Loving Siblings: Aidan & Dionne (28 page)

It was clear for me now. Dionne didn’t want
me. She didn’t love me the way I loved her.

I had turned away from her door with tears
stinging my eyes. I can still feel the pain my body suffered those
moments because it felt as if my whole world had come crashing down
on me. Would I be able to survive this?

I recall how heavy my feet felt as I walked
back down the brick path, convinced my legs would give out from
under me.

And then . . . there was giggling behind
me.

Slowing my pace, I had turned my head just
in time to see a black and white soccer ball bouncing down the yard
before it came to a stop by my shoe. I looked up, barely able to
see through the blur of my tears, and stared at a little boy by the
house.

He had sparkling brown eyes, and he was
grinning at me. That grin looked familiar.

But so did his t-shirt.

He was dressed in a pair of small denims and
a familiar blue and white soccer tee, and I noticed it had my old
team logo, the Arcadia Aces, and my old jersey number, 18, on the
front.

Stunned all of a sudden, I had just stood
there, watching in speechless shock as the boy came running toward
me with bouncing black curls. He stopped in front of me, bent down,
and picked up the ball.

There was no doubt. I knew, with every fiber
of my being, I was looking at Dionne’s son.

“
Ooooh, I tell Mama, Boyd! I tell you
not stay on porch!” cried another child’s voice with a tattling
tone. It was a girl’s voice.

I turned to see a little raven-haired girl
of the same age as the boy, in a soft blue dress with puffy sleeves
. . . and a blue plastic hair band slipped back over those pretty
curls. She looked so much like Dionne when she was around that
age.

I felt the color suck right out of my face.
She had a daughter, too??

“
You, Daddy?” the tyke asked, and I
looked down to see him squinting with pudgy cheeks as he smiled up
at me.

“
I’m Aidan,” I had
answered.

“
My name Aidan, too! I Boyd Aidan!”
the tyke exclaimed with a burst of energy.

I recall staring down at him, feeling my
mouth go cork dry.

He frowned as he looked curiously at my
glasses, or rather, his reflection in my glasses. So I slipped them
back, and this Boyd Aidan giggled.

“
You got DeeDee eyes!”

“
DeeDee?” I frowned with an uncertain
smile.

“
Tattle-tattle DeeDee, my tween!” Boyd
shouted into the direction of the porch.

“
I
not
tattle-tattle—
Ma-maaa! Boyd mean to
me!
” the little girl wailed into the direction of the
front door . . . and that’s when my heart began pounding in my
chest.

“
Boyd!” I hear an all too familiar
voice call. “DeeDee? Where’s your brother—?”

I straighten, and turn to see Dionne, my
Dionne, on the doorstep in the shade as the little boy raced up to
the porch, back to his mother’s side. I had watched as she lifted
her hand to shield her eyes from the sharp, morning sun. And then I
see her freeze. She was as white as a ghost. Without a sound, she
quietly lowered her hand.

“
Mama! He Aidan too!” the boy crowed,
happily. “He got DeeDee eyes! He look like Daddy!”

I see her eyes are swimming . . . swimming
with tears, and all that anger, that frustration, that disillusion
I had suffered throughout those long, dark years, were washed away
by her tears.

“
Aidan?” she had whispered. In the
next instant, she rushed from the porch, from our past, those long
five years, down the green lawn, and straight into my outstretched
arms.

I caught and held her tightly to me. My
Dionne. Mine.

Her “tweens” stand puzzled and silent on the
porch.

“
Oh god, Aidan . . . Oh god,” Dionne
whimpers softly against my shoulder.

She finally pulled back. Golden-brown eyes
were pouring tears. Her fingers trembled as she tenderly touched my
face, as if she couldn’t believe I were there. “I can’t believe
it’s you,” she had whispered through her tears. “I can’t believe
you’ve finally found me.”

Found her? Was she lost then? No. She’d been
waiting for me to find her. Dionne had been waiting all those years
. . . for me. Because unbeknownst to me, that one summer we were
lovers, my seed hit fertile ground, and Dionne had gotten pregnant.
But she didn’t want to bother me with it. She didn’t want to “ruin
my life” with being a father so young.

Silly, silly, Honey-bunny of mine.

“
Are they mine?” I recall asking,
knowing the answer before she spoke, but needing to hear her tell
me in her own words.

“
Don’t be angry, Aidan. Please forgive
me,” she replied, instead. “I made a choice, and I didn’t want my
choice to ruin your future,” she had explained, and feeling
ashamed, she looked down as she moved to step back. But I knew then
and there, I would never let her go. Ever again.

My arms had tightened around her to
emphasize that point.

She had quickly looked up at me, swimming
eyes are filled with hope. Tentative hope.

“
I’m not angry,” I had told her with
all sincerity as I gazed into her eyes. “Surprised? Yes. Angry?
Maybe for a while, but I can never stay angry with you, and I’m not
angry now I’ve finally found you.”

Her big bunny eyes slowly regained that old
sparkle.

“
So . . .” I began, “what about
Hel
mutt
—”

“—
Stop it!” She had burst into
giggles, wiping her tears away. She needed to relieve some
pressure, and I gave her that. I had smiled, feeling myself falling
in love with her all over again. “Why have you never liked Helmut,
Aidan? He’s never been anything but nice—”

“—
Because you chose him over me,” I
finally tell her. “And I hate him because of it.”

She had quieted as I gazed into her shy,
flickering eyes. “I never loved him,” she had finally confessed to
me, saying the words I so longed to hear her say. “I’ve . . . only
ever loved you.”

Her cheeks flush, making my heart soar and
sing. But I still had to know. I still needed to know. “I’m
serious,” I had pressed her. “What about him? Is he still around?”
I recall looking around, already knowing the answer the moment I
saw her son, but I had also been playing a little trick of my own.
I had been trying to buy some time as I devised a way to get Dionne
into the house so we could be together.

She shook her head with an enchantingly shy
smile. “No, Aidan. I haven’t seen Helmut after that evening, when
Mom and Dad took the others to the new Golf Course in El Monte. I
broke up with him that night. I’m sorry I lied to you. But you
wouldn’t listen, and I knew you needed to finish your education and
follow your dreams.”

“
Dionne,” I had told her with all my
heart. “
You
are my dream.
You’ve always been.”

She went silent. We stared into each other’s
eyes, and we bridged five long years full of loneliness in those
few seconds, and we came back together. It was as if we were never
apart.

“
Ach, there you are, Aidan!” Mom
chuckled, stepping outside. “Well, it took you long enough,
hm?”

“
Wouldn’t have hurt to get a clue?” I
recall saying as I arched a brow, but Mom dismisses me with a
callous wave of her pudgy hand.

“
Would have plenty clues if you had
come to the house more.”

I chuckled. She was right. I didn’t come to
the house a lot and when I was there I wanted to leave as quickly
as I could.

“
Anyway, Dad and me thought you were
smart enough to figure out yourself,” she scoffed with a twinkle in
her eye before I bend and kiss her warm, pudgy cheek.

“
You’re forgiven,” I had whispered,
and she smiled. “But no more meddling.”

Mom huffed indignantly.

“
DeeDee. Boyd,” Dionne called her
twins. Our twins. “Say hello to your father,”

They were hers. They were mine. They
were
ours
.

My son. My daughter. Dionne’s
children.
Our
twins.

It was
awesome
.

I held a twin, one in each arm, and rose
with them feeling overwhelmed and incredibly happy. I had kissed
their dark heads while Dionne had smiled brightly, tears shining in
her eyes. Mom puts a loving arm around her, her pudgy face beaming
with happiness, and I had a flashback, seeing an old photograph I
knew all too well, and what I cherished. I used to stare at it for
hours, and I used to keep it under my pillow. Today, I still carry
it in my wallet.

Mom’s always been a smart woman with a keen
eye. She knew we needed to be alone together. So she steps to me,
taking little Deirdre Dionne and Boyd Aidan from me.

“
Well, let Dionne show you the house
while I take your two rascals with me to the park, hm? If I don’t,
they will be restless and jumpy all day,” and without waiting for
permission, Mom stepped off the porch taking the two tykes with
her, but not before I saw her wink at me. “And tonight, we have
dinner at the old house, understand?”

“
Yes,” I recall saying, and
smiled.

Yep. Mom’s had always had a keen eye, all
right. Tonight, she wanted the family to know about Dionne and me.
It was long overdue. And it was permanent.

I patiently let Dionne give me a tour
of her home. As expected, it was meticulously clean! Even with two
rambunctious children, the house was immaculate! She showed me the
airy sitting room, the cozy den, the well-equipped kitchen and
formal dining room. She showed me Boyd’s room, and then DeeDee’s,
and then finally . . . our,
formerly
known as solely her,
bedroom.

All that time, walking in the trail of
her Dove scent and listening to her voice as she calmly pointed out
things—I don’t remember what because I didn’t even hear
half
of what she was saying!—I was
doing my damnedest to act ‘normal’ while walking around with a
throbbing, petrified cock.

Now, in her—scratch
that—
our
bedroom, she turns
to me as she stands by
our
bed.

“
Need help with that?” she had asked
me.

I had gone stiff as a board, and she softly
laughs before she steps to me. Her gentle but unafraid hand finds
the hard outline of my rigid cock still painfully trapped in my
denims. I catch my breath.

“
Oh yeah,” I moaned. “Please,
Sweetheart. I’m dyin’ here.”

I moan and she laughs again, but I can see I
was turning her on because her golden-brown eyes glowed, and I
could see her nipples pucker and harden against the soft material
of her dress.

I had eagerly captured her lips before
tenderly kissing her. It was as if it was our first time. It felt
that way because Dionne was still hesitant no matter she instigated
an incredible love-making that afternoon.

I had kissed every inch of that wonderful
body, and I took my time. Dionne’s pretty face was redder than a
boiled lobster because it had been too long, but her golden
honey-bunny eyes glowed for me the moment my lips and tongue found
her sweet, moist pussy. She writhed against my slow but persistent
finger, invading her, but she loved it. She lifted her legs and
widened them for me, for more.

“
Oh god, Aidan,” I heard her gasp,
gushing my name in between tiny gasps.

Her body was perfect, even after giving
birth to twins—the natural way. Dionne’s body was beautiful, soft,
and warm and her gasps, as she whispered my name, were the most
beautiful sounds I had ever heard. Like music in my ears.

I had made mad, passionate,
rigorous
love to my honey-bunny that
afternoon. We enjoyed each other, sometimes aggressively, sometimes
tenderly, but over and again. It was as if we had all those years
to make up for not being together.

Unfortunately, all good things must always
come to an end, and although I would’ve loved to just drop down on
the bed and snore the rest of the afternoon away with my arms
around her, Dionne tugged on my arm to have a shower.

I had no “oomf” left, but when she said I
could soap her in, I was up and out of the bed in a wink! We rushed
into the master bath and soaped each other in; lingering a bit
longer on each other’s aroused parts. Then we had to shower,
again.

We had finally made it back into our bed, in
the bedroom we would share for another three years. Her scent was
everywhere, and it filled me to overflow. I needed this time to
find the peace that had eluded me for much too long.

But as I hold her naked body in my arms,
wanting nothing more than to talk about us and our future, much to
my surprise, Dionne had promptly fallen asleep! As she slept, I
thought of those lost years, but as I kept thinking about them, I
realized we needed this time apart. Now, as she worked as an RN and
I was fast becoming an experienced and accredited architect, I
understood we needed this time apart only to return together
stronger.

Dionne had my photos, and had raised our
twins using those photos so they’d know who their father was. I
guess she always trusted in the fact I would find her and come back
to her. The house was filled with photographs of me posing for the
championship games, drinking with friends, posing with swimming
goggles back on my head while smiling wryly at the camera, and
holding the last trophy of the last soccer championship game so
many years ago. There was one from my graduation at Rice, the
graduation she never attended, but what Dad made a lot of photos
of. And a video.