Words Your Father Never Told You. Part 10.

“Cass?” Alice waved her free hand in front of my face, and my hand jutted out from under my chin and caused me to almost face plant straight down onto the hard wooden table.
I stood up and began to rummage through my purse, in search of any sort of currency. What are the chances I would actually pull Euros’ out of my purse? “Let’s go.” I pushed my crinkled American bills on the table, and walked towards the door.

When I got home, the house was horribly empty, as usual. I had wished for more siblings, considering, at a younger age my brother Joe had left my family for California.

“You’re a freak!” my dad yelled to my brother one night.
“Oh my.” my mother muttered after my dads outburst.
Luci, who happened to be over at the time, said nothing, and Joe just walked around the corner and up the stairs. As he passed Luci and I, sitting on the bottom step, I noticed he had a smile on his face. Once he reached the top step he let out a sigh and a casual laugh. Not the type of reaction you think he should have to my parents harsh words.
Ever since that night my father never looked at Joe the same. I am pretty sure they never made eye contact. My mother on the other hand was over catering the situation. She is constantly correcting herself to make every word out of her mouth more politically correct. Not to mention, I guess she feels the need to smother him and make him feel even more loved.
My brother is gay, not dieing, but my parents treated him like he has some sort of AIDS you don’t get from being a fag (not politically correct, but what else can I say?). My dad saw him as an outsider, my mother pitied him. Luci, who pretended it never happened until recently, took no position, and as for me, I knew it from the day I caught him sneaking in my room to borrow some pants.
I think I am the only person that treated him the same way. I still think of him as my funny eccentric older brother. But as I said, my dad and mother and I treated. Because, as my father says now a days, I never had a brother. And never will again.

As I walked the barren halls of my house, I became clearly aware that I had only blocked Joe out of my life because my parents had ordered me to. And like a silly young fool, I listened. Listening wasn’t my strong feature today, or many days past, so I picked up the hall phone and dialed the last number in the family phone book, even though our last name was Brass, and pressed the send button.