Page 33 of Like You Want It
And then he wanders over to one of the overstuffed couches and takes a seat. He moves around a bunch, trying to get comfortable, then gets up and moves to a wooden chair.
I snicker to myself. Leave it to my brother to be more comfortable in a straight-backed wooden chair than a couch literally designed to snuggle into.
But I guess that’s just how things work in life. We find what’s comfortable for us, and that ends up being all we know and want. Both for ourselves, and for others.
I shake my head and get back to work, wondering what this evening will bring.
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“I haven’t been here in a long time,” he says as we take a seat at a round table with a tall plastic umbrella that slants to the side.
“Well then, you’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“For bringing you back into the fold!” I exclaim, giving a little laugh as I shake my packet of sauce. “Although, I think you were a little overzealous on your burger choice.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, picking up his Triple-Triple and taking a big bite.
“Your meat to cheese to bun ratio is all off.”
He rolls his eyes and it makes him look younger. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is!!!” I shout. “Itsois. The Double-Double has the perfect ratio. Two patties, two pieces of cheese and two slices of bun.” I chomp into my own and then smile at him with tons of food in my teeth. “She? Perfeck!”
He shakes his head. “You need to wait until you’re done eating to talk.”
Normally, I’d be irritated that he was jabbing at me. But tonight, on this super weird sibling date night that came out of nowhere, and seeing the weird little smile on his face, I can tell he’s playing with me.
So I chomp my food noisily until I get him to roll his eyes.
We eat a little more in silence, just enjoying the deliciosity of In-N-Out Burger. But once we get into the fries, I know it’s time to move this little dinner along. Caleb clearly has something he wants to say. So I need to let him say it.
“So, why did you want to get dinner?” I ask, dipping a fry into my chocolate shake.
He takes another bite of his own fries, then rests his elbows on the concrete table, his fingers linking together around a napkin.
“I wanted to talk to you about what you said last week. In my office.” He sighs. “You know, when you were younger, it was a lot easier to be your older brother. I used to say something and you’d listen to me. Without me having to explain it to you so you’d see my side. And now? It feels like everything is always a fight. Like, no matter what I say or do, you’re upset with me.”
I scrunch my nose. “Well it was easier to listen to you when you were giving me suggestions and advice that I asked for, and not telling me how much I’m screwing up my life all the time.”
His jaw twitches but he doesn’t say anything.
“There’s a word for following what someone tells you to do blindly. It’s called worship. And it isn’t healthy to worship the feet of anyone as you get older. Doing so means you can’t make decisions for yourself. And you might think my decisions are stupid. But they’re mine, and I’mhappy.Whether you think I am or not. I’mhappy.
“I may not have everything in life figured out at twenty-three years old. And I may not know what I want to do for a career. But that doesn’t invalidate every decision I’ve ever made. And it would be great if both you and dad realized that, so every time I see you, it doesn’t feel like I’m getting hit with a hammer that says ‘you failed’ for the entire time we’re together.”
His head drops forward. “You know I don’t want you to feel that way, right?” he asks, and I nod. “I just want to make sure you’re not going to end up homeless and lost.”
I shrug. “I get that. And Ialsodon’t want to be homeless, which is why I’m working two jobs and considering a third. But guess what? Sometimes being lost is okay. Sometimes getting lost leads you to something beautiful.”
We finish our meal in silence, and then walk back to our cars, only briefly talking about the weather and the upcoming sports tournaments at Glendale College. Caleb might be kind of a nerd, but he was also a popular varsity jock in high school, so he loves the chance to go watch and support college sports.
“Look, Carly…” he starts, then pauses, seemingly trying to arrange his thoughts. “I probably won’t ever understand why you’re so adamant to live life the way you do,” Caleb says, leaning back against his car, crossing his arms. “And I can’t promise I’ll always support your decisions, because sometimes? You do things you shouldn’t.”
“Caleb…”
He holds up his hand to signal that I wait, and I grit my teeth.
