Awakening Hearts

Chapter 1: KAREN

"Fuck I hate mornings"

I awoke to the sound of electronic alarm screaming at me. A consistent bleating loud enough to stir one from a restful slumber and irritating enough to keep one awake. I groaned loudly shortly followed by a string of swear words one associates with veteran sailors uprooted from his favourite pub at the end of the night. And yet it kept bleating.

The words of my father echoed in the back of my mind. Get up! Time to address a new day with vigour, with enthusiasm, with decorum. A notion that was drummed into me. Of course he was a blatant morning person. One of his few flaws slowly killed by my mother. Still it did take twenty years for her to kill that side of dad. I kinda miss it.

With one eye open I reached out with practised precision and instinctively pushed the snooze button. The silence embraced me like the quilt I was already wrapped in. I slowly stretched across the bed in congratulated celebration. Warm, comfortable, safe. I earned my masters degree in procrastination and today I was going to milk it for all it's worth.

I tried to wriggle in the sheets, to sink into the mattress, perhaps if l sank deep enough I could hide from the world. I pulled the quilt so tight I became cocooned within its folds. I slowly melted into the fabric becoming more or less at ease. I could feel sleep edging closer, feel my breathing become deeper, my mind less focused. And then my eyes opened as a pressure on my bladder betrayed me.

I swore again with gusto and imagination. A combination of crudity and discretionary descriptions escaped my lips with such zeal I almost patted myself on the back over my vulgarity. Then thought better of it since I was entrapped within the confines of my bed. I decided not to give in. Ignore my bladder. Nothing could make me move. Nothing. As I finished my thought the alarm went off again. I sighed in resignation.

With as much effect as I could muster I uncurled myself from my bonds and slithered the best I could to the edge of the bed. I spilled out upon the floor with as much grace as a domesticated slug. Once free I reached out and unplugged the alarm clock with vengeful malice ending its morning crowing. Take that fucker I mentally cursed sighing out loud with unexpected relish.

The air seemed chill and stale and my feet felt every degree. I shivered in my long sleeve power-puff girls pj's and reached in the bed for my robe. A trick my father had taught me. Place the robe in the folds of the blankets so when you get up and put it on it'll already be nice and warm if not slightly wrinkled. I slipped it on and was instantly rewarded with a barrier of warmth.

"Now where did I put my fucking slippers." I said aloud searching the floor for my most treasured items. I shifted a perfectly round buttock to discover the whereabouts of one, however the other eluded me. In the corner of the room was a pair of old track shoes. Still sitting on the floor I slowly shuffled my ass toward it. Mastered in procrastination remember.

With robe and sneaker and slipper in place I staggered through the door into the silent hallway toward the bathroom. The hallway light wasn't on which lead me to believe that I was the only one up. As I entered the bathroom I barely noticed the steam upon the mirror or the clothes upon the ground. I hiked my robe and dropped my pants and sat upon the toilet and began to pee.

The door swung opened. My sister Janine stood in the open frame with a shocked expression upon her face. She was dressed in a pink robe and mismatched slippers. She self-consciously closed her robe to the neck. Her long brown hair was tied in a bun allowing her neck to be displayed in all its slenderness. She blinked her hazel eyes at me and I barely moved in response. She looked to my right then back to me as I urinated. It was the first time she said nothing and yet still irritated me.

"Occupied." I mumbled.

"I know it is. What the hell are you doing in here?!" Janine glowered.

"Taking a piss. Jesus open your eyes." I shot back.

"You first idiot!" Janine replied as if waiting for something to click.

Now she was annoying. I frowned uncomprehendingly causing small wrinkles to form above my nose and between my eyes. I hated when I did that. I finally noticed the steamed glass. The pile of clothes on the ground. Men's clothes. No a man's Pjs. I blinked taking it all in. Then I looked right, the only place left to look, the curtain was closed around the tub. My eyes went wide and comprehension dawned on me.

The curtain slowly opened. Behind it a pale man lettered with freckles with a full head of red hair sat in a tub of hot water. Very transparent hot water. I recognised him in an instant. Well his face anyway, I'd seen photos of him and my sister scattered over the apartment. This was Neville. Janine's Neville. Vision impaired Neville. The love of her life Neville.

"Oh fuck me! I'm so sorry Neville. Why didn't you say anything." I said not sure what else to say.

"Well I thought you were Janine. It's one of the drawbacks of being blind. When I realised it wasn't her I really didn't want to draw attention to myself while naked in a tub. I'd had preferred to meet you wearing more than my smile." Neville said with a slightly nervous grin.

With the mention of naked I looked into the bath. As modest as he was he tried to cover himself with a face cloth which only covered half of him. What I saw could only be considered a very large very flaccid penis. I looked at my sister wide eyed and mouth agape.

'Oh my god,' I mouthed. She replied with a nod.
I mouthed, 'Fuck me!'
Janine mouth back, 'I know right!'

"Wait, how did you know it wasn't Janine?" I asked curiously getting an eye full.

"She never pees while I'm in the bathroom." Neville said smiling affectionately. It was a genuine smile too. A combination of devotion and love. I felt a pang of jealousy.

"She's always been that way. We shared a bathroom for the first sixteen years of our life and she has never peed in front of me once." I said in a matter of fact way.

"Get out Karen!" Janine ordered stomping one foot.
Mouthing, 'stop looking at his penis!'
'It's like a Coke Can!' I mouthed back. Pretending to hold a can of coke and showing her its girth.

"I'm peeing." I said blandly smiling at my sisters discomfort and realised that I wasn't. I couldn't hold back any longer and continued to pee. Freely unashamed. The trickling of urine seemed to echo loudly in the small bathroom. We all had to endure it silently. That's when I noticed my sisters feet.

"Is that my slipper?" I asked puzzled.

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