Brian merely lifts the carton to his mouth, proceeding to drink straight out of it. Grimacing, I stomp over to him and snatch it away, causing juice to spill on his chest.
“What did you do that for?” he growls, sitting up to wipe at the stain on his t-shirt.
I give him my back, snarling over my shoulder. “Mom and Dad might let you get away with that shit, but in my home, use a glass.”
God, my brother pisses me off more often than not. I just don’t understand him. Our parents are hard workers. Dad has a career in the steel mills where he continues to work, and Mom was a cashier in a grocery store. Growing up, they were good role models for needing to strive for success. They impacted me. I applied my energy to college, then to a fulfilling career. My younger sister, Laney, is in her final year of college at Pitt and will be moving on to a master’s program after.
But Brian never had any ambition to do anything. He’s held odd jobs here and there. For the last three years, he’s lived in my parents’ basement completely unemployed.
At least, legitimate employment.
He makes money somehow. I don’t want to know the details, because it would just cause more disappointment within me.
Brian follows me into the kitchen, then goes to my cupboard where he knows I keep the glasses. He takes one out, nabs the carton from my hand before I can put it back in the fridge, and pours a glass, holding it out to me first. “You want one?”
I shake my head. “Coffee first. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this surprising and unannounced visit?”
My pointed reminder that it was rude to walk in without me expecting him makes me wonder what would have happened had Brian come just half an hour before. He would have found Cage and me in bed.
I snicker again.
“What’s so funny?” he inquires… again.
Shaking my head, I move to my Keurig and start a cup brewing. Turning to face Brian, I lean against my counter and cross my arms over my chest. “So, what’s up?”
Brian mimics my action, leaning against the opposite counter in my small, u-shaped kitchen. “You know Mom and Dad’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary is coming up in January, right? I was thinking us kids should plan something special for them. I had some ideas and wanted to run them by you. I know how busy you and Laney are, so I could run point on handling everything.”
No stopping it. My heart melts, and it reminds me that despite my brother’s many faults, he is truly one of the most caring and considerate people I know. He would, of course, be the sibling who would think forward to doing something special. He might not have a pot to piss in, but what he can’t offer in the way of money, he would make up for with effort.
While I like to scold him inside my head for still living with my parents and eating their food, he admittedly helps them take good care of the house. He’s a handy guy and does repairs. Takes the garbage to the curb and cleans up the kitchen each night after Mom makes dinner. He helps clean the house and runs errands. Pretty much anything my parents ask of him, he does, and so I have to learn to have more grace where he’s concerned. I need to love him for his strengths and forgive his weaknesses.
“I think that’s a great idea, Bri,” I say, the affection evident in my tone. “How about me, you, and Laney get together and talk about it? I’m running late for work, so now isn’t the greatest time.”
“Sure,” he replies easily, tipping the glass of orange juice back and draining it. I turn toward the Keurig to grab my cup of coffee, but I freeze halfway to the fridge when Brian says in a tentative voice. “Just one more thing.”
I shift to face him, my entire body tensing with what I know is coming.
“Can I borrow some money?” he asks, shame-faced.
“What for?” I ask through gritted teeth. This isn’t the first time he’s requested money from me, and I doubt it will be the last.
“I’ve got some money coming in for a job I did, but I owe another guy some and I’m short. I’ll be able to pay you back by the end of next week.”
“How much?” I ask, hating myself for asking. I should just say no.
“Two hundred,” he murmurs, casting his eyes down.
My anger gets the better of me, even as I put my coffee down and move toward my purse on the counter. I grab my checkbook out. As I write him out a check, I demand, “When are you going to grow up, Brian?”