Untitled--Jessica

My brother Cody and I have often been mistaken as twins: we looked fairly similar, we were both know-it-alls, and we were attached at the hip for most of my youth even though he's four years older. He was, for a good chunk of my life, my hero, everything I aspired to be. He excelled in school and had many friends. When I was a sophomore, he was in his second year of college; his failing grades and attitude changes often led to heated exchanges between him and my parents. They seemed to fight more often than not. I was unconcerned; I ignored the fights my brother picked with my parents. Why should I pay attention to his problems? I wish I paid attention.
The penultimate fight between him and my parents occurred on the same night as the academic decathlon awards banquet. I walked home from school as usual, and found that our front door was already open. When I got inside the house, I found that our usually neat cabinet of keys was scattered across the floor. I thought someone had broken in. Pure panic seized me, I called my other brother Zack, no answer. I called my mom, once again no answer. I started getting ready for my banquet, awaiting any kind of information. Then, I heard the door slam and Cody had stormed in. He packed his clothes into his car and took off while ignoring all my questions. Eventually my dad called me. Cody and my mom got into such a heated argument that it triggered some kind of health issue with my mom. Zack rushed her to the hospital and my dad was already on his way there. He told me to just go to my banquet and keep my mind busy. My banquet didn’t matter to me anymore, but I obeyed my dad and put on my dress that my mom picked out, and went on my way.
While waiting for the bus to pick up our Academic Decathlon team, I sat outside the classroom and cried. That was the first time in a while that I felt like a little kid. Except this time there wasn’t Cody wiping my tears or bringing me ice cream, I had no idea where he drove off to. I had no idea if he planned on coming back. I sat through the banquet with my friends like I usually do, laughing and enjoying the great food. But my mom and my brother were still on my mind, worrying me. The anxiety about my family coupled with my anxiety awaiting Etiwanda’s results turned me into a ball of nerves. I was switching between feeling like puking or bursting into tears. The room quieted as results were announced team by team. By the time we got to seventh place, I thought Etiwanda didn’t place at all. Until they called, “Etiwanda High School Red!” We got fifth place. ​We got fifth place. ​Last year we thought cracking top ten was a huge deal. But fifth place felt life changing. I cheered and cried along with everyone else. But I felt guilty. Should I really be celebrating when my mom was unwell and my brother was even worse?
I came home with a smile on my face, clutching my trophy tight to my chest. That would be the only smile I’d have for the next few weeks. A few days after the banquet, we found out from a friend of my brother’s that he had been sleeping in his car parked on his friend’s driveway. My parents changed the locks on all our doors. I thought this was the end of my nuclear family. Cody refused to respond to any of my texts and I eventually gave up on contacting him. The next time I saw him, he came back to the house to grab the last of his things, bought a ticket for Florida, and stayed with my grandparents for the next few months. I asked if I could say bye to him at the airport, he said “No” and left without another word. How did my life change so rapidly? It felt like one second I was just looking forward to a silly banquet and the next I was watching my family fall apart. I wondered for so long what we did wrong. Why did Cody hate us so much? Why was he so angry with our parents? Who was this stranger that I did not know or understand?

Apparently, it had less to do with us and more to do with him. I wish I paid attention to him more. I wish I took the time out of my day to listen to his problems, and maybe things would’ve been different. But now, two years later, he’s back and living with us again. He’s now an EMT and seems much happier. My parents don’t ever fight with him and I no longer feel like he’s a stranger. But not everything is back to normal. He’s no longer my best friend, and certainly not my hero. But he is still my brother; and I’m very thankful that my family is healing the rift that formed in those tumultuous months of my sophomore year. It was a difficult situation to navigate, but learning how to empathize with my brother’s struggles and cope with my own made those difficult times almost worth it.

Fifth Place, a Hospital, and the end of my world.