Adrian - Knowledgeable Brother

HIS POV

Life was never easy, especially for someone like me who had grown up unceremoniously in the Bronx. Ever since I can remember, I lived on the streets with my brother. To me, he was my world and to him, I was his. My life was dark and we could hardly make our ends meet. My brother was the only person that illuminated my black heart because I had always known the insufferable fate of humans and the cruelty that the poor faced.

But I kept hoping for a change or a miracle. I knew how my brother struggled to feed me, even when our parents had abandoned us he didn’t leave my side. I never knew what school was but I was knowledgeable. My brother was my teacher, it may sound that I am exaggerating but no, he knew the answer to everything.

If you asked him where the rainbow ended, he knew it.

If you asked him why the sea was blue but glaciers were white, he knew it.

If you asked him how a pen was made, he knew it. He answered all of my questions which made me wonder why we were still having a hard time. But there was always a question he avoided, Who are we and why didn’t we have parents?

Like everyone I had a name, Adrian. I was never sure what my brother’s name was because no one ever called him. If anybody ever called him they just told him, “Hey you!”.  It was our fate to live in the shackles of poverty and to be trampled upon, or so I thought. When I was twelve, old enough to understand the ways of the world, my brother enrolled me in a school. I knew the basics because  my brother had been there for me. It seemed, but natural that I was the target of the bullies at school. Indulging in fights and getting detentions seemed much too normal, but I still got good grades. This made me one of the most enviable guys in the class and I had to deal with a lot more jealous classmates playing nasty pranks on me everyday.

One day I ended up with sauce on my shirt, the other day it was my bag dripping wet. I endured everything or defended myself at the most because I knew that I was helpless against these people who had the wealth and the means to harm my brother whom I can’t help but treasure in my heart.

I remember when my brother hitched up a ride to get to Oklahoma saying that he had some work. I was alone for the next few days but one of these days I realized something. I had no idea what my brother did or for whom he worked? I had never known if we were actually siblings because he had nurtured me like one but we didn’t resemble each other the slightest. Could it be that there is something wrong with me ?

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