Seven numbers.
I stared at them in disbelief.
A decade had passed since I’d seen him.
I had only been in my little apartment just outside Boston for a couple of weeks when Mom had mentioned, in her strange off-hand way, during our call, “You know…I think your brother lives about a mile from you. I have his number, if you want to call him.”
I stood holding the scrap of paper, knowing it was time. Wondering what would happen.
A curious black kitten circled my leg, her purring the only thing I could hear other than my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
I dialed and waited.
His quick “Hello?” felt so familiar, though it wasn’t. I introduced myself. The line went silent.
He said “Hi” this time, softly, surprised, followed by a nervous laugh.
We arranged to meet for dinner.
Thai.
During my drive there, I felt so little. Like I still had long white-blond ponytails and sticks for legs. All crooked teeth and watchful eyes and nervous quiet.
But I was so much more now. Would he see that? Did he somehow already know?
I stepped inside.
We met each others’ eyes, and smiled.
He did that fast pat-thing hug. I could feel our matching protective walls clink and withdraw.
We sat.
Conversation over the tops of our menus was a little stilted, a little formal.
We ordered.
He stopped moving, looked down and quickly said, “I’m sorry.”
I knew what he meant.
Of course I knew what he meant.
I tried not to cry. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He looked at his hands. “He was the same with you as he was with us, wasn’t he.” A statement, not a question.
“Yeah. But I’m okay. It’s okay.”
“No, I’m your ‘big brother’, I should have….”
I stopped him. “There was nothing you could do.” We looked at each other in silence. Knowing that I was right. ”And really,” I smiled, “You’ll see that I’m okay.”
In the quiet beat that followed, we unlocked our mirroring fortresses, allowed each other in.
We asked each other things that siblings should already know, gave answers that caused our laughs to meet. Our tastes were similar. Our senses of humor alike. Our hopes matched.
We ate, we talked, he paid and walked me out.
Before we parted, we stood toe-to-toe in the dark parking lot of a tiny Thai restaurant in a town two lost people happened to stop in during their journey to find themselves.
In that moment we knew we found each other, instead.
This time, when we hugged, we held on tight with the unspoken promise that neither of us would ever – ever – let go again.
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This post was in response to the Lightning & the Lightning-Bug Flicker of Inspiration Prompt.
The prompt went like this:
“Common Ground”: Literal or figurative, Fiction or memoir. Under 800 words.
This story is true.
I have a half-brother who is 15 years older than me. For complicated reasons that were not his fault, he was banished from our lives when I was young. In my early 20′s, I just so happened to move into the same town as him. We immediately bonded and have been very close ever since, despite my many moves since.
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Ow, my heart. Totally crying. I love how it ends on a loving note. YOU, my dear, are such a beacon of light and strength and hope. So beautiful.
Thank you, Beardy. He was a gift that walked back into my life, and I’m so so thankful.
I felt like I was there with you guys and imagined what it would have been like if the same had happened to my own brother and me. (And it easily could have.) Thank you so much for sharing it, I am so glad you “coincidentally” met up like that. God knows what He’s doing.
It was pretty crazy and pretty great. Thanks for reading.
I’m crying right now… My heart ached for you two! Great story… But then again I love everything you write! So glad this had a happy ending!
Thank you, Deidra! So kind of you to say. It was a scary and wonderful dinner, hard to describe.
Awww, I’m so happy you and your brother reconnected. Very moving for me to read and beautifully written. x
Thank you. It was a great day.
Beautiful! And a happy ending! I wish I had a secret sibling..or a not so secret one.
For all the hard that I faced, it made finding him, seeing how alike we are in the good ways, all the sweeter.
I can’t put my finger on it, your writing is always top shelf, but this is very likely the best yet.
Really vivid and your imagery is perfectly fitted. I see it. Excellent, Kim.
I actually wrote something completely different, first, about how I met a friend of mine. But it didn’t feel up to par, I couldn’t publish it. So I saved it, opened a new “New Post” page and this just came out, really organically. I barely edited it, and just hit “Publish” before I over-thought.
So to hear you think so highly of it? Really means something. Thank you.
You never cease to amaze!!! Excellent:)
Thanks, Lady! That’s a wonderful compliment.
I am so glad you both escaped with your lives and souls (is that even the word I want?) intact. May your friendship be lifelong.
I like how you put that. We did come out okay. We also now pick up right where we were, each time we catch each other on the phone or see each other in person. Despite our completely different lifestyles and miles between us.
A wonderful reunion. I wish I could achieve this with my son.
My hope is that those who need to find each other will, when it is the right time. For us, it was out of the blue and during a time of flux. A perfect surprise.
Good luck.
Wow. Pardon my French, but when I finished reading this I just said “Fuuuuck…” in that good awestruck but also empathetic and moved way. That word is so versatile.
Thanks for sharing such a personal and beautiful moment.
LOL! I have the same reaction sometimes, so I totally get it.
Thank you for liking this enough to drop an f-bomb on it.
One of your best pieces. I’ve read it 4 times. Sometimes it’s good to set aside the snark and show your heart, isn’t it?
brilliant, Kim. Thank you for letting me read this.
Thank you, Lance. It came out so quickly, I just published it without over-thinking it after scrapping something else I had actually been working on for a good hour…this came out in minutes. I’m touched that a couple of you seem to think it’s one of my best. Really, I was worried I was out of writing practice.
wonderfully written, and a beautiful story.
Thank you, Nicole.
So lovely! Thank you for sharing this moment.
I didn’t realize I was going to share it until it just came out. Glad you enjoyed it!
I can imagine that many of us have that someone we would like to reconnect with. I know I do and if all it took were those seven numbers to open a long-ago closed door…
One can hope.
Beautiful, Kim.
Hope. Yes.
Keep hoping. I did and was so, so lucky.
I suppose I shouldn’t continue to be taken aback by just how lovely and touching your writing is, but you got me again. This one, in particular really speaks to me.
There was no big event that precipitated my losing touch with my big brother, and we do see each other once or twice a year and email a few times a year when a gift-giving occasion looms, but we are not at all close anymore. And I miss him. And I toy with the idea of telling him so, but have the deepest fear that he doesn’t miss me too, that the contact when I visit Mom is sufficient for him. And I wonder if two people with so much shared history will always be so separate.
Take the risk. You can’t hurt him by telling him you miss him.
My brother and I have the same armor, and it’s scary knowing how well-shielded someone else is when you muster up the guts to try to break through it. Because you know how hard it will be.
But it worked for me.
I took a lot of chances, put in a lot of secret effort as a kid, trying to get my estranged older siblings to know me, to know I loved them despite who I had to live with.
Seeing them in my home now, playing with my kids now, knowing that 25 years ago I was sneakily writing them letters and stealing stamps from my parents to mail them? Writing words I’d pay for dearly if my parents discovered them?
Makes it all worth it.
Beautiful, as always.
Thank you.
Just lovely. You never cease to amaze me.
And, BTW, this hits a bit close to home. Will be addressing a topic along these lines on my own blog soon.
Thanks for another fab read.
I look forward to reading your story.
Wow, this hit me on many levels. When I was about 10 I found out I had a 1/2 sister and brother. My brother moved in, and I adored him. I couldn’t even tell you now why he moved out…but I lost him. I have searched over the years, and have never found him. I am glad you found yours. You shared it so beautifully. With that style and craft you have, you never need to overthink.
I really hope you reconnect some day. My brother popped in once when I was a teenager, then back out. I’m so glad we got another chance.
Your voice and style draw me in every time, and there’s almost always something unexpected that leaves me feeling so much. This piece was no different. I love the emotion in these words. The pain and the healing between you and your brother here is just breathtaking. Beautifully written…but what’s even more beautiful is the message behind the words. The connection of those two lost people finding each other again.
You are so generous with your compliments to me. Thank you.
This one just flew out of me, I didn’t know I was going to write it until I was writing it. I guess it was ready.
Sweet and lovely. Heartfelt post. I had a brother who, after many years of not speaking, (simply out of circumstance -not quarrel) lost his fight with AIDS leaving me full of regret. I wish so much that i had made the call that you were brave enough to make.
I am so, so sorry. Regret is awful.
The thing is, between my brother and I, we both worried about what the other would assume…yet we both held nothing but affection for each other in our hearts all those years. So, my guess is that your brother knew whatever it is you wish you could tell him, make him understand. They have a way of knowing.
So well written. I could feel your anticipation. I’m so glad for the follow-up that things have continued to stay positive for you two.
I love when people interact with us together and assume we’ve always been “brother and sister” in the typical way. It really is like we were never apart, we needed each other that much.
Thank you for commenting.
You really capture the nervous awkwardness of the situation – and in very few words! Your entire story is unfolding in well-chosen pieces. I look forward to reading more!
I love this:
“Your entire story is unfolding in well-chosen pieces. ”
You hit the nail on the head of what I wanted to do as I was writing. Not pour over every detail, every worry. This comment made me feel like you got it.
Love this..I feel like I was there. So glad that you were able to re connect with your brother and that you are still a part of each other’s lives!
I am one very lucky girl.
I have to say that I agree with all the comments that this is one of your best pieces. You always suck me in and take me right there with you when I read your writing (speaking of which, can’t wait for your book to come out) but this piece just struck at my heart strings.
Growing up my brother and I weren’t close. There’s 5 years difference, I’m older, he was the annoying little brother. Life happened, I had my daughter, moved out and somewhere along the way we became friends. Not just friends, but close friends as well as siblings. He’s been there for me when I need him and I’ve been there for him. I can’t imagine going more than a couple of days without talking to him.
So I’m glad you found your brother and that you are close. And keep up the amazing writing!!
Being siblings as kids and siblings as adults is such a world of difference. I bet we all have stories of change, flux, separation and re-connection.
Thank you for your comments and support.