He's Your Brother

My hands were on the wheel and my ears heard Brother A constantly asking me and my classes. Every night we leave college campus, my eldest brother would always ask the same question mom and dad subjected to him years ago. “What assignments do you have?” and “What are your grades?” would come from his mouth. I guess Brother A found it necessary to pick the habit, since we both went to the same college.

Then, there was one question I wish he didn’t ask: “Weren’t you going call Brother B today?”

I remembered my other brother, Brother B, who had been staying back home an hour away. I had to call Brother B because the coming Friday was ’Eid Al-Adha, a Muslim holiday. Every ’Eid, my family and I would go to the Eid prayer held by the local Islamic community.

Ever since I started to attend college, I lived in Brother A’s apartment with mom as Brother B and dad stayed back home. It worked until dad accepted a job offer out of state, leaving Brother B alone in the house. Since Eid was coming up, we were going to be in the same area. Preparations needed to be made and I was the one who needed to talk to Brother B about it.

My own classes made me forget about it I wished Brother A never brought it up. While the preparations were important, I knew what impression their ‘disagreements’ left on each other. At some point in the call, Brother B would get angry about me mentioning Brother A and say something that would piss him off. Still, I was the only one Brother B would only listen to, so I had no choice. Brother A knew that as well and agreed to remain silent.

Taking out my phone, I dialed for Brother B. It only took a few moments for him to pick up. When Brother B answered, I had to put the phone on speaker so I could hear him over the traffic.

Brother B’s voice came out from the receiver, “Salaam,” or peace, which I returned. The light tapping of the keyboard buttons made me think Brother B was on his computer. He was most likely working on his assignment from his Islamic school.

“Yeah?” I heard him ask, his voice sounding a little cheerful hearing his favorite sibling.

He often went to the local mosque in the county. I assumed he would know where the Eid prayer was going to be held, so I asked, “Well, mom, Brother A, and I are wondering if you know where the prayer is going to be held?”

“No I don’t.”

Well, that was unexpected, but I carried on. “Just wondering because we’re going to be coming home on Thursday,” I explained him, even though I already told him a week ago. “Do you want me to come with you for ’Eid or am I going with mom and Brother A?”

At this point, his voice turned a little rough when he gave his reply. “Do what you want,” he answered, “You can either go with me or you can go with mom and Brother A, but I’m not going with either of them.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Brother A hitting the palm of his free hand against his head. The dim lighting from the road lamps allowed me to see anger on his face, but Brother A didn’t say anything, fortunately.

Returning my attention back to Brother B, I told him, “Alright, we’ll homeby tomorrow,” I told him. “I’ll see you, then.”

I hung up the phone and returned it to my pocket. At that point, Brother A decided tell me thoughts. “What is wrong with him? What did I do to him?! Why does he hate me?” Brother A ranted, yet the answer was quite obvious to me and should have been for him.

“Personal grudges, Brother A. Personal grudges,” I told him.