Brothers on a Hotel Bed

One year, two weeks, and four days. I finally heard from my brother. When he called, I was still fast asleep in the warmth of my bed, the covers surrounding me in my own personal cocoon. I heard my cell phone vibrate next to my head; the sound reverberating through the pillow.

“Hello?” I questioned warily, and there was silence on the other end for a few long seconds.

“Mikey, this is Gerard,” said the voice. His words were ancient but similar. Like deja vu, when you know you've seen something, or heard something before but you can't remember from where or what. My breath caught sharply in my throat and my heart fluttered, and he kept speaking.

“You should be upset with me, and if you are that's okay. I would be too. But Mikey, I couldn't stop myself. I feel like I've been holding onto this damned phone for days daring myself to call you. I had to, because I miss you...” his words were cut short by confusion and haste, and also by my own harsh words.

“Gerard, what the hell are you doing? It's not okay to just call me out of nowhere one day after not speaking to you for over a year!” I hissed at him, only beginning what was to be a rant full of anger, resentment and malice towards my brother, but quiet whimpers from the opposite line interrupted my thoughts, made me forget all the frustration I felt for him. He was crying.

Gerard began, “I really messed up Mikey. I thought things would get better for me after I left but they haven't. I really messed up...I am...I'm messed up...”

I asked the only question I could conceive and spit out into the receiver: “Where are you?” I waited patiently for an answer as he collected himself; his whimpers turning into small staggered breaths every now and then, until he sniffed twice and I heard rustling, no doubt him rubbing his nose on the end of a sleeve.

“I'm in Camden,” he said, shyly.

“Camden? What the hell are you doing in Camden, Gerard? Are you crazy?” Camden, New Jersey was not the place you wanted to be, especially if you wanted things in your life to improve. It was 100 percent crime infested, full of drug addicts and alcoholics and men that would kill you without even blinking an eye. That just didn't sound like my brother.

“Just about,” he said. The matter-of-fact tone of his voice made me shiver.

“You need to come home Gerard. If you don't want to see Mom and Dad, at least come and meet me. We can meet halfway. At a restaurant. A hotel. Anywhere,” I tried to reason with him.

“Mikey, I'm scared to see you. I'm not how I used to be, and you don't even know why,” he said.

“Then explain to me. You're my big brother, make me understand. I want to help you Gerard, believe me, I do. I want to be a part of your life again.” It was amazing how open I was being to my brother, the stranger. I was so desperately attempting to lure him back home with me, with our friends, and with our parents. Right now, I didn't care why he left- that was not the priority right now. All I wanted to do was get Gerard home.

“Will you meet me somewhere?” I asked.

“I can't meet you anywhere, Mikey. I- I got into some trouble. I can't leave, not just yet.” His voice faded into the receiver. “I have to go, Mikey. I don't want you to worry, though. I'll call you sometime this week, I promise.”

I grew frantic in his haste to end the conversation. “Swear to me, Gerard, that you will call. If you don't, I'll end up driving down to Camden myself to find you.”

“No, Mikey! Damn it, I will call you, okay? Trust me.” That was the maddest I'd heard him sound our whole conversation, but I had to admit that I missed his short temper. And trusting him? It was something I was willing to do again, but it would definitely be hard. I could tell that this was the end of our conversation. “ I'll talk to you later, Gerard.”

“You know I missed you, Mikey. I hated to leave you like I did,” he said. Each word sounded as clear as the honesty that clung to their meaning.

“I don't even know why you left, Gerard. You never told me,” I explained, “I think that bothers me the most. I've been wondering for over a year. Wondering if you were still in New Jersey or the United States, or even if you were still alive.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, “I'll explain everything to you sometime.”

“When will 'sometime' be?”

“Soon.” I could almost hear the slightest smile on his lips when he spoke.

My expression turned serious again. “You promised, Gerard. I better hear from you by the end of the week, and I won't even tell Mom or Dad that you called, unless you want me to. I can keep a secret if you can keep a promise.”

“I promise, Mikey.”

“I wish I didn't have to hang up,” I said, “I'm scared to stop talking to you.”

“Don't be scared Mikey. If you want to hear it again: I promise to call you. I gotta go now,” he said, “Bye, Mikey.”

“Bye, Gerar-” He had hung up the phone before I could say his name.