Apologies for going MIA again at the beginning of this week…I had a bit of family "dram-er" (as they would say here in The Bean) happen involving my brother, the Hairy Fat Worm.
Brandon had moved to L.A. two weeks ago with the plan to attend school out West, and pursue some music stuff in his spare time. On Saturday evening, I received a frantic message from my mother saying that he was thinking of pulling an about-face and coming home before the first day of classes. Now, the offspring of my family (that would be H.F.W. and myself) have a "special" history of trying to flee stressful stiuations and head straight back to the biological nest. I know the feeling of being alone and tentative in an unfamiliar location; I mean, I had my Carnegie Mellon transfer papers filled out by the end of my first week of classes at U.Cincinnati.
Still, I stuck with college…and I've stuck with Boston (thus far,) despite a few anxiety-triggered episodes where I threatened to leave. And through everything, I really think that I am stronger and have a fuller life for riding the bumps and not turning the car around, so to speak. As such, I was determined to convince my brother that he could make it in a new, exciting city, too. I mean, hell, who wouldn't want to live the student lifestyle next to the ocean in Cali?
After nearly two hours of intense phone conversation where I picked his brain clean of all doubt, irrational fear, and restored practicality and order, I turned my nightstand light off at 1:37 a.m. I had fulfilled my role as The Older Sibling. I was supportive, logical, reassuring.
Sunday was quiet…eerily quiet.
On Monday evening, I got another message from Mother-elli that Brandon hadn't even gone to the first day of classes and was coming home, like, as we spoke. The two months of rent paid? The textbooks bought? The available West Coast college frosh? All squandered and disregarded. Suddenly, I felt like a pretty lame big sister. Harumph.
I guess my brother will likely beat me home since my flight doesn't arrive in Pittsburgh until Thursday evening and he's been on the road for over two days now. I'm sure we'll have words, although I'm almost too sad and disappointed and confused to engage. What makes a very capable someone freeze and bolt repeatedly?
I love my brother, but I hate his patterns of behavior.
One thing is for sure…it's time for some tough love. So if that kid stays in the shower for longer than 15 minutes while I'm at home, he's getting a bucket of freezing cold water poured over his head and me screaming, "How's California lookin' NOW?!?!"