My parents have a son. He was conceived 3 months after I was born. My mother always says he is proof condoms don’t work.
He arrived 375 days after I did. He was late. He always is.
He is incredibly mean. He is agoraphobic. He is very uncomfortable with himself.
I blame my mother.
She was horribly embarrassed to be pregnant again so soon after I was born that they didn’t tell anyone she was pregnant until she was almost due. (At least, this is the story she tells me.) People thought she just hadn’t lost her baby weight from me. (Plus, she has always been a bit on the heavier side.)
I was a joy. I was the first grandchild on my mother’s side of the family. I was treasured. I reaped all the attention.
My brother sat in a car seat a lot, his bottle propped.
He hates me.
I am tired of trying.
We aren’t friends, I never talk to him, and I never see him.