“Well, that’s my story. How about your family?” I asked, turning the spotlight on him.
§
I sighed. Where would I begin? I couldn’t imagine telling her about my family’s problems after hearing how she’d lost her dad and how it had affected her mom.
“I have to warn you, it’s not nearly as colorful as your past.”
“I’d say we all have colorful histories, just different shades.”
I nodded, “I agree.”
I cleared my throat, “My parents were always wealthy. My mom always wanted to have children so when she was in her early 30s, they began trying to conceive. I was the end result,” I smiled.
“The earliest memory that I have is my mom telling me that I was going to be a big brother. At first, I was angry. I didn’t want a sibling to steal away the attention, but I grew to accept it. I was happy, and I couldn’t wait to meet my new brother or sister. At the end of February, my mom gave birth to my little brother, Anthony—who we called Tony. Come to think of it, I thought it was weird that you have a brother named Tony,” I laughed to lighten the mood a bit.
I took another sip from my mug. “Tony was the apple of my mom’s eye. He was her everything—much like Nevaeh is for you. It was sweet really. She never showed me the affection that she gave my brother, but I accepted the fact that he was the baby and the baby usually gets more attention. My dad was always busy traveling, making money—until my brother got sick.”
I looked at Kimberly, trying to choose my words carefully. I didn’t want to say anything to upset her or alarm her, especially with everything going on with Nevaeh. “My brother began experiencing odd symptoms in the fourth grade. Suddenly, every subject became difficult for him to comprehend. He didn’t understand most of what was being taught. Prior to this, he’d always been an honor roll student, so he was a smart kid. Eventually, he began to exhibit problems with speech; he was unable to articulate thoughts and ideas. My mom took him to various doctors, but they had a hard time diagnosing him. Soon, he began to forget who people were—including us.”
I noticed that Kimberly was hanging onto my every word, by the way, she was intently listening to me. “My mom began to lose it. She took him to every specialist imaginable. He was finally diagnosed with juvenile Huntington’s disease. His condition progressed rapidly, and he died his freshman year of high school.”
“Aww, I’m so sorry,” Kimberly empathized with my loss.
“Thank you. After my brother had passed, both of my parents became very distant, almost detached. During the last few years of my brother’s life, my mom regularly took my brother to doctor appointments for a variety of treatments, which were supposed to delay the disease, but nothing worked. It was very aggressive. As a result, I spent most of my childhood being raised by the nanny. About a year after my brother died, my dad retired and he and mom traveled together extensively.”
“How did you cope with losing your brother? That must have been very tough.”
“Well, I hated being raised by the nanny. I longed for my mother’s attention and affection. Since my brother—and I don’t blame him for it—got most of it, I buried myself in my academics, and later, my work.”
“I guess that’s why you’re so successful today.” Kimberly smiled. “Your brother left you that gift.”
“I suppose,” I shrugged. “I still miss him a lot. He was so much fun. He liked to pull pranks on people before he got sick. If there were a way to rig something or set up a trap, he’d do it.” I smiled, thinking of some of the pranks my brother pulled on me and our parents.
“Wow. We’ve both gone through so much. It’s crazy, isn’t it?”
I nodded in agreement. “Very.”
“Would you like another cup of coffee?” Kimberly asked, noticing my cup was empty.
“Sure.”
“Okay, let me go check on Nevaeh real quick and I’ll make us some.” She tiptoed down the Harris.
As she made her way to the bedroom, I snuck into the kitchen and fixed our coffee. It’s ironic how much we have in common. Here she was with a great dad whom she’d lost, yet became the perfect mother and person, and he longed for that exact type of relationship. They’d both suffered a great deal of loss and had coped with the deaths of the people they loved the most. On the other hand, they were exact opposites. She was a hardworking waitress at a chain restaurant while I was living on Easy Street as a billionaire. Well, they do say opposites attract. It amazed me how well I connected with her.