brothers

"Annoying girl."
I read those two words
in my brother's English 11
notebook today. I was searching
for something to sketch in, and there
it was, forgotten.

He was responding to quickwrites
for the class, and throughout that
whole year, he mentioned me only
once. And that was how he put it:
"Annoying girl."

I wonder if he
remembers those words.
I wonder if he still meant them
as we had a limited conversation
on the hospital phone, me trying not
to cry, and him asking how I was.

I wonder if he
still means it as he
describes me to strangers.
Mum says he boasts now, telling
them of how I'm smart, capable, and have
a bright future. She says that they're both proud
of me.

I don't know
how true it is.

This brother's twin,
my other brother, came home
Thursday morning, knocking on my
bedroom door, sobbing. His clothes were covered
in vomit. His car was, too. He'd lost his phone
and blacked out for hours, waking up in a hotel
parking lot with no sort of recollection.

I gave him my phone,
washed his clothes, handed
him new ones and rubbed his back
as he spoke, desperately, to my mum.

He said he's
really giving up
drinking this time.

I don't know
how true it is.

I love them. They're
flawed. We don't handle each
other like glass, but rather like the plastic
tupaware that took a beating from our dishwasher.

We're there,
though: dependable.

"Annoying girl."
I'm not mad, or upset.
Things like this... they make sense.