brother number two, part one.
In the twenty years since my move west, brother number two divorced, remarried and had estranged, on again/off again relationships with his kids. But it's true, someone actually married him, again.
Over the years I'd get reports from my dad and over the years the reports seemed to indicate a sudden bit of evolution, growth, coming around. I was unconvinced but my dad persisted hope.
In the twenty years there were two occasions that I would cross paths with the brothers, both some kind of milestone in my father's aging. In number two, I saw a brother who still sat like a lump on a log waiting to be waited on by his new wife, but who in conversation, I had to concede, seemed to be coming around some. He was less angry, he was more thoughtful, he was more practical, and he was easier to be with. He didn't suck the life out of the room with his mere existence, indeed was rather congenial. He lacks the sardonic, smart humor that marked so beautifully brother number one and also my father, but he was generous with laughter; you'd enjoy engaging him because he was so easy to laugh at everything you said.
My father credited this to wife number three, and indeed, it seemed the case by all appearances. There was hope for him yet, and we were all relived by his bettered circumstances.
When brother number one died, number two said one night, I'm the oldest now. It meant something to him, he wore it like a badge of honor. It was his role to step into.
So that when I put in my two weeks notice here and he offered the basement of their house as an option, I saw no reason not to. Our family had been so long decimated, as had been each of us in turn, and as the booby prize its greatest member died. I saw all this as something terrible and possible coming together and I was all in.
I left Los Angeles to return to my family.
chapter 3.