I go out to the garage in search of my brother. Mathew is on the computer checking his e-mail. I flop onto his bed and ask him who he�s writing too. He doesn�t answer me.
�Dad�s insane.� I say as I grab Generation X out of his chair and start flipping through it. �Both of them are. They can�t stop telling me about things I�m trying to forget.� Matt�s not responding to me. I look at the back of his head, waiting for an answer.
�I don�t know how you live with them without diving into the bathtub with a toaster.� I say. Mathew stops typing for a second then continues.
I put his book down and roll over onto my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows. �Do you want to come over tonight?� I ask him.
�Sure.� He says almost awkwardly as if he�s not sure of his answer. I can tell he doesn�t want me there with him so I leave. I spend the rest of the day watching television until Dad�s �party� at five.
For dinner, my mom had made Dad�s favorite, a lemon chicken roast, rice pilaf, and Caesar salad. Dad kisses her on the forehead as she serves him and thanks her for such excellent feast. My mother is an amazing cook; rarely does she make things that aren�t delicious. The chicken is the juicy kind that falls apart in your mouth and has the perfect balance of sour lemon tang and the saltiness of other spices. The cheesecake she made was also very tasty but it hadn�t had quite enough time in the fridge to harden so it was slightly sloppy.
My dad opens my present to him first and smiles.
�It�s even better than last years!� he says as he gives me a hug. I think, I�m so pathetic that I must get my dad a tie every year. My mom loves keeping with traditions. Usually my brother will get my dad a mug but when my dad opens my brother�s present, he looks shocked and confused. It�s a small fish bowl. My brother hands him a gold fish in a bag and a little bottle of fish food.
�Thought I�d do something different this year.� Mathew says. Now I feel even worse for getting my dad a tie. My dad is so surprised to get something unusual he doesn�t quite know what to say, what would be the most �fatherly�. Mom�s present is the same as it always is, a gift basket of chocolate, but Dad is so happy about his fish that he doesn�t really notice.
Then my brother and I go back to my apartment.
I push my brother into the elevator and press the button to take us to floor three.
I don�t know why I offered to take him home with me, maybe it was because I felt so bad for him. I could see him yearning to get away from Mom and Dad, but what he really wanted was to be alone. As soon as he said he�d come home with me I knew that he didn�t just want to get away from Mom but from everybody.
He wanted to be the warm lonely little center of the earth. He wanted to be the solitary king of the mountain. If there were no one around him, he would have a reason to feel lonely.
Somewhere between the first and second floor our elevator stops.
Mathew frowns but says nothing.
I press a button and tell the speaker that our elevator has stopped. A voice comes back to me telling me they�ll get me out as soon as possible. I turn back to Mathew and shrug. Everything is quiet with the exception of Kenny G playing softly above us. Listening to the music and looking at my brother I wonder, what does silence sound like?
My brother puts on a trucker�s hat and takes a cigarette from a bag on his wheelchair.
�Does Mom know you�re doing that?� I ask. He lights the tip and takes a drag.
�What do you think?� He looks at me for a second then turns away. I think that maybe I should tell him to stop because Mom would never forgive me if she found out I knew he smoked, but I don�t.
Dr. Smith says I need to have more confidence in myself.
There is this horrible distance between Mathew and I. Being around my brother always makes me feel guilty for walking, for having my own apartment, for having my life instead of his. Being around him always makes me think I should be telling him I�m sorry. I want to talk to him and repair whatever is broken between us.
Matt puts his cigarette out on the wheel of his chair then carelessly throws it on the floor.
�Do you think what we�ve done in our lives will matter when we die?� He asks abruptly. I look at his reflection in the elevator door. His grey eyes are looking almost fiercely at my reflection.
�Yeah,� I say unsure of myself, �I think it does.�
�Because god cares?� my brother asks as he takes his eyes away from my reflection and turns his chair to face me.