We can be absolute fuckers to each other if we want to. The longer we’ve known each other, the better we get at it. I’ve been out of a relationship so long that I’d momentarily forgotten. In relationships we notice when our loved one is triggered by something. We are compassionate about it and try to avoid that area. Then one morning they go and do exactly the thing you knew they’d do, and you hate them for a second because you were right so you say the thing you absolutely know you shouldn’t and everyone shouts and everyone cries and everyone comes out the other side knackered but probably healthier despite feeling a bit bruised.
I somehow managed to Tess of the Durberville an email. I thought I’d sent it, explaining how I’d popped in to get those comics. It hadn’t been received. Suddenly I’m some sort of unwelcome aggressive violator because I came into my home to get some of my stuff and my brother found out by reading my blog and phoned me up like he was Columbo. It’s my old home now, though, sure. I moved out years ago so my brother could have space with his burgeoning family. I have never been possessive or relative about the way things have been arranged with him. But even if my nephew can come and go as he pleases, I clearly can’t. I’m not welcome. And my brother tried pulling out all the conversational stops to make sure that I felt surplus to requirements. But I also know that’s because I’ve been triggered so I’m angry and upset. I took advantage of the fact he was away and I had a range rover to get some of my stuff from an attic that would otherwise have remained there until we both die.
Last time I wrote an angry blog I drove a wedge between myself and someone very dear to me. I have no desire to further alienate Max and I know he’ll read this. We’ve fought like cats before. We’ve sent each other to hospital, thrown each other through doors. I’ve never been as angry in my life as he can make me – over trifles – and he upset me deeply tonight because of things that were unsaid as much as what was said. Because I love him and I knew the time would never be “right” for him for me to come do that. I should have asked permission but he’d have told me not to. So I’ve brought this on myself I guess.
He’s got his new family now and they’re great. But he’s probably still awake worrying that I’ve concealed canisters of nerve gas in his bathroom cabinet, or stolen all the screws and replaced them with bees.
I phoned up Minnie incomprehensible with tears and she got me over to Catford. We sat in front of a fire and I slowly mended. Tomorrow will bring what it brings. Your family is what you make of it, and I certainly have a sister in Minnie. Just as I have a brother in Max, even if right now we’re being horrible to each other.