he smiles with sea foam green eyes that look just like mine.
Speeding up on his tightrope by swinging his arms, he bounds over to me, and a wide grin spreads across his face, a dimple sneaking out on each side. My baby brother, the sweetest and weirdest and most frustrating human I know.
“Hey, Lana,” he says, hugging me. He’s wearing a waffle knit sweater that’s way too big, a parka with the zipper open and sneakers with loose laces.
“Hey, Lexi, thanks for coming to get me!”
“Yeah, well, Mom made me. I’ve got a jacket for you in the car. It’s cold and starting to snow. Dad made stew to welcome you home. I tried it. It was pretty gross. We should probably stop to get something.”
“You look great!” I tell him.
“You look all LA. Since when do you wear a blazer?”
“How’s school?”
“It’s shit, but I’m making the best of it.”
The automatic doors open into curbside transportation, and the air is frigid. It’s the Midwest in February. I didn’t come prepared, and right away my teeth chatter. Lexi stops rolling the suitcase and offers me his parka.
“It’s okay. I’m wearing two sweaters.”
“You’re wracking up brother points. Watch out, pretty soon I’ll invite you out to visit.”
Lexi smiles and puts his arm around me. God, I’d almost forgotten how much I adore my brother. I used to think he was gay and too shy to come out, but unfortunately, its much more complicated than that. Lexi is awkward, and there is something unsettling about him. He laughs at things no one else laughs at and can’t ever seem to make friends. I’d chock it up to cultural differences, but my paternal grandparents emigrated from Russia and my mother’s family came over when she was sixteen. Our roots have been growing here long enough to be culturally assimilated. In school growing up, his weirdo status never seemed to bother him. It bothered me more. I was always hysterically protective of him. He got made fun of, and worse, he was shunned. Lex, shrugged it all off while I was constantly throwing down in the school yard and ready to fight.
He’s brought his junker—a rust eaten 91’ Ford escort— the most boring of cars.
“Do you want to drive through downtown just since it’s been a while?”
“That sounds good, Lex. The snow is beautiful. Hey, are you seeing anyone at school?”
He removes one hand from the steering wheel and scratches his mop, pushing strands back behind his big ears.
“Same question back at you, Dr. Ruth. Nice lead in. You know Mom and Dad will want to hear this one.”
“Truce. And the answer is only when I’m drunk and I know I won’t fall for him.”
I look out at the dark street and draw a circle in the wet fog on the window. I press the button to roll the window down all the way. When it goes back up again the moisture is gone and I can see the street better. I wish I were seeing someone. I wish I were seeing you-know-who.
“Should we stop for coffee or something to eat? Mom and Dad will be asleep by the time we get home.”
“Do you drink coffee at midnight?”
“I do it all the time. I like to go to the Greyhound bus station. We’re coming right up on it. The coffee is bad, but they’re open twenty-four hours and they give away the day-old Danish when the shifts change.”
We grew up in Oak Park, to the north of the city. A lot of families later moved to West Bloomfield when they could afford the real estate. But we stayed in the same house we’ve always been in. It’s not surprising considering my mom doesn’t even know her way around downtown Detroit.
The streetlights all have rainbow orbs through the wet car window. I’d think we were in a winter wonderland if I didn’t already know what a dump it is under the snow.
“You go there ‘cause you’re strapped for cash? Aren’t you doing work-study?”
“What? Oh yeah. No, I just like stuff better when it’s free.”
He’s pulling into the bus station parking lot as he says
Speeding up on his tightrope by swinging his arms, he bounds over to me, and a wide grin spreads across his face, a dimple sneaking out on each side. My baby brother, the sweetest and weirdest and most frustrating human I know.
“Hey, Lana,” he says, hugging me. He’s wearing a waffle knit sweater that’s way too big, a parka with the zipper open and sneakers with loose laces.
“Hey, Lexi, thanks for coming to get me!”
“Yeah, well, Mom made me. I’ve got a jacket for you in the car. It’s cold and starting to snow. Dad made stew to welcome you home. I tried it. It was pretty gross. We should probably stop to get something.”
“You look great!” I tell him.
“You look all LA. Since when do you wear a blazer?”
“How’s school?”
“It’s shit, but I’m making the best of it.”
The automatic doors open into curbside transportation, and the air is frigid. It’s the Midwest in February. I didn’t come prepared, and right away my teeth chatter. Lexi stops rolling the suitcase and offers me his parka.
“It’s okay. I’m wearing two sweaters.”
“You’re wracking up brother points. Watch out, pretty soon I’ll invite you out to visit.”
Lexi smiles and puts his arm around me. God, I’d almost forgotten how much I adore my brother. I used to think he was gay and too shy to come out, but unfortunately, its much more complicated than that. Lexi is awkward, and there is something unsettling about him. He laughs at things no one else laughs at and can’t ever seem to make friends. I’d chock it up to cultural differences, but my paternal grandparents emigrated from Russia and my mother’s family came over when she was sixteen. Our roots have been growing here long enough to be culturally assimilated. In school growing up, his weirdo status never seemed to bother him. It bothered me more. I was always hysterically protective of him. He got made fun of, and worse, he was shunned. Lex, shrugged it all off while I was constantly throwing down in the school yard and ready to fight.
He’s brought his junker—a rust eaten 91’ Ford escort— the most boring of cars.
“Do you want to drive through downtown just since it’s been a while?”
“That sounds good, Lex. The snow is beautiful. Hey, are you seeing anyone at school?”
He removes one hand from the steering wheel and scratches his mop, pushing strands back behind his big ears.
“Same question back at you, Dr. Ruth. Nice lead in. You know Mom and Dad will want to hear this one.”
“Truce. And the answer is only when I’m drunk and I know I won’t fall for him.”
I look out at the dark street and draw a circle in the wet fog on the window. I press the button to roll the window down all the way. When it goes back up again the moisture is gone and I can see the street better. I wish I were seeing someone. I wish I were seeing you-know-who.
“Should we stop for coffee or something to eat? Mom and Dad will be asleep by the time we get home.”
“Do you drink coffee at midnight?”
“I do it all the time. I like to go to the Greyhound bus station. We’re coming right up on it. The coffee is bad, but they’re open twenty-four hours and they give away the day-old Danish when the shifts change.”
We grew up in Oak Park, to the north of the city. A lot of families later moved to West Bloomfield when they could afford the real estate. But we stayed in the same house we’ve always been in. It’s not surprising considering my mom doesn’t even know her way around downtown Detroit.
The streetlights all have rainbow orbs through the wet car window. I’d think we were in a winter wonderland if I didn’t already know what a dump it is under the snow.
“You go there ‘cause you’re strapped for cash? Aren’t you doing work-study?”
“What? Oh yeah. No, I just like stuff better when it’s free.”
He’s pulling into the bus station parking lot as he says
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