My Brother's Forbidden Touch::Ch-7

She was right. I knew she could take care of herself, but I never let her.

"Dan, I could live anywhere I want. I could move to Europe, or Africa, or anywhere in the world, and be fine. I don't need anybody to take care of me."

"I don't know if your disability payment would..."

"Shut up, Dan," Raven laughed to stop me.

"What? I think you have to live in the US..."

"I don't get a disability check."

"You don't? Why not? You're, well, I think you deserve one."

"I don't like talking about money, but will you let it drop if I just say being blind doesn't mean I can't take care of myself?"

I thought I knew all about Raven's life, and how she spent it.

I thought I knew from observations when I was home with her and the conversations we had.

Her life seemed to be about what one could expect from a Beverly Hills housewife, except for living in Columbus, Ohio instead of Beverly Hills, and not being a housewife.

A few days each week, she would take Boston with her, get on the bus and go to a coffee shop, the mall, downtown, or a park. It was just to get out of the house, she told me. Sometimes she would go to an afternoon matinee movie that she would regale me with the details of later. They were usually chick flicks, so I was glad she made it known she didn't need company, besides Boston, watching them.

I always wondered if people thought it was weird for a solitary, blind girl to go to a movie and sit there by herself with her dog.

Most of her time she spent reading a Braille book, an actual paper Braille book, or on her Braille machine that was wifi-connected to the internet. With that machine she could type or read, and sometimes she would type furiously for hours at a time, other times she would sit quietly as the fingers on both her hands silently flew back and forth across the readout panel or the pages of a Braille book.

She was pretty amazing to watch while she did that, either typing or reading. She even won a national Braille contest three years in a row when she was in high school.

Apparently, I was missing something. She never talked about working, or having a job, or making and having money.

I was consciously glad she couldn't see my face and the skepticism I was certain it showed.

"Okay," I told her, despite my resolve to find out exactly what she was talking about.

"They're keeping the house, aren't they?"

She really wasn't asking.

"Yeah."

She looked like she was about to laugh, but was shaking her head slowly like she didn't believe that.

I had no idea how she knew. I assumed at first that they were going to sell our house in Columbus when they found one in Arizona.

"Europe is sounding better all the time."

Her face suddenly lit up with a big smile.

"Dan, let's move to Europe!" Raven whispered conspiratorially.

"Raven, we can't. Move to Europe? I don't know anything about accounting there except it's different than here."

"Come on. It'd be fun!" she continued with the same whispering.

"Are you serious?"

"Think about it Dan. What guy wouldn't want to move to Europe with the prettiest girl he knows?"

"Most guys wouldn't admit their sister is the prettiest girl they know."

"Most guys would have a girlfriend they'd claim was the prettiest girl they know even when their sister really is. I guess it's good you don't, cause you'd be in the doghouse with her, but that doesn't change the fact that you think I'm the prettiest girl you know and you don't want to move to Europe with me."

"I didn't say that, Rae. I said I can't get a job there."

My sister's expression changed. She looked serious now, and I was afraid she was going to say unless we were moving to Europe, she wouldn't move with me.

"Honesty, Dan?"

"Okay."

That was how we did an all-kidding-aside, brutally honest conversation.

"Am I really pretty? I mean, do people besides you think I'm pretty?"

"Honest, you're very pretty, Rae."

"What do I look like?"

I wasn't expecting that.

"Honesty?"

"Brutally, if necessary," Raven giggled.

I looked her over slowly before responding.

"You have the perfect name, Raven. The first thing people notice about you is your shiny, long, jet-black hair. Then your almond-shaped, deep blue eyes are more useful than you give them credit for, because they're so expressive and easy to get lost in. You have this cute button nose above pouty lips that just beg to be kissed."

She hadn't really reacted at all until the part about her lips. Her cheeks blushed bright red when I said that.

"I hardly ever pout," Raven whispered.

"You have delicate fingers that move like lightning when you're typing, and your tiny little feet are adorable. Your slender legs are amazing, especially in a mini-skirt like you have on today. Your breasts..."

"Dan!" Raven gasped.

"You said brutally honest, Rae."

"You don't have to tell me they're too little. I know that. Enough people have told me that already."

For everything I'd told her, I had studied each part of her as I described it, and now I watched as her nipples suddenly bulged into the material of her tight sweater.

"They lied, Rae. Your breasts are perfect, even without a bra on, or especially without a bra on."

Raven crossed her arms over her chest to hide her erect nipples, and blushed almost as much as she had when I mentioned her kissable lips.

"Whatever," she growled.

I watched my sister's blush fade slowly as we sat in silence for a minute or two.

She finally let her arms drop, then turned on the sofa to face me directly, one foot on the floor and the other tucked up under her.

I probably could have seen her panties under her short skirt if she hadn't been wearing black tights that blended with her black mini-skirt.

"What do you look like?" she asked me.

"Oh, um..."

"Do you still have bright blond hair, sparkling blue eyes and front teeth that are too big for your mouth?"

"What, um, are you talking about, Rae?" I laughed at her.

"That's how I remember you, but you didn't describe me like I remember me. I mean, I didn't even have boobs last time I saw me, let alone perfect ones, if that's even true. I was too skinny, and too short. I was skinnier and shorter than any of the other girls our age, and I wore very thick, black-frame glasses that made my eyes look like saucers. I definitely was not pretty then."

"Oh. I never even thought about..."