Untitled.

You’re born.

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A few years go by and you don’t remember much, but you know you have a mother and a father and a big brother.  He’s two years older than you and he knows everything about dinosaurs.  When you’re older, you see a video of you two together.  You’re a baby.  He’s gathering rocks and dumping them into your pink overalls.  You don’t even notice.  You’re mom is filming it and she’s laughing.

You get older, and so does he.  You think he’s cool, and you’ll think that for a long time.  You do a lot of things because you want to be like him.  Like play Pokémon.  He has a folder that he keeps his Pokémon cards in, and you let him keep yours there, too.  He challenges you to Pokémon wars, and he makes the rules.  Because you’re so young, you don’t realize that his rules aren’t fair.  He plays with his best friend, two against one.  You lose every time.  You cry, they laugh.  You never say ‘no’ when he asks you to play.  Because you want him to think you’re cool.

Your mom takes you to get a pack of Pokémon cards.  Blastoise, one of the best Pokémons, is in your pack.  Your brother and his friend offer to trade you both of their packs just for your one card.  You trade them, because you still think that quantity means more than quality.  You cry, they laugh.

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Every winter, your dad and brother put you in an empty Duraflame box and spin you around the living room.  Then they pin you down and tickle you until you almost start crying.  You’re happy.

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You and your brother make as many forts as possible, using every blanket and pillow you can get your hands on.  You’re convinced each one is of architectural value.  After you clean up, you take the two red sleeping bags and you sleep on your Mom’s floor together.

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You start playing sports, just like your big brother.  He plays tackle football and you go to all of his practices and games.   You think this is cool, because hardly anyone at school plays tackle football.  You try his helmet on.  He’s the best at sports, and you want to be the best, too.  Every day after school you play touch football in your backyard and basketball in your driveway.  You and your dad versus your brother and one of his friends.  It’s your favorite thing in the world because you’re better than his friend, so your dad laughs and you think he loves you even more because of it.  Your brother gets mad, and you’re finally at the age where that’s your favorite thing, too (even though this is the only time it happens). 

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Your big brother goes to high school, and now you think he’s even cooler because he always has something to do on the weekends.  Everyone likes him.  Everyone.  This is also the age where he realizes that you are human, and that time spent with you isn’t all that bad.  You’re cool because of that.  You read a book that he was supposed to read for school about September 11, and you write a seven-page paper on it for him even though you have a fever.  You don’t even feel guilty because you finally had something to offer him.  He gets 100% on it, which you believe means that you are, in fact, a genius.

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All of a sudden, you notice that his friends are cute.  He goes to winter formal with a girl you don’t know, and all of his friends sleep at your house afterward.  Volunteering your bed for them to sleep in (OMG, you think), you fall asleep at 9:30 in your mom’s bed, only to wake up when they get home at 12 to act like you’ve been awake all along.  You go downstairs to get a glass of water just to see what they’re doing.  You’re still in junior high, so they don’t pay much attention to you.

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Turns out, you actually are a decent athlete.  You win the “Athlete of the Year” award at school, just like your big brother, but you win it two years in a row (seventh AND eighth grade, when it really matters).  For the rest of your life, you’ll brag about this.  After you won it the first year, your brother patted you on the back and said “good job,” which was better than the trophy.

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For your high school application, you have to write about someone in your life who has character.  You write about your big brother because you are still under the impression that you want to be just like him.  And, at this point, he hasn’t made many mistakes.  You tell the application-reader that he has always had to work hard for everything he’s earned, and that’s true. 

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Then you get into high school.  Lots of people refer to you as your brother’s little sister.  You think you’re hot shit because you know all of your brother’s friends and they actually say hi to you sometimes.  A couple of them have little sisters that are your age, and you unite and talk about your brothers’ hot friends and who you think is the hottest.  Eventually, the thrill will fade and you’ll walk around the house in sweats and no makeup in front of them (can you believe it?). They become your big brothers, too. 

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You play sports until your sophomore year.  You sprain your ankle one night and your brother has to carry you to his car.  You think he’s going to carry you like the princess that you are, but he throws you over his shoulder sack of potatoes style.  Then you quit sports because they aren’t fun anymore.  Your brother doesn’t understand because football is the equivalent of oxygen to him and because he hasn’t developed empathy when it comes to you.  He tells you you’re wasting your talent, and that he wishes he had the natural ability that you have.  He learned these backward compliments from your dad.  You’re fifteen, so you don’t see that yet. 

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You come to realize that there are certain moments that you and your big brother have together that you’ll never forget.  One night, he’s driving you home and you notice that he’s crying.  You ask him what’s wrong and he mentions something about your dad.  You understand that you’re seeing a broken man.  You’ll see more of them as you get older (you fall in love with a couple, too), and each of them is the saddest thing you’ll ever see.  He leaves, and you learn what it means to want to go to war for someone.  That night, you write your dad a letter and read it to him out loud about how he’s fucking up his own life, which in turn is fucking you and your brother up.  Nothing changes, but it will be the bravest thing you’ll ever do, and you’ll be proud.

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A couple years go by and football is still your brother’s life.  He becomes the team captain and his team wins the first state championship.  Your whole family goes to his games.  Like, everyone.  You tell him you’re proud of him, holding back tears because you mean it.  You’ll never see him happier. 

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At some point, you start to tell your brother that you love him.  He starts to say it back.  You always say it first, but you don’t care. 

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Your brother graduates high school and goes to college.  Even though it’s close to your house, he moves out.  You bring him lunch a couple times and stay for five minutes because, well, all he really wanted was lunch.  A new school means new friends, and you’re happy about that.

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In your junior year of high school, you throw a party at your house and you get drunk for the third time.  Your brother finds out about it and invites his friends, too.  You propose to one of them.  You get too drunk, and your brother carries you upstairs.  Sack of potatoes.

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It’s time to start applying to colleges, and you swear that you’ll go away because you just have to get out (everyone is so over Orange County).  You get a scholarship, and you go to the very same school that your brother goes to.  Secretly, you’re happy about it.  You get him and his friends to come over by making them food.

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You and your brother don’t have much of anything in common, and you don’t like a lot of the things he does.  In fact, you spend a decent amount of time bitching to your mom about him.  You wonder how he can think that the world is made of rainbows and that everything will always work out, la de da.  Sometimes this makes you jealous.  But, you come to the conclusion that he’s the prodigal son, making you the older brother.  Shit.  Well, this helps and you bitch a little less but only a little.  No matter how hard you try, you’re always happy to see him.

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As you add up the years in your head, you can’t help but laugh.  You start to think about what you’ve learned from your big brother, and they’re all good things.  When people ask you about him, you always say the same thing.  You tell them that he’s the most likeable person you’ve ever met, and they’d be hard-pressed to find someone with a purer heart.  Or with a deeper knowledge of dinosaurs.