up for air. As he surfaces Zach shakes the water out of his hair, blinking up at Diana.

  “Are you just going to sit there and watch me swim?” Zach asks.

  Diana gives herself a shake, unaware of how obvious it was that she’d been staring at him. She turns her head to the side, staring at the garden in the distance, and hears Zach go underwater again. Diana tries to keep her head where it is, but she can’t help but turn it just enough to watch Zach as he swims laps in the pool, coming up for air every now and again.

  When he finally finishes swimming he makes his way to the side of the pool closest to Diana and puts his hands on the ledge, pushing himself up. Diana, keeping her head where it was when she turned it, watches him out of the corner of her eye. Zach’s arms bulge with muscles as he lifts himself out of the pool. Crystal-clear water runs off of him in rivulets, and Diana can’t help but glance down at the blue swimming trunks he’s wearing, her eyes widening as she sees them cling to his thighs, outlining something large and thick that’s hanging in between …

  She takes in a breath, unaware that she’d been holding it, and looks the other way, her head still not moving. She listens as Zach pads his way towards her, picks up his towel, starts drying himself off. He stands close to her — Diana can see his shadow on the patio stones — and she turns her head to face him again. He’s looking down at her, his muscular body still damp, his swimming trunks not clinging quite as much as they were before.

  “What?” Diana asks, frowning up at Zach. But Zach doesn’t answer at first. Instead he keeps looking down at her, as though he’s only just seeing her for the first time.

  “We should hang out,” he finally says, and Diana isn’t sure that she’s heard her stepbrother correctly.

  “What?” she says again.

  “We should hang out,” Zach repeats, as though he’s been making conversation of this sort all week and not berating her for being herself. “You know, like old times. Maybe order a pizza, watch a movie. Something like that.”

  “Are you serious?” Diana asks. “What happened to working hard and not being lazy, like me?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Zach retorts. “And I can take some time off to spend with my own stepsister, can’t I?”

  Diana looks up at him warily, suspicious of this sudden change in demeanour.

  “Look,” Zach goes on. “I’m going to go finish up something I’ve been working on. Why don’t you come by the studio in a few hours, bring a movie, and we’ll just hang out. I’ll get Eugene to pick up some beers for us. How does that sound?”

  Diana allows herself a little smile: it does sound nice, the chance to hang out with Zach again. Just like old times.

  “Yeah, okay,” she says, and she sees Zach smile, her stomach fluttering as he does. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  “Great,” he says. “Come by around nine, okay? I’ll be done by then.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that.”

  Zach starts to leave but Diana calls back to him.

  “Zach!” He turns around. “What movie do you want me to grab?”

  Zach gives her another smile.

  “Something sexy,” he says, and Diana’s mouth opens. But before she can respond he turns his back to her and keeps walking away, disappearing around the side of the house, leaving Diana on her own to deal with her own, confused thoughts.

  Chapter 6

  Nine o’clock rolls around and Diana walks up to the front door of the studio, wearing a light summer dress and with her hair put up in a loose braid. The sun is just starting to set, casting a golden orange glow over the property. Diana is holding the movie Fatal Attraction clutched in one hand and she lifts the other, knocking three times on the studio door. Her heart is beating hard in her chest, and even though she reminds herself that this is just doing to be an innocent night of hanging out with Zach, her stomach still does a flip as he opens it up, still just wearing his swimming trunks from before.

  “Hey,” he says with a smile before giving Diana a quick look up and down. “Nice dress. Have I ever seen you in it before?”

  Diana shakes her head. “No, I got it in New York.”

  Zach nods, still smiling. “You look good in it.”

  He steps back from the door and Diana walks in.

  “Decided not to change?” she asks him.

  Zach only shrugs. “Eh, it’s summer. I figured I was comfortable enough.”

  As Diana looks around she sees Zach’s paintings and installations covering the walls, the floor, practically any space they can. The only places that seem unencumbered by works of art are the lounge area and Zach’s king-sized bed. Even the kitchen is cluttered with cans of paint. Zach shuts the door behind her.

  Against one wall are several large canvasses with open buckets of paint standing close by, large smears and what look like hand prints covering their surfac
es.

  “Are those your latest works?” Diana asks as Zach steps up beside her, similarly looking around.

  “Yeah, just some things I was testing out.”

  “Where’s the piece you said you just finished?”

  “Ah, that one’s … not done quite yet,” he says with a smile. “What movie did you bring?”

  Diana holds up the DVD and Zach takes it from her hand, furrowing his brow.

  “Fatal Attraction? Doesn’t Glenn Close, like, try to kill the guy in this one?”

  Diana shrugs, feeling the blood running into her cheeks and hating herself for it.

  “It’s the only sexy one I could find,” she says apologetically. “All the rest were, like, Disney movies.”

  “Well, it’ll have to do, I guess,” Zach says. “Eugene said the pizza and beer will be here in, like, five minutes.”

  “Cool,” Diana says, and she steps further into the studio as Zach takes the DVD out of its case and walks over to the lounge area where a black leather couch sits behind a glass-topped table and facing a large flat-screen TV hung up on the wall, entertainment shelf positioned below it. Zach presses a button on the side of the screen and the TV starts up.

  “You’ve really taken over this studio, huh?” Diana asks.

  “No space is large enough for an artist to really work in,” Zach says, his back to her as he turns on the DVD player.

  “I guess so,” Diana responds.

  There’s a silence between them as Zach fiddles with the DVD player. Diana keeps looking around, taking in the myriad works of art.

  “Zach,” she says, and Zach turns around as the tray is sliding back into the machine.

  “Yeah?”

  He’s looking at her and Diana feels her heartbeat quicken again, looking at her stepbrother’s bare chest and stomach, at his messy and air-dried hair, but most importantly at those eyes, the eyes that seem to be for her, and only for her.