I lay half-awake in bed, with no desire to wake up further, but knowing that as soon as my sister Ashley finished her shower, I would need to rush in before my brother Nigel if I wanted any hot water. I think he often fell asleep in the shower and didn’t move until the water got icy.
Climbing out of bed and donning my robe, I sat on the edge of the bed waiting to spring into action when my sister left the bathroom.
I heard the door open and bolted for the shower, beating Nigel by only a step or two. I slammed the door in his face as he yelled, “One of these days, Garreth, I’ll beat you!”
I laughed aloud, removed my robe, and got into the warm shower. I loved the feeling of the water running over me. I also loved the feeling of running my soapy hands over my genitals, savoring the sensations in my morning boner.
I was 12 years old. Although I was sometimes afraid that it was wrong to do it, I knew that playing with myself was irresistible. It felt good, and I did it as often as possible.
As the youngest of three, I often felt the burden of having older siblings. Ashley was an ancient 16. She was emerging from adolescence with all that entailed for a girl ─ breasts, bleeding, and mood swings. There were times when she was quite nice to me, but there were an equal number of times when she was impatient and intolerant of her little brother.
Nigel was 14 and growing rapidly. He was much stronger than me. When we were little, we used to play together, especially our versions of baseball and soccer. But Nigel had decided that playing with a 12-year-old was beneath him. The fact that he was dealing with spots on his face made him surly.
So it was that I had to defend myself and make my own way in the family.
16, 14, and 12. Each one of us was two years apart from a sibling, just as our parents had planned it. And we were all born in May, another parental plan.
Our parents were hard-working and loving. I’m sure they did their best with us, but they were often away from home, and we were left on our own.
In addition to our home in Boston, we had a home on Cape Cod. Our parents called it our summer cottage, but it was much more than a cottage.
As I finished my shower, I heard Nigel banging on the bathroom door and shouting, “Hurry up or I’ll miss the bus.”
When I opened the door in the midst of his pounding, he nearly hit me in the nose. “You knocked?” I asked.
“Screw you,” he said and hurried into the bathroom. I thought that expression was funny, but I had no idea what it meant.
Somehow, we all managed to dress, eat a hasty breakfast, and be out on the corner awaiting the school bus. It wasn’t until I began middle school that we all rode on the same bus.
When we were all seated, I asked Nigel, “What does ‘screw you’ mean?”
He looked at me oddly and said, “Well, I didn’t mean it literally, and I have no intention of doing it to you.”
“Good, I guess, but what does it mean?”
“Literally?”
I nodded.
“It means to stick my cock up your ass, but like I said, I’d never do that.”
“I’m glad,” I said, feeling a tight little jerk in my rectum.
It was a lovely spring day, and I don’t believe anybody in the school really wanted to be there. That seemed to be as true of the teachers as it was of us students.
I knew that as soon as school got out for the summer, we would be living in our cottage on the Cape and enjoying the beach and sailing.
We all endured school through May and into June. On the last day, we turned in our books, got our final grades, and were ecstatically free for the summer.
The next day, our family piled into the car and drove to Cape Cod.
The cottage, which Dad had named Beachside, was big enough so that the three of us children had separate rooms, and we quickly settled into our summer routines.
Of course there were rules: No swimming alone. No going on the beach without being slathered with sunscreen. No leaving the cottage without telling the parents where we were going.
Although Nigel and Ashley clearly considered themselves superior to me, they did deign to go to the beach with me. We all knew how to swim. Nigel and Ashley had both taken Junior Lifesaving classes, and I would soon.
There was a new family in the cottage next to us with a boy about my own age. We met on the beach that afternoon, and we immediately hit it off.
I introduced myself. His name was Rupert, and we both giggled over our unusual names. We agreed that we had never heard of anyone else with either of our names.
The beach was on Long Island Sound, so the waves were usually small and not at all threatening. That was good for safety but made them useless for surfing.
There were several small planes which often flew along the coast giving sightseers an aerial view of the Cape. A couple of them were biplanes. I thought it would be pretty cool to ride in one, but I knew the rides were quite expensive.
Mother and Father, however, decided that to celebrate their twentieth anniversary they would fly in one, so Father bought a ride for the two of them. Two plus the pilot was the maximum number the plane could hold.
The day of the flight was bright and clear, with very little breeze. Our parents made us promise to watch from our beach and wave as they flew by.
Digging in the sandy beach was almost irresistible, and on that day, Rupert and I were designing a sandcastle with a moat, a drawbridge, and numerous turrets. But I kept one eye on the sky, hoping to see the yellow biplane overhead. Whenever I heard a plane engine I looked up, but it wasn’t until three other planes had passed that I spotted the yellow biplane.
It was over the water and flying steadily from east to west. We all waved wildly as the plane passed us. Then I realized that something was wrong.
The plane seemed to be straining to gain altitude, and there was smoke pouring out of it. Flames flickered around the engine and spread to the rest of the plane. There was a flash of light and a few seconds later we heard a loud boom as the plane disintegrated, pieces falling into the water.
I heard people screaming, but I was so stunned I didn’t make a sound.
Nigel had some wild idea of swimming out to where the plane had disappeared and rescuing everyone, but fortunately Ashley dissuaded him; she and I and Rupert held him by his arms.
Soon there were small boats out near the spot where the plane had disappeared. I knew there was one from the fire department, and in time, a coastguard boat arrived. I could see divers go into the water and two emerged with someone. I couldn’t tell whether the person was alive or dead.
We sat silently on our front porch, Rupert beside me on the steps, as we surveyed the scene. None of us felt like talking.
In the afternoon, Rupert headed for his cottage. Soon after, we heard a car pull up behind the cottage. The car door slammed shut, and a policeman appeared around the corner. He walked up onto the porch and took a seat.
“Are you the Kingmans’ children?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Ashley, quietly.
“The only ones?”
“Yes, sir.”
The man asked, “Did any of you see the accident?”
“We all did,” Ashley replied.
“Oh shoot. I’m really sorry about your parents,” he said.
None of us answered. After all, what could we say to that?
“We need to get in touch with your relatives,” he went on.
The three of us looked at each other. I realized I knew nothing about any relatives ─ aunts, uncles, grandparents, nieces, nephews, or cousins. As far as I knew we had none.
But Ashley spoke up. “The only relative I know of is our grandfather, Adrian Kingman.”
I was surprised, and apparently Nigel was as well.
“I don’t know much about him,” she went on. “I only met him once, and I was pretty little.”
The policeman made some notes in a little notebook.
“So there are no other adults here with you?”
We shook our heads.
“Okay. Someone will have to come out and care for you, maybe get you into foster homes,” he said.
“We can take care of ourselves,” Nigel said, angrily.
“Perhaps, but there are laws about minors being left alone,” the policeman observed.
“I’ll leave you all for a while but plan on someone coming later.” With that, he left the porch, and a few moments later we heard the car pull out.
“Well, that sucks,” said Nigel.
We continued to sit on the porch, none of us hungry. Rupert and his mother came by. She was carrying a casserole. Ashley thanked her and took it into the kitchen.
Rupert asked if I wanted to walk with him, and although I didn’t really, I went along. As we strolled on the beach, he said, “Garreth, I’m so sorry about your parents.”
What could I say? After a little I thanked him.
“What’s going to happen with you?”
“No idea,” I said. “I guess my grandfather will take us, but I’ve never met him.”
“Oh dear. Look, you have a phone, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, I want to keep in touch. Will you phone me or message me when you learn what’s happening?”
“Sure,” I said, and we traded numbers.
With that he hugged me and went home.
I must say, I really liked that hug. It was comforting, and he smelled nice. I felt a little twinge in my groin, but we parted before anything more happened.
Later, we heard another car pull up. A woman emerged around the corner, walked up the steps, and said, “I’m Mrs. Marvin. Your grandfather has been called, and he’ll be here in the next day or two. Meanwhile, I’ll stay here.”
“You don’t need to,” said Nigel grumpily.
“I’m sure you can take care of yourselves, but as you probably know, there’s a law that says you can’t be left alone unless one of you is at least 18.”
Nigel shrugged and said, “Suit yourself.”
Throughout the afternoon, other people from the cottages brought food, mostly casseroles, but also a pie and a couple of cakes.
Around 7:00 in the evening, Ashley and Mrs. Marvin went into the kitchen and warmed up the casserole from Rupert and his mother. We ate without talking and Mrs. Marvin wisely stayed silent. At the end of the meal, Ashley showed Mrs. Marvin how the couch in the living room opened up to a double bed. Wisely, Mrs. Marvin made no mention of sleeping in our parents’ bed.
It was still early but I went up to my room. I was exhausted. Somehow, I didn’t feel it would be right for me to play with myself, so I just lay in bed cuddling my stuffed bear Barnaby until I dropped off to sleep.
Copyright © 2025 Alan Dwight
Posted 23 April 2025