“Oh, he’s this guy. No, no. That’s not right. He’s not just some guy. He’s the best guy. So sweet and so—”
“Christ on a cross. I should have known.” Everett sighs loudly and rolls his eyes.
“Don’t be a dick, Everett. It doesn’t become you.”
“Quite the contrary, kid. Being a dick kind of defines me.” He smiles his perfect smile.
“Fair enough. But don’t be a dick to me. I like this whole cookie and blanket and concern thing you’ve started here.”
“Fine. I’ll be a good big brother. Who’s this Simon character, and how soon do I need to throat-punch him?”
“No throat punching will be necessary. He’s this guy I work with. We went out, and we—”
Ev’s voice cuts me off. “PG version, or I’m leaving, and I’m taking this blanket and the last mini cheesecake with me.” He holds it just beyond my reach.
“Good Lord, Ev, I was about to say we hit it off.”
“Uh huh.”
“Anyway, the thing is, he’s younger than I am. A lot younger.”
“Is he out of high school? Cause that shit’s messed up.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course. He’s twenty-five.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“You sound like Molly! The issue is I’m ten years older.”
“Who the hell is Molly? Nevermind. And look, you won’t be thirty-five for weeks. You’ve got damn near a month before you hit the ten year mark.”
“Thanks,” I deadpan. “Still, I’m almost ten years older, and mother has been texting me disturbing facts about my waning fertility and…”
“What the hell? My God, Elaine. Block her fucking number.”
“She’s our mother, Everett.”
“I don’t care. That’s fucking wrong.”
“Yes, well. It is. But still, he’s young, and I’m not, and I called the whole thing off, but he’s wonderful, and I’ve hurt him, and…”
“Stop. Stop right there before the tears come back. Listen, kid, I’ve spent the better part of the past ten years with a cold-hearted bitch. I know of what I speak. I stayed with Victoria for all the wrong reasons. For that matter, I got with her in the first place for all the wrong reasons. My advice, for what it’s worth, is this: If he’s good to you, and he’s well past the age of reason, dive right in, and don’t look back.”
“It’s not that simple, Ev.”
“It probably is. Men are not that complicated. Trust me on this.”
“No, seriously, after the last time we… uh, talked…” at my euphemism, my brother winces visibly, “he was really pissed. And hurt. And he has every right to never speak to me again.”
“Elaine, Elaine, Elaine…” he shakes his head, and his hair falls across his forehead. There are streaks of gray in his formerly jet-black hair, and I like it. I hope I gray as gracefully. You know, because my fifty cats will really care about my hair color…
“Are you even listening to my sage, brotherly advice?”
“Nope. Not really. I was looking ahead to my future and hoping I’ve put enough into savings to feed all those cats I’ll surely have.”
“Stop. No crazy cat lady talk. But speaking of cats, is Satan’s Minion still alive?”
“You mean Jimmy? Of course he is.”
“Damn. I loathe that cat almost as much as he despises me. But anyway, focus. I’ve got wisdom to impart. You say he hates you and maybe he does. But you’ve never been a lovesick guy, E, and I have. And I’m telling you, he probably doesn’t hate you. He’s pissed, sure. And it sounds like an apology on your part is in order. But if he’s the one, you can’t give up this easily, kid. Don’t stalk him or anything, but don’t just let him walk away, either.”
And with those parting words, he kisses my forehead, hands me the last mini-cheesecake, and walks back inside.
So, yeah. My Thanksgiving sucks. And my mother is a hag. And my ex’s new wife just had a baby and is still skinnier than I’ll ever be.
But my brother is pretty awesome.
