I went to visit my brother for supper yesterday bringing homemade chocolate chip cookies (his request), a new bottle of whisky (Toki), and the t-shirt he had left at my apartment back in February when it had gotten soaked with sweat and he’d taken it off to dry. Scout wasn’t too pleased that he’d had to stay home and miss the get-together, but he forgave me when I got home later that night and set out a delicious supper for him.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I went to see Miss Pearl as soon as I got there, who was snoozing on top of the bed instead of hiding under it, and who was just as pleased to see me as I was to see her.
My brother made a very tasty roast with mini potatoes as a side and we sampled a range of whiskies while discussing his upcoming wedding, and how we each felt very at home in our new jobs, all the while listening to a bunch of his records (too many to remember all of them properly, but to give a general sense of what was playing, we started with a Led Zeppelin record and later switched to one by Gordon Lightfoot).
He brought up the DNA results we got earlier this year as well (40% French, then English, Scottish, Germanic, and Irish, in descending order), and we ended up both agreeing that despite living in Ontario, we both identify not as Franco-Ontarien, but as part-Quebecois due to the dialect and culture that we grew up with. Of course I experienced selective mutism for almost all of my childhood and part of my adulthood where speaking in French was concerned, but my brother didn’t have that issue, and I’m slowly recovering my communication skills in part thanks to my new job. He lamented the fact that his kid(s) wouldn’t get to grow up visiting a family farm the way we did, and I reminded him that they’d get to have new traditions (like visiting a cottage) — and assured him that I look forward to being a Weird Aunt in the future.
Inevitably we strayed into more serious topics (I educated him on on the genocide unfolding in Gaza), and he got me to open up about a few personal things I hadn’t yet told him, offering both emotional support and advice that came very clearly from the heart.
He made me a latte as the night wore on, and then we had a bit of a laugh recalling the time our parents had discovered my brother smoking weed and the absolute meltdown that had ensued in the house. He looked over at me with a bit of wince and a chuckle, held out his fist for a fist bump and said, “thanks for the assist, sis.” This was referring to how I had educated our mother at the time on all the latest research about how weed was said to have the most benefits with fewest side effects of all the drugs my brother could have chosen to indulge in. Because my brother had been absolutely baked outta his mind when he’d been “discovered” that evening and hadn’t been able to advocate for himself. I was annoyed with him for causing such upheaval in the house… but I was even more annoyed at how illogical and disproportionate the crying and yelling itself was, considering the fact that weed is relatively safe. And now that it’s entirely legal, the whole drama has grown even funnier in memory.
I also explained to him that throughout my childhood, I was terrified of flushing the toilet because of a scary flushing incident (air in the pipes one day caused water to gurgle and spew upwards after I flushed) when I was about 5 or 6 — which he hadn’t known about. Obviously. Back then I definitely didn’t go around telling people that I had flushing-phobia and imagined the toilet roaring to life and gobbling me up as a child! He didn’t laugh, he just stared in disbelief and raised his eyebrow as I described my old process: close the toilet lid, wash hands, unlock the door, open the door wide, shut off the light, flush the toilet and — DASH AWAY!! Yeah… that’s not an exaggeration lol. I did that routine for years until I became a teenager and finally conquered the irrational fear.
My brother and I are two incredibly different people, but as I always say, he truly is a good man. Surprisingly old school and crotchety in some respects lol, but a good man. I’ll never forget that when we were kids one year, he insisted to our parents on using some of the money he’d saved to buy me a birthday cake. Considering that it was during a year where I had experienced a lot of upheaval in friendships at home and at school, it had meant a lot. Despite being the older sibling, I’d been the one tagging along with him and his friends, and they’d actually welcomed me. We’d even willingly shared a bedroom and a bunk bed in middle school (my bedroom had sat abandoned), spending our free time playing a GameCube we’d bought together and then a PS2 on a tiny TV in his (our) room. There had been a lot of Sonic Adventure 2 Battle missions, a LOT of Smash Bros Melee and Soul Calibur II tournaments, and countless Gauntlet Dark Legacy campaigns. I used to read him books before going to bed; he’d look down at me from the top bunk, where I sat in his computer chair, doing the voices to whatever book I was reading, my feet propped up on the mattress in my bottom bunk. We used to lie in each of our bunks and play Gameboy too, usually Pokémon Silver/Crystal or YuGiOh. We’d started out having to share a single Gameboy Colour and a single copy of Pokémon Silver–imagine having to negotiate who got to play when, which starter to choose (we agreed on Cyndaquil the first time, but I stuck with Totodile for every playthrough after that), and which Pokémon to raise to create our main questing/gym parties! Thankfully, a year or two later, we had acquired a Gameboy Advance as well. It was only two to three years we shared a bunk bed, but those were some of my favourite childhood memories — and considering the things I had gone through around that age, I think it meant more to me than it had to him. Even after I moved back into my own room, I still visited his room in order to play video games. I’m grateful that kid welcomed me into his space, his friendships, and his life like that during those years. We grew very distant as teenagers and young adults… but we’re making up for it now.
I could really go for a Gauntlet Dark Legacy campaign again.
Just for old times’ sake.
(I always mained as the early-unlockable sorceress-style character medusa! My brother mained as the warrior or jester, and his best friend who often joined us mained as the wizard — best augments were the phoenix familiar and being turned into Pojo the fireball-spewing chicken, obviously).