"Have you ever been knee deep in shit?" He speaks
while working with his boots without looking in my direction.
"Uh, are you kidding? Did you forget about last year?" I shake my head and lean back in the vinyl kitchen chair. His wife motions towards me to sit all four legs on the floor, I quickly oblige. I watch my older brother remove his boots and set them aside. He leans back while twisting the cap from a bottle of beer. The bitter taste makes him grimace as he looks at me with contemplation.
"Can you ever be serious?" The response is a letdown when he finally speaks. He has been asking me the same question for as long as I can remember.
"I am. That woman brought more misery to my life than I could have ever imagined." The room goes quiet as the words hang in the air. I turn the bottle upright to finish my beer while staring into space.
"Well, you brought it on yourself, but anyway, I'm talking about real shit. Look at my boots." He motions to the boots on the floor near his seat. His hand glides through his thinning hair while gauging my reaction.
"Are they new?" The matter-of-fact tone of his blaming me stings. I stare at the boots without realizing the point. I look to my sister-in-law for help, but she is lost in a magazine.
"No, dumbass, they are covered in shit. I had to go to this guy's house today. The sewer line had backed up in his basement and there was sewage everywhere. I choked back my gag reflex as I surveyed the job, it was disgusting." He groans while retrieving another beer from the fridge. The door closes quietly has he walks in front of me. I instantly recognize myself in that body - the same legs and lack of an ass as the ex liked to tell me.
"Well, you're the one that chose plumbing as a profession." He had lucked out with a plumbling apprenticeship after quiting school in the tenth grade.
"No doubt, a little real work wouldn't hurt a college boy like yourself." His voice took the familiar fatherly tone as he leaned back and examined me. He often chided my education and career while stressing education with his kids at the same time. This was a man I would never be this close to without being related. Blood was our common demoninator.
"Hey, remember that time you got the chemistry set for your birthday? You fished a turd out of the toilet and we examined it under the microsope?" I laugh while remembering following my older brother around while conducting his odd experiments. The image of him retrieving the feces from the toilet was burning in my mind - he used a wooden spoon from the kitchen.
"Shit, you don't forget anything. Was it mine?" He slaps his knee while turning to look at his wife who faintly smiles at the story she's heard countless times.
"Yes, it as yours andyou know it. Remember how you threw it in the neighbors basement window well when we were finished? I could probably lead an archelogy expedition over their, dig it up and find traces of your dna." It is good times talking with him. The laughter feels good, it is invigorating.
"Uh, are you kidding? Did you forget about last year?" I shake my head and lean back in the vinyl kitchen chair. His wife motions towards me to sit all four legs on the floor, I quickly oblige. I watch my older brother remove his boots and set them aside. He leans back while twisting the cap from a bottle of beer. The bitter taste makes him grimace as he looks at me with contemplation.
"Can you ever be serious?" The response is a letdown when he finally speaks. He has been asking me the same question for as long as I can remember.
"I am. That woman brought more misery to my life than I could have ever imagined." The room goes quiet as the words hang in the air. I turn the bottle upright to finish my beer while staring into space.
"Well, you brought it on yourself, but anyway, I'm talking about real shit. Look at my boots." He motions to the boots on the floor near his seat. His hand glides through his thinning hair while gauging my reaction.
"Are they new?" The matter-of-fact tone of his blaming me stings. I stare at the boots without realizing the point. I look to my sister-in-law for help, but she is lost in a magazine.
"No, dumbass, they are covered in shit. I had to go to this guy's house today. The sewer line had backed up in his basement and there was sewage everywhere. I choked back my gag reflex as I surveyed the job, it was disgusting." He groans while retrieving another beer from the fridge. The door closes quietly has he walks in front of me. I instantly recognize myself in that body - the same legs and lack of an ass as the ex liked to tell me.
"Well, you're the one that chose plumbing as a profession." He had lucked out with a plumbling apprenticeship after quiting school in the tenth grade.
"No doubt, a little real work wouldn't hurt a college boy like yourself." His voice took the familiar fatherly tone as he leaned back and examined me. He often chided my education and career while stressing education with his kids at the same time. This was a man I would never be this close to without being related. Blood was our common demoninator.
"Hey, remember that time you got the chemistry set for your birthday? You fished a turd out of the toilet and we examined it under the microsope?" I laugh while remembering following my older brother around while conducting his odd experiments. The image of him retrieving the feces from the toilet was burning in my mind - he used a wooden spoon from the kitchen.
"Shit, you don't forget anything. Was it mine?" He slaps his knee while turning to look at his wife who faintly smiles at the story she's heard countless times.
"Yes, it as yours andyou know it. Remember how you threw it in the neighbors basement window well when we were finished? I could probably lead an archelogy expedition over their, dig it up and find traces of your dna." It is good times talking with him. The laughter feels good, it is invigorating.
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