Strangers

Brother mine.

                I still remember the exact moment I realised how important you were to me. The moment I thought to myself “This guy. This human being has my back.” We had differences, but that didn’t affect us at all. We were In and out of trouble together, the antics and the humour. I prided myself on you; I would brag to people about your accomplishments before mine own. There was never a disagreement between us. You knew me, I knew you. When we needed to be, we could be two halves of one person. More than just a good cop bad cop, we could do anything together. We were Invincible.  

 

                When everything that had brought us together began to crumble, you assured me we’d be fine. Nothing would change between us, because whilst those things brought us together, you said our brotherhood was inevitable. You weren’t one for soaring speeches, that was my forte. For you to say something like that showed me just how important I was. I missed you, but it was bound to happen. Distance would obviously change things. When things really got bad, I called you up. Both because I needed you, and because it was a sign of respect for you. I knew what it would mean for you and the others. I wanted you to be informed as early as possible. Once more, I was assured we’d be fine.

                I believed that Lie with every fibre of my being. Looking back, I don’t know if it was a genuine belief, or because I couldn’t entertain the alternative. I defended you when others pointed out the flaring holes in your excuses. I began making more and more elaborate excuses for you. It was important to me that these people believed in you like I did. If they didn’t, they’d utter things aloud that I wasn’t ever going to be okay hearing. You didn’t even make excuses. I think I’d hate it all less if you’d at least tried. Maybe that’s because I was so easily fooled. Months with no contact, me sending messages and always believing that maybe you just had bad internet, as was a common thing back in the day with you. Maybe you’d broken your phone again. Classic you.

                When I did hear from you, it was that phone call right before I was due to see you again for the first time in a year. “You know me, I don’t like dragging things out or being around the bush. I tell it like it is.” Your exact words. At the time, I nodded to myself. That is like you. I felt guilty for doubting you. For the next three days, you greeted me like an old friend. Nothing had changed. I could have cried I was so relieved. I was Hopeful.

                That was almost a year ago. A month ago, I was talking about you. It was 4am, the time of the sleepless and the loveless. The poets and the writers. It was the usual story, one of our jokes that still made me smile, and then I stopped. I choked up. I never realised before, but I didn’t just miss you. I was furious with you. I could barely tell myself what was happening and then I was crying. At four am, into the arms of someone who has never met you.

                You’d left me alone when you swore you never would. You knew I needed you, and you should have been there, but you weren’t. You didn’t even give me an excuse. How hard was it t just send one message, a text or even a call to say, “I know it’s tough, but things are hard, you understand?” It wasn’t that you rather do these things face to face, it was because you were a coward. You are a coward. You were my brother and you couldn’t even offer me the decency of an actual good bye. You were more than a friend, you were a family that was closer than blood. I can’t even call you a stranger, because at least then I’d have the hope of getting to know you.

F**k you.