Every Man I Fall For

I shut the front door behind me and lean against it for a minute, relaxing in to myself. Letting myself breathe out the day.

“Hey dipshit! How was school?”

I follow the dulcet tones of my older brother’s voice through to the kitchen, rolling my eyes.

“Oh Adrian, how have I survived a day without your sparkling wit?”

He’s mixing some sort of batter, flour up his arms, and grinning at me. I suppose we do share a family resemblance. We have the same burnt-caramel-coloured hair that shines with blonde streaks under the light. We have the same eyebrows and strong jawline, a similar AFL build; tall and rangy, with strong shoulders and muscular legs. Adrian’s mouth is slightly wider than mine, fuller, with larger teeth. His hair is slightly straighter and maybe a touch lighter. He has a broader nose, whereas mine is more aquiline, and his eyes are a warm chocolate brown. Mine are more of a honey-colour, looking almost yellow under some lights. Most people call them gold. I call them brown.

“Don’t get snarky with me, Little Orphan. I’m making you Post-School-Depression Pancakes!”

“Oh Christ” I mutter under my breath, remembering the last time he was allowed anywhere near the kitchen.
“Shout ‘Code Red’ up the stairs when I need to call the Fire Department” I say, as I walk back up to my room.

“Oh har har, very funny sad boy!” he shouts up the stairs, and I grin.

I make my way in to my bedroom, not-quite slamming the door behind me, and sigh. I have so much work to do tonight, but I’m just not in the mood. The idea of a mental health day momentarily crosses my mind, but then I remember that tomorrow is only the second day back at school. I’m meant to have been relaxed, and refreshed. Instead I feel slow, numb. Dead. I love my brother and I do well in school. I’m good at drama, at music. I have people at school that I can bear to deal with, and I’m not bullied.

But sometimes I feel like I just fly under the radar. Like no one really notices me, or at least notices me for the right reasons. I don’t really have close friends, and the friends that I do have don’t really know me at all. I feel like everyone has all these preconceived notions of me, or spends five minutes with me and thinks my personality is so disgustingly simple that I don’t require any more digging; like they already know me.

I wish I wasn’t the younger brother. I wish people didn’t look at me and see Adrian. More accurately, I wish people didn’t look at me and see ghost Adrian. Like I’m just some detached shadow of him. People see me and they think I’m beige. Neutral. Like no emotion reaches me, like I’m soft. Like half the time my head is somewhere else. I guess I am that, but I’m not pale. I wish they could see the vibrancy waiting underneath, if they would care to peel and look.

*

In the morning, I grudgingly open my eyes at 10:47am. There’s no point in going to school now, given that I’ve missed two classes, so I stay where I am for a moment, rubbing my eyes and staring at the ceiling. Eventually I drag myself up and out of bed, down to the kitchen, where there are a stack of luke-warm pancakes waiting for me, leftover from Adrian’s batter. I am just settling down to some terrible daytime TV with a bunch of pancakes when my phone buzzes beside me. It’s Adrian.

Can you get some lemons on your way home from school?

I quickly type out my reply.

I’m downstairs.

Adrian falls ungracefully down the stairs approximately thirty seconds later, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Why aren’t you at school dickhead?”

“Slept in. Couldn’t be bothered.”

Adrian just shrugs.

“Fair enough.”

He wanders gormlessly in to the kitchen and grabs his own stack of pancakes before collapsing heavily beside me.

“What’re we watching?”

“Ready, Steady, Cook” I respond, without enthusiasm.

“Cool” he grunts, before rolling up a pancake and shoveling it in to his mouth.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, eating and staring at the plastic smiles on the television, letting the tinny laughter fill the gap in the conversation. Finally I ask, because I feel like I have to;

“How come you made pancakes and then went back to bed?”

He shrugs again.

“Didn’t sleep. Made food. Napped. Ate food.”

I nod sagely. Adrian has suffered from insomnia for as long as I can remember. I guess it shows the subtle difference between our minds; his is so vibrant and quick that he can just never turn it off for long enough to sleep. It’s like a constant carnival that never closes its gates.

Mine goes and goes all day and I’ve become so despondent with my life that it’s like sleep is all that it lives for. Being in my head exhausts me so much that by the end of the day I’m out like a light within seconds.

After a few bathroom breaks and some Oprah re-runs, we’ve ordered pizza and are just about to get on to an episode of Judge Judy, which is my guilty pleasure, when Adrian’s phone rings.

“Hey man! How’ve you been?”

I can tell from the tone of his voice that this is not one of his close friends.

“Yeah, that’d be great! ….. Yeah, for sure, I’ll see if he wants to come along as well. Ok. Ok, ok bye! Bye!”

I almost laugh at how he ends the conversation, but shoot him a wide grin instead as he rolls his eyes and hangs up.

“We’ve been invited to a party tonight. You up for it?”

I’m unsure. I always hated going to Adrian’s parties, being ‘the kid brother’.

“What’s it for?”

“Just a house party. Come on, Oli. Please? I’ll be bored if you don’t come.”
He sends me the puppy dog eyes and I sigh, because I know I’ve been guilted in to this.

“Fine.”

“YAY!”

And I’m the youngest.