The Pact

When I was a kid, I almost killed my older brother.

Now, it could be that the only reason for me to believe this is because of the inaccurate nature of memories, especially when the events happened so many years ago and are clouded by the judgment and the ideals of older age, but I almost fucking killed my older brother when I was a little kid.

The details of such horrific day are less important now than back then. Today, we can actually laugh at the terrible deed whenever it comes up in conversation and the story has a certain side to it that is endearing, or tender, or even almost sickeningly cute.

But, the most important thing today is that my older brother is alive, in spite of the fact that through my childhood there were so many frustrating days when I wished I was an only child, and that I wouldn’t have to share my ice cream or my burger or my toys, or that all the Christmas presents would be just for me.

I still remember the dread that I felt whenever I’d made my decision, only to find out that my brother had picked something better and now I wanted that and nothing else.

The day that I drove a metallic spike into my brother’s forehead a lot of things changed.

The first thing that changed was the ban on my proximity to pointy metallic objects, mostly if I could pick them up and fling them at someone, that someone being the person I found to be the most corrosive guy in the entire world; the person who could make me mad in two seconds flat, the person who would do it because he thought I looked cute when my face was red and my eyes were glassy and my fists shook uncontrollably.

The second thing that changed that day was something that I wouldn’t understand until many years later. Somewhere in my immature subconscious, a frantic search for control of my temper began. A search for learning how to not fly off the handle when my brother provoked me, a search that would lead me to become the much calmer version of myself that I am today.

But the main thing that changed the day I hit my brother right between the eyes with the stainless steel model of a blue mirage was the pact.

That day, an unspoken pact was made; and to this day, the pact still runs through our veins and is present in every conversation, in every phone call, in every email… It is the pact that we would be brothers.

That we would look after one another, that no matter how horrible the world could turn out to be, we would protect each other from harm.

The pact that we would maintain the secrets secret and that we would cover for each other whenever there was a party, or a girlfriend, or a fight, or too much to drink, or not enough to eat, or too much worry, or too little money.

And we became brothers, and we did so many things together, we played, we laughed, we broke stuff, we glued things together, we got ourselves into and out of trouble.

And each and every time we did any of these things the bond that was created by the pact only grew stronger.

We lived amazing adventures when my brother used his unbelievable motor skills to create monsters and robots and spaceships that were beyond my imagination, and we had to save the day and rescue the princess, and in that bond, in that pact, the younger years of my life blew by as a soft breeze of warm memories and lazy afternoons.

The pact was there when I needed my brother the most, when the darkest moments of my life came about and he was there caring for me in silence, watching over me from a place where he knew I wouldn’t notice.

And with pretexts and with sleigh of hand he followed me for half a country just so he could make sure that no harm would come to me, just so that he could keep the pact that made us brothers.

Today my older brother is a dad, and my nieces are the most beautiful things in the world, and I don’t say this because they are my nieces, I mean, I’ve seen some ugly babies and I never had any reservations as to voicing my opinion about them.

But my brother’s daughters are a light in my heart, a piece of my soul, the smile on my mind, and more than anything else, they are the purpose by which my bro gets up every morning and is the happiness when he comes home.

One day, not too long ago and after a rather eventful day of play with the girls I asked my brother if he ever regretted having two kids instead of one. His answer was that naturally two was the perfect number.

When I asked him what he meant by naturally he said: “Because the best memories of my childhood always come in the form of us playing, or fighting, or simply having a good time. I can’t imagine my life without my brother, and I want my daughters to have the opportunity to experience that as well.”

When I was a kid, I almost killed my older brother. What a loss for this world it would have been.