This is still the same day of Brandon coming home from France being an exchange student for the last year. It is now from the prospective of his younger brother, Luke.
To keep nifty free, please donate at, donate.nifty.org Chapter 3 Luke's POV: Day1
Brandon is coming home today and Mom wants me to go with the family to pick him up at the airport. It's been a year since he went to France as a foreign exchange student. For the last few years, we pretty much just hated each other. We did our own thing with our own friends and pretty much kept out of each other's way.
It hadn't always been like that. When he went into junior high, I wasn't cool enough to hang out with or be seen with. Before that, we were close and did everything together. Then one day, he didn't like me. What did I do? I just wanted to spend time with my best friend and brother. I didn't want to give up, so I tried to create opportunities that we would be together. Maybe he'd remember that we had some good times. I wanted to know what he was up to so I would go through his stuff and find out what he was interested in. That way if he liked to watch a certain show or sport, I would show interest in the same thing. Maybe he'd like to be around me more.
"Luke, honey?" My mom calls to me. "Are you sure you won't go to the airport with us?"
I kinda do. I haven't seen him in a whole year. I've been hurt too many times by Brandon that I don't want to put myself in the situation to be hurt again.
"Just go without me Mom. I want to enjoy a couple more hours without him being here. Besides, I doubt that he wants to see me anymore than I want to see him."
Mom looks disappointed. "I really wish my two sons would get along. It breaks my heart to see you two act this way. I just don't understand it."
My parents and sister Chrissy get into the car and leave. I'm left there with my thoughts. All I ever wanted, was for Brandon to like me again. It seamed the harder I tried to spend time or be near him, the more he disliked me. One day it came to a head and he hurt me so bad that I hated him. I didn't really hate him, but I was so upset with him that I told him I did.
It was one day when a girl came over, named Jennifer, and he asked her if she wanted to go bowling. This was my chance. I love to bowl, I know Brandon really likes to bowl and if I went with them, maybe we would have a really good time. I worked my charm on Jennifer because I knew that Brandon never would have invited me. I had a really great time, and I think Jennifer did too. She was really sweet and seamed to like me. Brandon wasn't even treating me bad. Maybe it would work this time. Little did I know what was coming.
I'm getting a little emotional right now thinking of this. When we got home, he just laid into me. He called me a worthless piece of shit. That hit me like a ton of bricks. My own brother whom I have loved all my life. I never felt that kind of hurt. He didn't stop there. He told me to stay out of his life and never talk or look at him again.
Tears are running down my cheeks just thinking about this.
Then he told me that he wished that I was never born. Meaning he didn't want me for a brother. I think that hurt the most. Why? I never understood what I could have possibly done to have him hate me so much. So with tears running down my face, I yelled at him that I hated him. I wanted him to feel the hurt I was feeling. I don't think he even cared. I think that I really did hate him at that moment. I decided that from then on, he would never hurt me like that again. I would ignore him whenever I could. When I did have to be with him or talk to him, he'd get the cold shoulder from me.
I had my friends to hang out with and have fun with. I had turned 13 and was in junior high and I didn't need him. Later, I became best friends with Grayson. He lived down the street from me. He didn't have any brothers and he was just fine. When Brandon got excepted to be a foreign exchange student his senior year, I was thrilled. I was going to be a freshman and wasn't looking forward to being at the same school as him. He was going to be gone a year and when he comes back, maybe he'll go away to college.
Deep down I was also sad. I had hoped just a little that when I became a teenager, I would be cool enough to hang out with again. No way was I going to make the first move. I was hurt for a long time. I wasn't going to put myself in that position to be hurt again. But it never happened. He never even said that he was sorry. I guess he got his wish.
This last year, started out great without him here. Then I started to miss him. It was easier just to hate him. So it's going to be up to him if he wants me in his life or not when he comes home.
They should be coming home in about a half hour. I think I'll work on my jump shot while I wait. Since I have grown taller lately, it's so much easier to make baskets. Maybe I might even go out for the basketball team this year when school starts again.
I see them drive up, but I'm concentrating on my free throws. Maybe dad will see how good I am getting and will give me props. Dad did tell me "Good job, Sport" when he passed by with the suitcases. Dad is always encouraging me. I see Brandon is a little slow at getting out of the car. I pretend not to care. He comes up to me and says something like nice basket', and mentions that I have grown and surprises me with a quick hug. I don't know how to react, so I don't. Maybe he has changed. He sure seemed different. Again, I'm still gun shy' with my emotions with him.
I shoot a few more baskets and then go inside. Mom makes me a sandwich. Some kind of meat and cheese but I know it's not tuna. That stuff is so nasty. I usually run from the room if someone is eating one. Brandon hates it as much as I do. I hope they fed him tuna in France. Ha Ha! I wonder if he ate slugs, snails or other gross things. Chrissy starts to watch a Disney movie on TV and wants me to watch it with her. It's one of the High School Musical movies, but I don't know which one.
I fall asleep half way through the movie and wake up when I can smell my mom's fried chicken. Her's is the best. She says, "Good, you're awake. Go wake up your brother and tell him that dinner is almost ready."
I said whining, "Do I have to?"
"No." Mom said. "You don't have to get him up, and you also don't have to eat fried chicken either. I can make up a nice bowl of oatmeal for you."
I said, "Fine! I'll do it."
"Only if you want to honey. It's totally your choice."
Mom is funny that way. She never tells me that I have to do something, she just says what will happen if I don't. She lets me choose. One time when she asked me to do the dishes and I cut to the chase. "What will happen if I don't?" She smiled and said, "Oh, nothing will happen." I said, "Really?" She said, "Sure....nothing will happen. Computer won't happen. Cell phone won't happen. Video games won't"... I cut her off "Okay, okay. I'll do the dishes. Gall!!" "Only if you want to Honey. I'd appreciate it." She doesn't yell or get mad and I choose to do what she wants. No fighting. There is no reason to argue with her; she's always gonna win.
Then there's Dad. If I want to do something and I ask him if I can, I have to give him 5 minutes to answer me. If I ask again before the 5 minutes, he'll say, "I haven't had enough time to decide. But since you wanted me to hurry with my answer, then it's a, No!" If I protest or ask him again even after 5 more minutes, he'll ignore me. After all, he already answered me, and the decision was made. Why should he tell me `no' again. There's no compromising, begging or yelling. It doesn't change. If he is being really nice he'll say, "Oh, I haven't made my mind up yet. Do you want an answer right now? If you do, I'll give you one." I just say, "Oh no. Take your time." But if it's been 5 minutes, I can ask again because he probably forgot I asked him something.
One of my friends, Sam, told me that he gets so mad at his parents sometimes and they got into nasty arguments, and he usually gets grounded or extra chores for being rude. He then asked me how I got along with the `rents. I said, "My parents never get made at me and I do what I want. If I don't want to do it, then I don't have to." At this point he has his mouth open catching flies. "I'm not lying." (technically) "I love my parents and we get along great. Now my brother, Brandon? That's another story. Then I give him an ear full about Brandon.
So yeah. I go to wake up Brandon and I "want" to. When I get to "my" room, I notice he is on "my" bed and just in his underwear too. I purposely moved the room around so that when he came home he'd see who's room it actually was. I wasn't the same kid that I was when he left. I'm older and bigger than I was and I'm not going to be pushed around by him. So my first words out of my mouth shows I can handle myself. I make sure my voice is good and low. Puberty really changed me.
I say loud enough to wake him up without having to touch him. "Hey Stupid! Yo, Estupido!" I learned some Spanish while he was learning French, so I could hold my own if he called me something in French. I continue once I see he can hear me. "Mom said to get up! It's time for dinner. And you're in my bed, moron!"
I don't wait for a response and walk out. I'm not really mad at him but I want him to know that it's not going to be like before. We had a year to think or whatever. I had always wished we could be brothers again. I wished he had never changed and we would've been close all along. He really hurt me a few years ago. I never want to be hurt like that again. So, I just have to be tough on him until I know if he is the same butt hole that left last year.
I sit at the table and we are waiting for him. Then he comes in and Dad comments on his dinner attire. He is just in his underwear and they aren't even boxers. They must be a French brand; American underwear isn't that revealing. He's never done that before. He didn't even like to change his pants in our room if I was in there. He'd always turn away from me or wait for me to leave. Anyway, he says that it was common in French families to be comfortable with their bodies. He sees me roll my eyes and says that us Americans (like he isn't one) get so uptight about modesty. Dad then asks him if he had attended any nude beaches there. Oh my gosh! He turned about 3 shades of red. Busted! So I say, "Oh my gosh! You did!!" Ha ha. He didn't answer. I liked watching him sweat a little.
Brandon changed the subject and was oohing over Mom's chicken. She did make great chicken. He said that it was nice to not have the feet still attached to the drumstick. What did I hear? Then he starts talking to me like we're buds now and tells me that they love to eat the feet. I'm grossed out thinking of chickens walking around in their own poop and mud. Then gnawing on the bottom of the foot like it's candy. Gross!! Eww. I think I'm going to barf. Then he tells me that his French brother uses one of those gross chicken toenails to pick his teeth. I start retching and I run for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet. Mom comes in to help me. After I'm done, I wash my face and Mom convinces me to return to the table. Once there, Brandon looks at me and that dirt bag lifts his fingernail to his teeth mimicking that French kid. I start running again to the bathroom hoping I had already tossed all my cookies before because I wasn't going to make it. I ended up only getting a little on my shirt. I felt horrible. My stomach just ached. I went into my bedroom and just laid down on my bed. I let my guard down and Brandon got the best of me again. Dammit!!!
Not long after that, Brandon comes into my room and sits across from me on the other bed. I am sure he is going to make fun of me, and the way I feel right now; I don't care. But he doesn't. He's actually not being rude to me, telling me about the time he first ate chicken with the feet still on the leg. He said that he too was grossed out, but he didn't make it to the bathroom. He barfed all over himself. I can't help to laugh imagining what that looked like. It hurt to laugh, but I couldn't help it. Then he tells me how his French mom made him get into the shower to clean up the barf and made him strip naked in front of her. I remember how hung up he was on modesty here, that he must've really been embarrassed to the core. I'm laughing so hard that I ask him to stop. I'm holding my stomach to ease the pain. He keeps telling me the story and laughing too.
Then he says that she starts to bathe him in front of his French brothers making sure his junk is clean too. I beg him to stop. I try to plug my ears and hold my stomach at the same time. I can't stop laughing and he continues. Like really there is more. He tells me that he then chubs up while she is cleaning the family jewels and turns just in time to jizz all over the bathroom wall. She rinses the wall, rewashes him down there, rinses him off again and dries him off from head to toe all while his French brothers are laughing their heads off. I can't believe this really happened. I also can't believe he is actually even telling me this. Man, he did have it 10 times worse than me. I tell him if Mom had done that to me, I would have died. And she is my mom. I catch my breath, though suffering immensely in my stomach.
Then Brandon says, "So at that point, all modesty went out the window and there was no need to cover up. Everyone has seen everything in every state. So I just walked out with what was left of my dignity and the boys followed me to the bedroom."
Then Mom calls Brandon to come do the dishes, so he leaves. It's going to take time for me to recover from this. I think I'll just stay right here and call it a night.
I'm just left with my thoughts. Brandon has really changed since he left. I bet he'd strip naked in front of me if he had to. I still haven't heard about the nude beach. I bet that is an interesting story. He's hasn't been mean since he got home. Sure he teased me a bit about the chicken foot, but it was funny teasing. I get that now. He did give me a little hug and didn't do anything back to me when I called him stupid and a moron. He didn't have to tell me this embarrassing story to make me feel better either. It's only been a few hours and maybe by tomorrow he'll be back to his pain in the keister self again. I'm sure he is suffering from jet lag. So I can't let my guard down, though I really hope he is a changed guy. I never did really hate him, but I had to act like it. He really was cruel to me for no reason. I never told anyone, but I cried for months.
I almost fall asleep but my bladder tells me that I need to take care of business first. My throat is a little dry. Barfing takes it out of you so I go to the kitchen to get some water. I hear voices and I look around the corner and see that Mom and Brandon are having a serious conversation, so I stop and listen.
He is telling her about his French brothers and how good they got along. They didn't just get along, but they loved each other and were best friends. The older brother, Andres would have his younger brother's back. He praised him and if necessary, comforted him. Andres would hug and kiss his brother often. He explained that there was nothing crude or gay about kissing a family member even a brother. It was an expression of brotherly love. Then Brandon really surprised me. He said that he wanted what they had. He longed to have a loving relationship with me. He wanted what they had. I think he really meant it too. Then he said the words that I thought the he would never say in a life time. "I love him, Mom. I really do." He was talking about me. I could feel he truly was sincere. He loves me. He really loves me. Tears start to fall down my cheeks, but I can't make a sound because I need to hear everything.
Brandon then tells Mom that he realizes that he was at fault. That I just wanted to spend time with him, but he didn't see it that way. He was so sorry for the way he treated me. He really hurt me and he understood that and wanted to make things right. He was really torn up about this. He was crying and said that he would do whatever it took to make it right. He said that he didn't deserve a brother like me and definitely wasn't worthy. I really felt bad for him. He was in agony about how he treated me. At this point I wanted his sorrow to end. I forgave him right then and there, and I wanted this too. I always did.
"Mom? How do I let him know how I feel about him? How do I gain his trust? Will he ever forgive me?"
I walk out of the hallway and let my presence be known. "Why don't you just ask him." I say.
He didn't know I was there. He was so shocked that he is just speechless. It was like he wanted to say 25 things all at the same time and couldn't say any of them. For me, I need to make sure about a few things. I asked him if he was sincere. He was 100 percent. He begged my forgiveness and would make it his life goal to make things right with me. He hugged me and I never felt such love from anyone ever as I did at that point. I was so happy. Then Mom joined us in a group hug. Dad walked in and didn't want to be left out and asked if he could jump in. If Chrissy wasn't playing with Melissa next door, she would have joined us too. I know she hated that Brandon and I didn't get along. I wish I could just stay in this group hug forever but the jet lag just hit Brandon hard. He got so tired and was weak in the knees. Dad and I had to practically carry him into our bedroom. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Maybe even right before.
Dad says that he is going to watch some TV and asked it I was coming. "Maybe in a little while Dad. There are a few things I need to do first." I said.
"Suit yourself, Bud. I'll save you a seat when you are ready."
I sit down on my bed. One thing Dad always let me do was to sit beside him. On the other side could be Chrissy or Mom or even sometimes, Brandon. If I walked into the living room and someone was on both sides of him, he wouldn't scoot someone away, I could sit on his lap. Sometimes I just liked to sit on his lap. He never told me that I was too big or too old. He always put his arm around me and I'd snuggle up to him. If he didn't put his around me within the first 15 seconds or so, I'd grab his arm and put it around me for him.
If he dropped me off at school in front of my friends, I was never embarrassed to give him a hug or say "I love you." One of my friends, Jeremy tried to make fun of me and I just accused him of being jealous. "I love my dad. I bet you wished your dad loved you." Jeremy was not expecting me to say that.
He shot back, "My dad loves me. Why wouldn't he?"
"I don't know" I said. "When he drops you off, it looks like you want to be as far away from him as you can. Maybe you don't like your dad and that's why he doesn't hug you."
Jeremy is squirming now. It's quite comical. "Just be here after school when he picks me up. I'll show you." Boy did I hit a nerve.
So after school, I'm waiting with Jeremy and our friends at the pick up area. Jeremy's dad shows up and Jeremy points for him to park and to come over. He is a little surprised but he does it. He comes over to us to see what's up.
His dad says, "Hey Son. What's going on?"
Jeremy says, "Nothing much." He then somewhat awkwardly hugs his dad. His dad looks really surprised like it was the last thing he expected, but likes the gesture and hugs him back.
Jeremy continues, "I just wanted to introduce you to some of my friends. So Luke, Grayson, Tony and Noah, this is my wonderful dad, Vance Marshal, that I was telling you about."
Mr. Marshal shakes our hands and I was first to speak, "It's such an honor to finally me the person that Jeremy admires so much. You must really be proud of him, sir."
Mr. Marshal was not expecting that. I'm sure he must be wondering what Jeremy did wrong and is sucking up to him. So I continue. "If this were me, my dad would wonder what I did wrong and would be very suspicious. The only thing Jeremy has done, is to show us that we don't need to be embarrassed to be seen with our parents. He really loves you, sir, and he is always talking about you. You should be really proud of him."
Mr. Marshal looks at his son, "Is this true, Son?" I can see that he is touched. Jeremy looks at his dad in the eyes, "I know that I have been a butt at times and try to act all grown up and act embarrassed to be seen with my daddy'. I didn't want people to think I was a sissy or something. But you know what? Screw em! I have two of the most supportive and loving parents in the World and I am proud to be their son."
This time, Jeremy isn't feeling awkward and hugs his dad lovingly. His dad hugs him back and kisses the top of his head.
I notice that my dad has just arrived and I say, "Oh look. My dad is here. I think I am going to go give him a big hug and tell him that I love him too. Thanks Jeremy for being someone I can look up to."
I run up to my dad and tell him to act surprised and I'd explain later. I give him a big hug and he tries to look surprised. I love you, Dad, and he kisses the top of my head and holds me for like 10 seconds."
He does this, and I look back at Jeremy and give him the thumbs up. I explain on the ride home what had happened that day. The really neat thing, is that my other friends were no longer embarrassed of their parents and would openly hug and/or kiss them when they parted. Later, Jeremy called me up and thanked me for what I had done. He and his dad were going to go camping for the first time in years that weekend and he was looking forward to it.
Brandon snorts in his sleep and I am brought back to reality. I look at Brandon sleeping peacefully on his bed. I get a warm feeling looking at him. I have my brother back. Why did we have to lose those years. I feel a little cheated, but am so grateful to have this chance to make up for lost time.
I get on my knees on the side of his bed so that I am close to him. I place my hand on his arm. "Brandon?" He doesn't move and other than that snort, hasn't moved a muscle since he laid down. I whisper to him, "I love you, Brandon". I can't remember the last time I said that to him. I try to give him a hug and hold him the best I can. He doesn't move. I stand and bend down and give him a kiss on the head.
I leave the room and find Dad watching a re-run of `Blue Bloods' in the living room. I slide up next to him and his arm immediately goes around my shoulder. I sink into the couch a little because I have grown and it's not as easy to cuddle up to Pops. He kisses the top of my head and asks, "Everything alright, Bub?"
"Everything's great, Dad. Umm... Have I told you lately that I love you? Because I really do."
He kisses me on top of my head again.
"Maybe not for a few hours, but you showed me just now when you sat down and snuggled up next to me. I love the words, but I really love the displays of affection. Do you know what I mean?"
I look at him. "I think so Dad. Every time we are driving around and you just put your hand on my shoulder or leg or you kiss the top of my head I feel loved. If you are busy but I need to talk to you, you stop and listen to me. I think you are telling me that I'm more important than work and that makes me feel loved. Also, you encourage me instead of yelling at me. I make mistakes and you let me make them, then you are there to help me pick up the pieces. You don't look down at me, but I look up to you."
We sit in silence for a couple of minutes just enjoying the moment. "Dad? I know that I am just 15, and I have seen a lot of teens as they get older, fight a lot with their parents. I've heard them say that they hated their mom or dad and could hardly wait to be able to move out. Some are even my age, Dad. I don't want that to ever happen to us. I can't ever remember a time when you called me a bad name, yelled at me or spanked me or anything. Are we weird?"
Dad laughs. "If you are saying that we don't act like everyone else, then yes, we are weird and I like it that way. I too have friends who have kids that drive them crazy. My friend, Hank has a 16 year old daughter and he says that all they do is fight. The only time they don't fight is when she gives him the silent treatment. So he just comes down on her harder and she rebels more. He was shocked when I told him that I never argue with my three kids. Luke, you are a part of me. Literally a part of me. I may not like my hand for dropping a dish or something, but I'm not going to spank it for doing so. A father that is hitting a child of his, it is like he is hitting himself. That's the way I see it anyway."
Dad shifts so he can talk easier with me. "It's like this Luke. When your mom and I got married and were going to start a family, we asked each other what kind of a parent we wanted our children to have. We don't get to choose what kids we get, but we do get to decide what kind of parents our kids get. So we made a list. You mother would ask me how I would have liked to be treated when I was a child. You see, Son, your grandfather was not a very nice man. He would treat me and my brothers and sisters badly. You never knew him, for he died when you were small. So I told your mom what I didn't want. I didn't want to feel like I was a burden. I didn't like to be called a piece of crap. He slapped my face when I just repeated something I had heard him say. He asked where I had heard such foul language, and I said that I heard it from him. I got slapped several times, told me that I was a liar, sent me to bed without diner and I was grounded with extra chores for a week!"
He stops and takes a deep breath. "Sorry Luke. It's not a nice memory. The point is that at that point I hated my Father. I never ever wanted my kids to think of me the way I felt about him. It would kill me if my kids hated me or thought I hated them."
"The list changed from what I didn't want as a child to what I did want as a child. I wanted to be wanted and loved. I wanted hugs and kisses. I wanted my dad to be my friend and spend time with me doing something I enjoyed. Then the list changed to `What kind of a Father do I want my child to have'. I wanted my child to have a Father that loved him and showed it too. He should be a person that was affectionate, and loving. Never lose his temper or yell. It is intimidating when someone twice your size is screaming at you. I wanted someone that finds a way to teach and guide him. To be the kind of person worthy of admiration. A mentor. An honest man. Someone who treats his mom well. I didn't have these things and wished I did."
Wow, I think. I never knew that Dad and Grandpa hated each other. Now I know why he never talks about him. I get a little tear in my eye. I felt empathy for Dad. He is such a good person and the best dad ever. I can't imagine his dad not being proud of him.
I get a little smirk on my face. "So what you are telling me, is that you are jealous of me? You wish you had a father like I do? But you can't because he's mine. It must be eating you up."
Dad laughs and ruffles up my hair. "You better believe I'm jealous of you. If my dad was like yours... that would be so cool."
A little more serious he says, "If I hadn't had a lousy father, it might not have mattered as much to me that you get the best one I could find. It may not have mattered so much to me. I have wondered what it would have been like if you had grandpa as a father. I try never to think that, because I love you so much, that if you were treated like this, I....I...."
Dad is really crying. This doesn't happen often. He take me into a hug and holds me there.
When he is able to speak, "I know I have made mistakes. But I have tried to be the best dad I can be. I didn't have a very good example to work with, and I don't use that as an excuse. I just do the best I can and hope you never hate me."
"Dad!" I say a little too loud and look at him as serious as I can. "I could never hate you. Never!! It may get tough because I've never been this old before. I am a teenager and I have read that these are the toughest years for a guy and with all the hormones I may turn into Mr. Hyde. Understand that no matter what I say or do while under the influence of puberty or girls, it is impossible for me to ever hate you. You can use my own words against me until I come back to reality. But really Dad. It could never happen."
I get another little smirk on my face. "I'm a realist, Dad. I know that we will have disagreements and I may not like what happens, but don't be surprised when I say, `Yeah, but you love me'. I get up and kiss his cheek and say, "Good Night Dad." I pat his leg and go to my room.
To my surprise, Brandon still hasn't moved. I bet that I could give him a `Sharpie Mustache' and he wouldn't know it. Oh well, I remove my shirt, shoes and socks and I crawl in bed. Today has been emotional draining on me. Though, it is the happiest I have been for as long as I can remember. Before I turn off the light, I look at my brother's face again.
"Good night, Brandon. I love you."
A few hours later I am awakened by Brandon. He is grunting and bouncing around. I turn on the lamp and it looks like he is having a nightmare. In between his grunts I hear him say, No, No and then Sorry. I'm sorry!"
I get out of bed and grab him on the shoulders and I am shaking him. "Brandon! Wake up! Wake up! It's just a dream."
He opens his eyes and I see fear in them. I try to assure him that it's okay and it was just a dream. He comes out of it, and says, "A dream? But it was so real."
Mom and Dad must have heard the commotion because they came running into the room. I told them that Brandon had a nightmare and that I had to wake him up. "It really messed with his head." I said. Then Brandon was holding his knees to his chin and rocking back and forth saying over and over, "It was so real".
When Brandon came back to reality, I wasn't surprised when Mom invited him to sleep with them. They would always let us sleep with them if we had a nightmare or weren't feeling well. Sometimes for no reason. Brandon jumps up and runs to their bed.
Mom gives me a hug and says, "Goodnight, Honey. Get your rest."
"Goodnight, Mom. I love you."
"You're so sweet. I love you, too Sweetie." Then she starts to leave.
Then Dad says, "What about me?"
I pat his shoulder and give him a wink. He says, "I love you too." He then kisses me on the forehead. They both leave and I go back to bed.