I stole my brothers only joy during the worst year of our lives and he still doesnt know
My brother and I are solid now. He is older, and like any brothers, we had our share of scraps, but he is the first person I would call if my car broke down or I needed a loan. But there is this one memory that just rots in the back of my mind. It was years ago, back when we were kids. Our father had just walked out on us and my mom was working herself to death just to keep the lights on. Money didnt just exist back then. We were essentially choosing between food and heat most months.
One afternoon my mom came home with a small "luxury" for us. It was just two small bags of chips or nuts, something cheap, but to us it was like winning the lottery. I was young and stupidly impulsive, so I polished off my bag in about two minutes. The second it was gone, I felt that desperate kid-greed. I told my mom that while I was in the other room, my brother had reached into my bag and eaten half of it.
My mom was exhausted and stressed, so she didnt question it. She laid into him, calling him selfish and demanding he give me half of his portion to make it right. I remember the look on his face. He wasnt even sad, he was just pure, focused fury because he knew I was lying, but he had no way to prove it. He handed over the food without a word and didnt speak to me for days.
We grew up, life got better, and we eventually moved past the "poor years." He probably hasnt thought about those chips in a decade. But I think about it whenever we grab a beer or hang out. In a time when he had nothing, I used our moms stress as a weapon to take away the one tiny bit of comfort he had. It feels so pathetic and small now that we are adults. I am sitting here with a stable career and my cat Demik , yet I still feel like that greasy little thief who couldnt let his brother have five minutes of peace.