” I live with my parents in a small neighbourhood. I don’t have many friends but I have a brother who doesn’t get to stay with me. My parents say he is unwell, that he does not have the fortune of having a normal brain like all of us. I get completely bored, and keep asking them to give him a last chance.. He does come over the holidays, but each shorter in duration than the last one.
Every time without fail, it all starts again. The neighbourhood cats with gouged out eyes showing up in his toy chest, my dad’s razors found dropped on the baby slide in the park across the street, mom’s vitamins replaced by bits of dishwasher tablets. My parents are hesitant now, using “last chances” sparingly. They say his disorder makes him charming, makes it easy for him to fake normalcy, and to trick the doctors who care for him into thinking he is ready for rehabilitation. That I will just have to put up with my boredom if it means staying safe from him.
I hate it when my brother has to go away. It makes me have to pretend until he is back.. Pretend to be Normal…”
Some sentences have been left unedited.
. – Bond