I called my brother to remind him to call my mom to wish her and our stepfather a happy anniversary and he sounded like crap so I asked him what was wrong and he said, simply, "Puking."
Hungover? Sick? What?
"Sick."
I was on my lunch break at work so I offered to bring him some soup afterwards and he accepted. Two hours and $40 in groceries later, I bestowed upon him chicken noodle soup, chicken broth, vitamin C, Pepto Bismol, two bottles of ginger ale, peppermint tea, two packets of emergenC, and a bottle of blue Gatorade. (I also bought myself a pink glittery razor because I have a vagina and thus, things like that make me happy.) Anyway, motherly instincts much?
After I hauled the stuff four blocks from the bus stop to his apartment, I made us each a cup of broth with a pat of butter on top (the only butter he had in his near-empty fridge had the date 4/25/05 on it, but no adverse affects so far) and told him how to make the broken blood vessels in his eyes feel better (after he makes a cup of tea, let the teabag -- heh, teabag -- cool a bit and put it on his eyes for a few minutes). Honestly, I don't know how boys survive without girls.
We talked about the girl he's been seeing ("stupid as fuck but sweet as hell") and the other girl he's been fucking (a groupie leftover from his days in the band), how our dad's coming into town this weekend (we wondered if we should get drunk and/or high before, during, or after our supposedly sober father has arrived), why Video Vixens on TechTV is creepy (me: "Yeah, I saw the previews--" him: "I can't even sit through a whole show"), how I'm doing as a server (awesome), and eventually, why I had to be home by 7 to meet the McSweeney's guy to get my assignment for the week.
My brother has lived in the same city as I for six months now and I've been to his apartment three times before this visit: once to check it out before he signed a lease, once to drop off a Swiffer, and once to pick up the Swiffer. We'll go weeks without talking (I forgot he lived in the city) and then call each other every day for a little while. If I wasn't related to him, I would have no idea he exists (when I transferred to his high school, his friends told him that there was a new girl at school who had his bizarro last name. He'd never mentioned me). It's just...weird how two people can grow up in the same house, be raised by the same people, and be complete polar opposites yet still get along on some level. I don't know if I would like him if I didn't have to love him, I can't depend on him for anything, but I wouldn't be anything like I am today if it weren't for him.
Some advice he's bestowed upon me:
"When you're carrying martini glasses, don't think about the glass, just pick it up and go."
"Not everyone needs to know your life story."
"You don't have to be a bitch all the time."
"It's ok to smoke pot."
Some lessons I've learned from him:
You don't choose your family, but you do choose your friends.
If all you ever give people is your act, you can't expect people to be there when you're not on.
Not everyone deserves respect.
It is possible to get over the past.
It's ok to smoke pot sometimes.