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Asking me to help my brother not sink into the same hole I did. He called me crying cause he’s old and tired. I can’t listen to my father cry. It does something to me from the inside.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing I just wanted to talk to you,” he says.
“I have time are you ok?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath and I can hear his voice quiver slightly.
“We’re made from the same cut,” he tells me. “Your brother isn’t like you. He’s not that strong. You and me, we live and survive things. We’ve already fucked up our lives but we can still help him.”
“I know,” I tell him. My eyes get watery.
“Please Mija,” he says. “I can’t do this alone. I had to swallow my pride to call you but you were the only one that I knew I could ask.”
He noticed my brothers shaking hands yesterday when we went to go visit. I could smell the liquor when I got into the car. His eyes were steady and he made plain old conversation. He asked me how I was doing as always I told him nothing new. Before we got to the house I asked him about the drinking.
“I don’t know how to quit,” he tells me quietly. “Is it obvious?”
“Only cause I’m there too,” I tell him.
“I’ve cut back you know but no one believes me,” he says.
“You seemed better for a little while,” I say. “**** you know I’m not one to tell you what to do but if you need to talk and shit you can call me.”
I thought of how months ago that’s all we did and he cried and cried. He feels connected to me and I can’t be his savior. He’s going to school now. He’s running in the mornings but in the evenings when he’s home alone. It’s him and the liquor. One on one. Straight out of the bottle because no one else is going to have some.
“It’s hard you know?” he asks.
“Yeah I know it all too well,” I answer. “You know the hardest thing is being able to recognize and change. I can only tell you that cause I know it first hand but no one really gets it unless they stand where you and I are standing. Right on the edge.”
We were at a red light and I could feel his eyes on me. I turned to look at him only because I know he needed to see my eyes. His were watery. Mine were quick to look away and tell him that it was a green light. So tonight when my father called I wasn’t sure how to feel or what he was asking me to do. I know that in many ways I was forced to deal with my issue. No one ever held my fucken hand but I can’t be angry because I never wanted anyone’s help. Fuck you and fuck them I know who I am and were I stand with my addiction.
He is scared and careless with his. He talks to them about it. He talks to me about it. He’s selfish and needy. He’s angry and lonely and anti-social but he’s beautiful. So in the end my father has asked me to be his savior. To talk to him into moving back home or offering to perhaps let him stay with me for a little while so he can experience something else. My other brother is self-absorbed and maybe he shouldn’t have to be the one to deal with him.
“He doesn’t deserve it,” he tells me.
“I can promise to try to talk to him,” I said finally. “Don’t tell him you talked to me and until I tell you too don’t talk to him about it. Call him but don’t say anything of what you just told me.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Do you remember when your uncle was living with us?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I don’t want your brother going through that,” he said.
My uncle had stayed with us for a few months. In those months he had totaled my father’s car and had broken a window when my dad wouldn’t let him into the house. One night both of them were drinking and things took a turn for a worse. My uncle called my father a hypocrite and my father in turn tried to kick him out. My uncle proceeded to egg my father on and then it turned physical. My father threw my uncle in to a wall and my uncle realizing he couldn’t possibly take my dad down grabbed a knife and cut his arm. My brothers were crying in the living room. We had been spying from the dark. I had been known to do that. I was twelve at the time. My brothers begged me not to call the police because they were going to take both of them. They deserve it I thought. So I called and they drug my uncle away to a holding tank for the night. In the morning he returned and disappeared for months. Before leaving he told me he wasn’t angry with me and kissed me goodbye. My uncle is now a heroin addict.
“Papi, we’ll fix it ok?” I’m not sure who I was trying to reassure. Me or him.
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