Written for OLWG #40
My brother, Blake and I were always together. Our mama passed away on the day we were born.
“Complications,” they said.
It was OK though, we didn’t even know her. We heard some stories, saw some photographs. We still had Dad, and more importantly, I had Blake. He was always there for me.
When we started school Blake took care of me. He helped me on the school yard. He helped me in the classroom. When I had trouble with Math and English classes – Blake worked with me. He tutored me. He made sure I passed. When I had trouble on the playground – Blake stood up for me. Eventually, no one would tease or bully me, but only because I was Blake’s brother. When I got held back in fourth grade Blake refused to move forward without me. That was the first time that I felt I was holding him back.
Blake and I had both grown a fair bit by the time we got to high school. I started playing football but Blake wasn’t interested in sports. He was interested in Velma Harris and she was interested in Blake. Almost as much as she was interested in alcohol and pills. I struggled with my studies, my grades were never good. Blake, on the other hand, always had good grades but as he and Velma slid deeper into the world of partying his grades started to slide as well.
Coach made sure that I kept my grades up high enough to remain eligible for the team and I tried to keep Blake involved with his studies by asking him to help me with mine. He did help – at first, but gradually the pull of the drugs kept getting stronger. Blake and Velma ran away together when they were both seventeen. Dad never saw him again, and I haven’t yet, but I remain hopeful. Likewise, the Harris’ didn’t hear from Velma.
I played college ball and had a good run there, but got hurt in my senior year. It was enough to end my career but people still buy me beers at the Boxcar. They want to talk about football. I got the house when Dad passed on. It’s starting to look a bit rough, needs paint and some repairs. I’m selling cars at the Chevy Dealer but its tough making ends meet. I miss Blake. If he was here we’d start up something of our own. We could take care of Dad, go to the Boxcar on Friday nights, we could make a lot of money, meet girls.
Life would be good again. Like it was when I was playing ball, or when Blake and I were kids. Life would be perfect.
Blake was less than half an hour older than me.
That’s how close we were.
Never more than half an hour apart.
Sometimes I hate that girl Velma. Sometimes I hate her.
This week’s prompt was:
- least common denominator
Don’t think! Write!
You have 25 minutes but if it takes longer – just don’t tell anyone.