America the poor: A Wanderers Tale, Volume One

CHAPTER 37: A long lost Brother returns

Around this time, and long before, I kept sending letters to Cee, never having a single reply. I know she got them, I had all the correct info, and never once got a return letter, I doubt she ever even read them, I was learning a harsh young lesson.

At home, in my bedroom in the family house, I was teaching myself the basics of juggling still, and making slow progress, through sheer determination, and I was mainly using music to inspire my efforts with my tiny clock radio. I thought of Cee every hour. As far as my young male body was concerned, she was "the one" and nothing else mattered, but it was not meant to be, as my tale will reveal.

After a few weeks staying there, the doorbell rang, and since my grandparents were often lazy, or not home, I answered the door that time.

To my utter surprise Joseph was standing there, awaiting an invite to come in, like a vampire. Of course I invited him in immediately. By that age, I realized, the past had a power over us, and true friends were too damned rare. Especially friends that share our past, they are scarcer then the finest cut diamonds. Of course Joseph was welcome, and always would be in my meaningless existence.

We started hanging out on weekends, and my grandparents didn't even want to be bothered with my whereabouts back then, they often completely left me to my own devices, which suited me just fine.

I bummed bus fare a lot, and visited Wilson St as often as I could. Carol was happy to see me, and fed me often of course. Mitzy, Joseph's sister, lived there as well, she was half native american, and all spunk and attitude, and kinda cute, if I may be so bold, as a straight male, although much younger than both of us. .

Joseph was usually around more than not, going to a very different school, but we were like brothers, inseparable, as we always possibly were. He was still a inch or so shorter, and still a bit pudgy, but girls were starting to notice him somehow, but never me, he laughed it off of course.

He was part irish, according to Carol, and inherited a bit of the blarney stone in his personality. After all, he was great at talking himself out of trouble at school, a rare talent I never had. I envied this gift quite often, but it was his natural gift, and he did try to teach me the charms he had, but I couldn't learn, they were his alone.

I remained alone in my odd abilities, as I was destined to. He was fated to become something very different from myself, as I was ultimately meant to become a creator of a strange timeline, and a key being capable of altering reality itself someday. However, social skills were not something I was ever meant to really possess. We became a brotherhood, we were never just friends, we became brothers in spirit, for all time. We were that close, like two sides of the same coin, same basic material, but very different results and amazingly different pictures, with different outcomes.

Carol was like my other mother, one who seemed to actually care about me, as well as her actual son, and her daughter. Mitzi's father was a full native american, named Aaron, a very big indian, and not one I'd ever choose to piss off.

There was a story about Aaron that circulated around the family, and I chose to believe this story, after meeting this big indian in person finally. Once I accompanied Joseph and Mitzi to meet him up close, and he was very intimidating, even to me. Aaron was shirtless, and in his modest kitchen, he scared me, just being himself.

He had black hair, and the most intense dark eyes I'd ever seen, save for my own, never seen anything more intense, besides in my own mirror.

Aaron could have cowered the Devil himself, if he chose to do so. He was at least 6'5 in height, very long dark hair, waist length, amazingly dark powerful eyes, and an intimidating muscled frame, but the eyes were his real power. Any enemy seeing those would have backed down and bowed out of fear, he had that kind of power.