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May 21st, 2007 - This is Lula — LiveJournal [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Angelic Fruitcake

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May 21st, 2007

A World of Brothers [May. 21st, 2007|12:41 pm]
Angelic Fruitcake
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[Current Location |school]
[mood |lovedloved]
[music |click]

Red, aside from complimenting me on my pink blouse, also did something else yesterday.  He made me trust him. There was an issue with an account that people had been calling back and forth about all day. It was for one of our accounts in Canada. The RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police, yeah them) had called back. I gave them some information. Later, it turns out the constable I had spoken to misinterpreted this information. He misinterpreted it SO badly that it could have been some real bad news. Red asked what I told him. I answered. He backed me against the RCMP. Between phone calls clearing this up, he found the bit of recording with my phone call on it. Says Red:

"I told that guy none of our people would say that when it wasn't true. I'm glad I found this to e-mail him. And if you =had= told him, we'd just have to make the tape disappear."

You don't understand how this warmed my insides. I had to take another call just so I wouldn't sit there blushing.

"Good looking out," I muttered, hitting the mute button on my current call.  I wanted to dap him up.  He was too far away to bump my knuckles against his. But he smiled. It had been eating at me all day at work as it's far to easy for folks to get to to doubt. Damn, RCMP had me think I was going crazy -- and I =knew= I told them right. At any rate, the fact that Red would back me no matter what was a pleasant boon. And reminded me of my youth and my brothers.


I was tousling around on the floor for some unknown reason with the brother that is just older than me. I'm sure there was a reason ::evil grin:: as I wasn't as innocent a kid as I made out to be, but I can't remember. At any rate, he forced an old, dirty sock of his into my mouth. I was being crushed by his weight. My oldest brother came in, calmly assessed the situation and tersely told my other brother:

"That's enough. Get off her."

"Man," my brother muttered while elbowing my neck. "This ain't even yo' business!"

My oldest brother said nothing. He gave him a hard, questioning look.  The look that sort of said: "I'm a little tired right now. Are you =really= gonna make me have to choke a bitch when all I wanna do is watch TV? Oh, really? ::shrug:: Have it your way". Yeah. My brother's looks could say a lot. My other brother got the message.  He got up off me and muttered under his breath as he left the room. My brother sat down on the sofa and grabbed the remote. I pulled myself up off the floor and planted myself on the couch next to him.  My oldest brother kicked the offending sock, which was still on the floor, away with the toe of his sneakers.

He was never any good at comforting. This is probably why it was difficult for him to receive comfort in his last days. But I never doubted what he meant. I knew enough how to read what he didn't say.

"That must have been some dry, crusty, nasty-tasting stuff," he grumbled when a commercial came on.

"It was!" I exclaimed before I could stop myself. We both laughed together for at least a full minute. Then the cartoons came back on. That was his way of making sure I was okay. It was his way of comforting me by acknowledging what happened and by making clear that while it was a nasty, concrete thing it wasn't the end of the world.

I was thinking about how my nephew might miss out on that about his father. Then I remembered: the very brother who shoved the sock in my mouth drove me 1,800 miles. That same brother painstakingly wrote me short letters when he was away though it was difficult for him. That same brother promised my oldest brother he would be a second father to his nephew and never let him forget his first. I remembered even for myself I've found I've got a WORLD of brothers when I need them. Red reminded me of that in his small way. I'm hoping my nephew finds the world as trustworthy when he gets older.

Dang. I'm feeling wordy. Why am I posting so much? Oh, well.

Later,
Lula.
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