September 9, 2001

I've ended a two-year-long self-imposed exile from my family.

My mother called me and we chatted, and then, I just didn't see any point in being so militant. So I asked for my brother and we chatted about everything and nothing.

I had hoped to have some sense of closure, a denouement, or an epiphany. But no, life doesn't work that way. It is as if our fight never happened.

...

I was in high school, my brother was getting ready to start junior high. For most of our childhood, we hung out together. Perhaps moving from North Carolina made us keenly aware that family was the only commonality. In either case, we were (I thought) best friends.

Then, my parents told me that they didn't want him hanging around me anymore. They explained that he needed to be with kids his own age. Why? Were my nerdy "straight A" friends not good enough? Were they afraid that we'd contaminate his mind with Dungeons and Dragons and video games? Or did they just want to have a little control over his life?

What was worse, I thought, was they wanted ME to ostracize him. They wanted me to be the "big brother." I didn't want to do that, but how can you argue with parents when you aren't even sure of yourself?

After a while, my brother latched on to his own group of friends, but they were all bullies. Bastards and brats who found it more fun to make him do stupid stunts than to do them themselves. I remember one time where one of them stole something from my brother. I think we eventually got it back, but that didn't stop him from hanging out with the same quality of friends.

I often think that if I was a better brother, none of this would have happened.

Ask my parents, however, and they'll say they don't remember asking me to do any such thing.

...

In college, I wrecked myself. I took Calculus 1B, Rhetoric 1A, Chem 1B, and Physics H7A. Needless to say, I put myself on Academic Probation right away.

Meanwhile, I dated someone completely wrong for me, and broke up with her the same semester.

Meanwhile, my brother was getting into all sorts of trouble, and my mother tearfully called me every week to tell me all her worries and anxieties, and begged me to talk to my brother. Set him on the right path.

I couldn't have led a lemming back then.

And so, we'd all fight. My brother against my parents. My parents against me. My parents against each other. I was always trying to stage some middle ground. Offer a little tolerance for both sides, but none for myself.

But my brother and I had never fought. We understood each other.

That is, until two years ago.