Room Service

This weekend while hanging out with my brother, I was reminded of one of my favorite memories… but it’s only one of my favorites because it’s been so long since it happened.

One summer, I believe it was the summer starting before the start of fourth grade, Roo and I became best pals. We’d had a rough patch from when he starting talking at the age of three (long story) until now, when he was six. Our parents were beginning to seem less reasonable every day, so we joined forces to make sure they didn’t try to put us to bed before dark. I loved thunderstorms, but he, like our beloved family dog Fergie, was petrified of them. Even though we had our own rooms, Roo had bunk beds, so I started sleeping on his top bunk so we could stay up and chat and I could protect him from thunderstorms.

Now to back up a little bit, Roo is (obviously) my little brother. These days he’s much taller than me and in his third decade of life, but he’ll always be my little brother. We could not be more opposite… to the point where I’ve considered we were up in heaven or wherever spirits are before they are born, doling out genetic material to make sure we didn’t overlap. We were often told we looked like identical twins (which annoyed me endlessly, 1) because we’re three years apart and 2) I’m a GIRL), but our similarities end there. Roo is musically gifted; I am not. I spent my early life with my nose in a book and Roo has never read a book in its entirety. Roo doesn’t speak unless it’s of the utmost importance, and I never stop chattering. He cried being dropped off at daycare, I cried being picked up…and the list goes on.

For the year or so before we started bickering again we got along famously. One night in particular stands out in my mind. I was on the top bunk, and had just gotten comfortable except I was parched. Roo had just gotten back from brushing his teeth and so I asked him ever so sweetly if he would mind getting me a cup of water so I didn’t have to get down. To my surprise, he nodded and went and got one as I opened my book (probably something in the “silver blades” series). He came back and stepped on the bottom rung of the ladder to hand me a cup of water. I thanked him genuinely and marveled (internally) at how close we’d become. As I got about halfway through the cup of water I started wondering when he had gotten tall enough to reach the faucet. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard the faucet.

“Roo…When did you get big enough to turn on the faucet ?”

“I’m not.”

“Oh. How did you get the water then? Was there a stool?”

Silence. I leaned my head down from the top bunk to look at him.

“Roo, did this come from the toilet?”

And Roo grinned and nodded proudly.