Yesterday, I texted my little brother just to tell him that I love him; that he's one of the most remarkable human beings that I have ever met. To which he responded with "I love you too, sis. What's on your mind?" Even though little brothers have the ability to make everything OK, it would appear that they are very skeptical creatures. "Can't I just tell you that I love you?"
"Of course you can. But why?" Really kid? Really? Because I love you and I miss you. That's why. Then he asked for what he refers to as the "SISREP." That's the sister report. "Listen Brother. I don't have one. I just love you. Let's talk when you don't think I need something from you." I was pissed. Not at Conrad. At myself. Because apparently, that's what our relationship has been reduced to. He only thinks I call when I need him. That made my heart hurt. I don't want to be that to anybody. I don't want to be that leach, the energy vampire, as some might call it. So I just told to him go back to softball.
Then, between games he texted me and said "I'll call you when I get home." I told him not to. Detroit is three hours ahead of California and he should sleep. But he called anyway. And, of course, I answered. Because I needed him. Duh. How did he know that and I didn't? See. This is what I'm saying. Little brother's know shit. They're prophets like that.
We talked for awhile about his plans and his beautiful bride and his disdain for his job. He made me think that it was about him. Then, out of fucking left field, my baby brother told me that I am the embodiment of the the middle finger. I laughed. Because what else do you do when your little brother tells you that you are a metaphor for a big "fuck you." I told him while that might be true, it wasn't getting me any job interviews. Apparently, that position has already been filled. Conrad didn't laugh though. He said something that shut me up. He said "You're amazing because you raise a little human being single-handedly, while your job disappears, the people around you hold you back society says you need to be 'x,y,z' and yet you stay you. Not compromising your belief of how you should raise a child and who you or he should be."
"Sis, you are the embodiment of the middle finger to the conforming members of society who do it out of fear or laziness. You are a middle finger in skirts and heels. Basically, the best dressed middle finger in the area." This is a fucking analogy that only Conrad could formulate. And he wonders why I just call to make sure he knows that I love him.
As we finished up more than two hours of FaceTime, solving the worlds problems and creating a better future for the generations that will follow, Conrad said "I love you, Ang. I believe in you. I have fought along side you forever. And I will continue to fight by your side. And when you can't fight anymore, I will fight for you. I fight for you because it comes naturally, it's instinctual. Also, you look like shit right now"
I hung up because I didn't want him to see me cry. I didn't cry because he told me I look like shit. In fact, I don't think he actually said that. I think that's just something I heard because I didn't want to hear the rest of it. I cried because his words echoed somewhere deep in the hollow of my soul. I laid down in bed and thought about everything we had talked about, everything my little brother had told me. I didn't sleep for hours and I couldn't figure out why. You'd think you'd sleep really well knowing that somebody loves you as honestly and wholeheartedly as my little brother loves me.
Then I figured it out. It was the guilt that kept me awake. It was the unnerving feeling that my brother loves me for something that I am not. He loves me for something that he sees in me that I don't see in myself. I woke up this morning and, for the first time in years, I knew what I wanted: When I grow up, I want to be the person my little brother thinks I am.
-Inner Peas
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