-eng- Sleeping Cousin -rj353254- -

I found her on the wide screened-in porch. The lake beyond was black glass, and the only sound was the rhythmic, quiet scrape of a branch against the screen. Lena lay on the long wicker chaise, one arm thrown over her head, the other resting across her stomach. She was wearing a thin white tank top and shorts. Her mouth was slightly open. Asleep.

Her fingers were warm. Light as a fallen petal. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t open her eyes. In that half-dream state, perhaps she thought the chaise was wider, or that the warmth beside her was just the memory of a body.

My cousin, Lena, was two years older, three inches taller, and infinitely more dangerous than me. She spoke in fragments of French she’d picked up from old movies, wore a silver ring on her thumb, and could hold a cigarette in a way that made the act of burning tobacco look like philosophy. Our families had rented the same lake house for a week, a truce disguised as a vacation, and on the third night, the power went out.

I found her on the wide screened-in porch. The lake beyond was black glass, and the only sound was the rhythmic, quiet scrape of a branch against the screen. Lena lay on the long wicker chaise, one arm thrown over her head, the other resting across her stomach. She was wearing a thin white tank top and shorts. Her mouth was slightly open. Asleep.

Her fingers were warm. Light as a fallen petal. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t open her eyes. In that half-dream state, perhaps she thought the chaise was wider, or that the warmth beside her was just the memory of a body.

My cousin, Lena, was two years older, three inches taller, and infinitely more dangerous than me. She spoke in fragments of French she’d picked up from old movies, wore a silver ring on her thumb, and could hold a cigarette in a way that made the act of burning tobacco look like philosophy. Our families had rented the same lake house for a week, a truce disguised as a vacation, and on the third night, the power went out.