I remember the day I first laid my eyes on my younger brother Jonas. He was the cutest thing alive. As much tension as there was in our home. It didn’t stop me from loving Jonas.
I stood in the living room with my father and my step mom singing happy birthday to Jonas. He turned ten.
There was a teal and gold colored cake with candles flickering as we sang to him.
He smiled weakly. I guess he was getting to that stage where the happy birthday song was fast becoming cliche.
I had a huge present wrapped up, and I handed it to him after the song. He gave me a tight hug, not wanting to let go. I couldn’t believe he had grown so big and smart. I kissed his head and let go of his embrace.
My mom would have hated this moment. She didn't hate Jonas. She hated his mom. She hated the fact that his mom wrecked her marriage. Maybe she hated Jonas because he was the male child she could not give my father. She tried everything in her power to make me hate Jonas, but I couldn't. He was the sibling I didn't have. Evertyime I saw him, it made me yearn for one.
“So how have things been with you?” my father asked as we sat out in the backyard patio facing the swimming pool.
“Great I guess, classes are good, my room mates are also good,” I responded.
