Operation Brother
Operation BrotherPaper 1: Operation Brother
I had just pulled into my driveway on an ordinary Saturday night after finishing my shift at the local drug store photo lab. Every weekend after work I would report in at home and tell my parents the ups and downs of my day, which customers angered me, and why I couldn’t stand my boss. Something was different this night. It wasn’t the cool breeze through the warm summer evening’s air, or even the loud chirping of the cricket calling his mate. All of these sounds where typical of the humid summer evenings in Florida. The lack of a distinct sound, a voice, is what confused the proceedings of this night. The lack of my sixteen-year-old brother’s nagging and pestering was actually quite relaxing.
I took full advantage of this solitude in my room, where night after night, the two of us argued over music stations, television shows, and control over the remote control. If it was a topic you could think of, Charlie and I fought over it. The slight ringing in my ear due to the silence that engulfed me was ever so delightful. I casually turned on my favorite CD and changed out of my uniform into clubbing clothes. As I walked out the door, after informing the folks of my night’s activities, I gave no thought to the whereabouts of that which caused my insanity.
I then picked up my friend Micha who had a brother of his own. Micha and his brother had a relationship that was foreign to me. As I walked into their house, the two of them where laughing and playing a game on the computer. “Is this normal?” I asked myself. Surely these
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two siblings were unique. This was not the only occurrence of such behavior that I have observed from them. No two individuals could have had a stronger bond, period.
The drive into the city was fairly quiet when compared to normal outings. For some reason I could not stop thinking about what it would be like to enjoy being with Charlie.
“Micha, how do you do it? How do you keep from ripping your brother’s head off? Don’t the two of you ever fight?” I asked.
Micha simply giggled and said, “ We fight all of the time. Normally it is just about stupid crap like who has to do dishes. I guess we just do it, you know, get along. I mean there is no specific process or art.”
I proceeded to argue, “Man, I’m serious. Charlie and I fight all of the time. We get serious too. Sometimes I am surprised we don’t jump right into a fistfight.”
“Dude, you just need to relax. Next time you approach him, don’t mention any of that crap that gets you fighting. Just act chill, and talk to him like a friend, not a brother.”
Micha’s words seemed to stick with me. How could getting along be so simple? There is no way something like that would work. If I really wanted things to change though, I would have to be the initiator. The road seemed to extend forever into the blackness of the unknown. I am about to leave for Colorado, and I need to fix things with Charlie. With each mile driven, I came up with a new line to tell him, and with each exit, a new plan all together. Maybe I should just ask him to come out with me sometime. Would we survive through the night?
As we pulled into the club, I seemed to partially forget the previous occurrences and conversations. All of my buddies and all of the girls were congregated around the front door. We proceeded in and had a good time. Around 11:30 I sat down to take a break from dancing when one of the guys in our group came up to me.
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“Hey what’s up Bill?” he asked.
I replied with a degree of exhaustion in my voice, “Not much man. I’m just taking a bit of a rest.”
“I want you to meet my brother Jake. He lives with my dad in South Carolina, and is down here visiting for the whole week.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said completely dumbfounded. The conversation continued, but I cannot recollect what was said. My mind was going nuts again. Tonight was the night. When I get home, Charlie and I were going to have a serious talk about the relationship we have and how we can fix it.
The rest of the night was a blur, but not from exhaustion or loud music and people dancing everywhere like so many other nights had been. The night was fogged with thoughts of my brother. I couldn’t help but feel relieved when we finally decided to leave. It was 1:30 as we pulled out of the parking lot, and 2:00 when I dropped off Micha. The trip seemed to take forever, but when I finally got home, I felt as though I had just walked off the dance floor. I had so much going through my head, so many strange, yet good feeling thoughts about my brother. This was it; we were finally going to meet ends.
I walked in, told the folks I was home, and went straight into the room. Charlie wasn’t there? I immediately went back to my parents who said he was down the street with his friend Greg watching some movies and he would be home really late. I accepted this delay in Operation Brother, which I had cleverly named my plan on the drive home, and disappeared into the solitude of my room once again. The room didn’t seem right. I was supposed to enjoy being in there alone. I was supposed to enjoy watching what I wanted and turning the fan on all of the
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way. The slight ringing in my ear from the silence came back once I shut off the television. The same noise that comforted me and relaxed every muscle in my body was now causing me to cringe. I could almost feel the hair growing from my head, neck, and arms with every pulsating tick of my alarm clock. My entire night was spent an agony for what reason? Why was I putting myself through all of this? Was I trying to be someone I haven’t been for sixteen years? I couldn’t decide whether I was truly doing this for myself, or if I was simply trying to save face with my friends and my parents. I began to doubt the impact Operation Brother would even have on our current situation.
After beating myself to death in lei of the solitude in the room I managed to fall asleep, only to wake up to another day of arguments and bickering. I had managed to blow off all thoughts of becoming buds, and made no attempt to be friendly accept for simply ignoring his accusations and egging on. This method seemed to work, and I was able to once again feel normal. For the next two weeks that I spent in my own home before coming to Colorado, Charlie and I said little more than “pass the milk,” and “the phones for you,” to each other.
Now I sit at the United States Air Force Academy, wondering what my brother is doing. I wonder day after day if he is okay without me. Does he enjoy the silence, the ringing in the ear, and the control of the remote, or is he too bothered by the fact that two people who spent sixteen years sharing the same room don’t even now each other? I often wonder what will become of us. I want desperately to know my brother, to understand his thoughts, and to share his dreams and passions.
I wonder often what the future will hold for Charlie and me. My father and his brother are close friends and rely on each other during the hard times. I do not want to live my life
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wondering what could have happened. As for Operation Brother, the time is now. I cannot let
myself fall into the trap of disgust and hatred. The only option I have left is to make up with my brother as soon as possible. Now that I have moved out of the house, I am changing myself
to become a responsible adult, Charlie is the key to holding onto family. Without family, I am nothing.