Dear Stanley [Watty's 2019. Completed]

Bad memory

Friday, March 29th

Dear Stanley,

I had another memory.

This one surprisingly wasn't pleasant - like all the other ones I have of you. This one made my heart ache.

Mom and Dad were out for the weekend, on a small trip for only the two of them. They did this at least once a year, a time to relax and distress.

The first time was when you were in 7th grade and I was in 5th. They weren't worried too much about any trouble, you never caused havoc to Mom and Dads life, only to outsiders. And our town was too small and too friendly to have any murders or robberies happening.

And I know every year they did this, you and me would spend time together. Only the two of us. I loved it.

During your 7th grade year, you taught me how to skateboard in the abandoned skate park that was closed off for construction. I remember the sun beating down on us, hot and heavy, but I also remember your encouraging words every time I fell off the skateboard. Then in the night, after you successfully taught me the basics, we stayed up pretty late laughing and sharing secrets on the front yard underneath the stars.

During your 8th grade year, we rode our bikes to the creek in the hidden woods and you taught me how to fish. Fishing there was against the rules, but when have rules ever intimidated you? I remember feeling frustrated as my patience ran out and I couldn't get a single catch, but you kept your cool and kept soothing me, telling me to keep trying. By the end of the day, I caught 4 small trouts that you attempted to cook for lunch. It didn't go well but the recollection of that moment is humorous - making me laugh every time I think about it.

During your freshmen year, you took me to a farmers apple orchard and we stole around a dozen of his juicy and ripe apples, laughing the entire time. I remember feeling extremely nervous, but you calmed me down and taught me to live a little. Freshmen year, you also taught me how to ride a horse. I don't even know how you knew how to do that- but I never questioned it. I reveled in the attention you were giving me.

The thing is Stanley, all 3 of those precious memories involved only the two of us. No one else. So when you told me you were going to be throwing a party sophomore year, I felt disappointed.

Maybe disappointed is an understatement.

I felt completely shattered.

You were going to throw a massive party. The party of the year. You were going to invite everyone, all the high school grades from every social group. The popular ones, the try hards, the nerds, the losers... all of them.

And the worst part was that you told me to stay locked in my room the entire time. You told me not show myself to anyone. As if you were embarrassed of me.

You were inviting everyone to your high school party except your own brother.

That was a shock for me then. I never thought this day would come. I never expected you to toss me aside like that - to disregard me.

Maybe this was how it was with other siblings. Maybe other kids didn't get mad when their older siblings threw a party they weren't invited to. But to me, it was the end of the world.

Now when I think about it, there were subtle hints leading up to this. You were becoming a little more distant from me everyday. You ignored me in school instead of saying hi with a beaming smile like you always did, and you stopped asking me what the most interesting part of my day was. You even turned down any of my attempts to start a conversation with you.

I remember hearing the pumping rhythm of the music blasting downstairs, hearing the excited chattering of everyone. I remember the smell of weed and pot wafting up to my nostrils, and I remember thinking: I hope no one gives any of that to Stanley.

But the thing that I remember the most are the tears. The steady burning trail of them sneaking out of my eyes no matter how tightly I closed them. I remember my heart aching and caving in.

You walked in my bedroom a few hours past midnight, after the party activity died down, and saw me with my puffy eyes and runny nose, rocking in bed. You didn't say anything about it - even though it was obvious I was crying - and instead said: "Come downstairs and help me clean up."

I wanted to say no. I wanted to say why should I? First you pretend I don't exist (just like everyone else) and then you want me to clean up the mess that you made.

My mind was screaming at you, I wanted to say something then Stanley.

But I remained silent. I gave a tight smile through fatigued and bleary eyes, and got out of bed. We stayed up till dawn throwing away plastic cups and plates, cleaning up broken furniture and stains. And the entire time, we didn't exchange a word. I hated it. You were Stanley, you were supposed to fill the house with your liveliness.

But you were lost in your head, performing tasks like a robot, vacuuming the white carpet and picking litter off of our dark oak floors like it was your sole purpose in life.

There was a fury inside of me, a fury I didn't know I possessed. You might not have known it, have ever known it, but that was the first time I was mad at you. That was the first time I felt an emotion remotely close to dislike for you.

It took me by surprise because I never thought that I'd ever feel a negative emotion towards you. Yet here I was, waiting for you to say something to me. To tell me how you'll take me somewhere exotic sometime. Waiting for an apology.

That apology never came.

My entire life, I believed that we weren't another pair of siblings. I thought we were different.  Closer in a way. With unbreakable bonds tying us together. I always thought that it didn't matter if the whole damn world ignored me.

Because in the end, I'd have you.

I guess I was wrong.

This memory seems to have tainted my thoughts. It's like I am looking at you in a different light, and it's a foreign feeling passes through me.

Maybe this isn't the only bad memory I have of you. Maybe you weren't the perfect person that I thought and I just haven't remembered all the other unpleasant times with you yet.

It's all very confusing, and I'd rather not think about. I'd rather keep the unflawed Stanley in my mind, and I'm too scared to recall anything else.

Because this memory created a fracture in the perfect brother image I had for you.

And we all know - what is damaged will eventually break.