Having a sibling that is 6 years older than you can really teach you a lot in things in life before than you even want to. My brother Scott and I, usually fought. We didn’t usually get along because of the age difference, I was still too immature for his liking. But thinking back on specific moments in my childhood gives me the joy and reasoning my brother is still my brother. Thinking back and remembering that there was a time that he and I bonded so strongly it still takes effect today, but not in similar ways from before. But before, we would combine our minds together and ruminate about fake games for us to play.
One game in particular was my personal favorite, it was the one that always made me laugh the most. He always knew how to make me laugh, so when he made me cry he would know how to make me feel better. This game involved my stuffed animals that I adored, they were not so plushy and soft, they were my ammo and Scott was my target. Home ground was bed and he had no weapons but his hands. He dodged left to right and jumping to laying. He dodged my bullets, and when I hit him he jumped back and made a noise of an explosion. It was epic, and it made me laugh, because it sounded like a fart noise. We called it Matrix, based on the movie of course, but made it our own.
I think his favorite game was when we would combine our Yugioh and Pokémon cards and make up characters of our own to battle. I always used the purple armor with the spikes on the shoulders for protection that I used from the Yugioh deck and the strength of Pikachu because he was electric, also he was my favorite Pokémon. Scott always made his character stronger than mine, of course, it is to believe that older always wins because he has authority. Something like that, I never understood how that came about. But anyway, he always had black armor and super strength also based off the yugioh cards. We would run around the house, I would jump on the couch and onto the floor making gun shooting sound affecting as he ran across the coffee table dodging me with his shield. As I jump on the ground facing him, we draw, and he defeats me. Although I lost, it was always a win for me.
Another game we played often was when he would put a blanket over top of his head, and then when the light was off I had to run around the room and get away from him otherwise I was it. He was the monster, and I had to get back to the light switch to turn it on to make him freeze in his tracks. It was time for me to be safe and take a breath. I only had 10 seconds. It was thrilling I would be running around so fast I couldn’t catch my breath, I was afraid I would trip but jumped over obstacles of clothing and Barbie dolls. It was always in my room that we played it because it was bigger and had more room to run around. It always smelled like a fresh blanket in my room. Or dust which was devastating because I was allergic to it. I had a large window, the size of my wall and I had white shear curtains that looked beautiful as the sun shined through putting the shadow of a tree outside against the carpet reaching my wall, making a stunning silhouette. As I would run around the room it was my first time feeling an adrenaline rush. It was exciting and frightening, but it was ok because I knew my brother wouldn’t purposely hurt me and even if it was an accident, he knew how to make me feel better.
I knew having fun times with my brother wasn’t going to last long. I sure hoped so and I didn’t realize it until after we drifted. But I wasn’t too surprised when I did realize it. Him being about 15, and I was 9. Mommy just remarried to a man for god knows what reason. She couldn’t be without one. Meaning she isn’t independent. It was about 2am, I woke up thirsty, so I made my way out of my bed, down the stairs quietly, I didn’t want to wake anyone up. As I reach upon the last step, I see my brother on the back patio deck. I was startled I wasn’t expecting him to be sitting out there. I stopped on my tracks, and noticed smoke coming from between his fingers. I sneaked closer so he wouldn’t see me, as I hunched over and tip toed across as discreet that I could, I noticed that he was holding a cigarette. That’s when I knew something was wrong.
Since then, it was the last time we ever played, or bonded together. The only thing we ever did together anymore was fight. He was now introduced into new things which I wasn’t aware of. I was too young to understand what my brother was going through, but what I did understand, he was growing apart from his little sister and he was in trouble constantly. Eventually I stopped bothering him. We drifted and the times we did get along, it still wasn’t the same. He was a bully. But he never hurt me. But he threatened to throw me out a window. To this day he has never done it, but he has gotten close. To this day he still says, “I’m gonna throw you out a window!” He is joking of course, at least I hope so.. When I was 14, I found out my brother was involved with drug related substances. My own brother, the same brother that I pretended was a monster became realistic. The same brother that dodged stuffed animals used as pretend ammo is now dodging the cops. The same brother that would battle me with pretend guns, now battles the court and street thugs. The same brother that would carry me to my bedroom after I fell asleep and tuck me in, now carries illegal substances tucked in his pockets.
He would teach me the basics of rap music, 50 Cent was G-Unit, and that T.I was one of the greatest rappers and was shot on the street. Then also, gang related video games for example; The Godfather: Video game, Carleone gang color is black, Barzin was green, Tattogila was tan, Cueno was red and then Stracci was blue. I never thought that the brother who I knew, use to make fart noises as an explosion to make me giggle, now makes me cry because I never knew what he is doing, whether or not he had a place to stay, or something to eat. He’s either couch to couch, streets to streets, or jail cell to jail cell. He never had a place to call home. Mother would always kick him out for stealing her medication or her jewelry, to pawn for more medication.
I was an aunt at the age of 13, he hasn’t seen Gabriel in 4 years. The first kid he ever had. The girlfriend went ballistic and doesn’t let Scott see him. I thought that maybe this would be the first time he would realize how to grow up. I thought wrong. He has brought a lot of girls in and out of the double-wide, I was introduced to a variety of uncanny personalities. When I use to be introduced to life lessons, and a new ways to laugh. Scott isn’t who he was. I’m not even sure he remembers who he used to be.
A memory I can always relive; my old room use to be the basement, and in the basement was a punching bag. I never really used it very often, I never needed to. Until I had a break down. I remember sitting in my room, listening to Eminem, and this song “Beautiful” came on. My brother wasn’t in jail at the time, he was living in Alma. When I heard that song, I instantly started to sob, it reminded me of my brother. Practically word for word, it was like Eminem was in my head. I wrapped my hands up with the ever last brand grip wrap, put a tank top on, some shorts, and blared “Beautiful.” I lost myself, I was so angry and upset. Tears running down my face, I couldn’t hit it hard enough, my knuckles and ankles bleed from frustration. I was so mad at him. I then stopped, because I couldn’t breathe. Took a deep breath and slowly sat against my bed, sobbing. I grabbed my phone and called him. As tears ran down my face, he answered the phone and I told him I missed him, and I love him and I wish I could see him. He told me to keep my chin up, and that he loves me.
I needed to return the favor; I remember the times he would thank me for when I made him feel better, the brother I knew taught me that. He taught me how to keep my chin up, because he always knew how. I was always there for every phone call. Every time I answered that phone he was crying. The phone would ring, and my mother would answer it with my brother on the other end, sobbing with disgust within himself reaching out for human contact. My mother becoming frustrated and upset and making it worse. I grab the phone and tell my mother to go back into the living room. Preparing myself to switch roles and teach him all the things he taught me. Because he thought so little of himself and I told him to keep going. To stay strong, because he taught me that. I told him that life is hard, but he can make it. He has made it this far and I’m proud of him. I tell him to listen, because things get rough, but it’s a part of life only you can change it. I hear him cry on the other end. As I spoke like I was preaching to a choir. My brother sniffles one last time, takes a deep breath and tells me thank you, and he loves me.