A/N: Hope that those of you who have started schoolrecently are surviving.

--My Brother--

You’d think someone wouldn’t remember something from when they were only five. Even someone who had a brilliant memory shouldn’t be able to, not something like this. And yet I do even though my ability to remember things is mediocre at best. I can barely even remember what I had for breakfast on most days. But on that morning of Thursday, June 17th 1988, I had pop tarts for breakfast.

This may seem insignificant but to me this meant that something just wasn’t right. My mom was one of those that believed in hot home cooked meals. No fast food, no making something in the microwave and no little handy store bought meals like pop tarts. In fact, I don’t even know why they were in the house. Of course, I didn’t suspect anything major really. If I thought about it now I just would have said my mom was pregnant again because when she was pregnant with my sister Aimee she couldn’t stand the smell of anything cooking. Not even pancakes or something. It was a real pain because if any of us tried to make something she’s vomit and become real hormonal. Those nine months were hell, especially for a four-year-old who didn’t really understand what was happening to her mommy. And it was even worse when Aimee was born dead. My mom always wanted a big family and here she only had two children. Of course, what I didn’t know then was that this was the third time it had happened – have her baby be born dead I mean. Supposedly I had brother named David and a sister named Julie.

After Aimee the doctors told her she couldn’t have any more. I would have thought she would have cried like hell and become majorly depressed. I know I would have. But instead she just concentrated on me and my older brother. She spoiled us rotten and was always trying to be like one of those television mothers. And she was happy I guess. My brother was smart, had a lot of friends, on the football team, and was always nice to me. And I was cute in the five-year-old sort of way. But then it all changed.

I didn’t eat the pop tarts right away. I actually liked the whole home cooked meal thing. Since my brother had come home from the summer camp where he was a councilor at he had gotten into the habit cooking me waffles for breakfast. And he could make the best waffles. I had gotten a chair to reach the toaster and put a pop tart in it. As it was cooking I asked my mom where my brother was. She then burst into tears and ran from the room. I went to find my dad and asked him the same thing. He got this solemn look on his face. He picked me up and put me in his lap and told me that my brother was at court. Me, being only five and naïve thought that he meant the basketball court. When I asked my dad if that’s what he meant he said no. And for some reason I still can’t get over is that I simply shrugged my shoulders and went to go eat my pop tarts. I didn’t even bother to ask when he was coming home. For if I had, I would have known that I wouldn’t be able to see my brother for a very, very long time.

My brother was at court that day. The type of court where there’s a judge who wears one of those weird white wigs. He was being charged with man-slaughter. I didn’t know this then but the camp my brother went to wasn’t supposed to end until July. It ended early because this camper there had died. The girl’s name was Jessica, Jessica Marsden. At five all I knew was that Jessica had died so these scary people took my brother from me. I remember crying, screaming, yelling, and saying that Jessica Marsden had ruined my life. Now I find it actually kind of ironic considering I was accusing someone who didn’t have a life of ruining mine.

Even though he wasn’t yet eighteen my brother was tried as an adult. And sometime during July of 1988 he was found guilty and sentenced to nine years with no parole. Nine years. Can you imagine nine freaking years? Think of your life. Then think of nine years. It’s almost a whole decade. Can you imagine losing nine years of your life, just like that? And me, losing touch with the one person who I knew better than any of my friends? Nine years with no contact because once he was sentenced my mother cut off all contact with him. Wouldn’t even write a letter to her own son. But I can’t really blame her, can I? Here it was, her perfect son going and getting accused of murder. Perhaps I wasn’t any better for I never tried to contact him either. Oh sure, there were those times I thought of calling him or writing but I knew better than to mention them in from of my mom. And anyway, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to call him. What would I say? Did you really kill her? Do you still love me even though we don’t know each other anymore? He was fifteen when she died, fifteen when he went into jail, fifteen when he was ripped from our family, and fifteen in my last memory of him.

Today it is the year 1998. Today is also my fifteenth birthday. My brother was released from jail not too long ago. He’s in California now, working at some company or something or other. I’m not too sure. I think he studied business in jail so it probably has something to do with that. I can’t believe that it was only a few days ago when my father told me that my brother had been released from jail. I didn’t know what to think. And then he told me he had booked a flight for me to California and that I could take it or leave it. And I took it.

So here I am on the plane, waiting for the seatbelt sign to go off. In a few moments I’m going to meet a man who’s twenty five. I have no idea what he’s going to look like. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him. I do not know if he killed that girl, that Jessica Marsden. I do not know if he can forgive me for not ever confronting him in the past ten years. I do not know if I can forgive him for disappearing on me. But I know that this man is my brother, my flesh and blood. I know that at some point he meant the world to me. And I know that I love him, and somehow, in these crazy screwed up circumstances I’m going to begin to finally know my brother.

Thank you for reading.

Comments welcome.