lumine (n.)
Latin
[A] light.
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Max knew Sacramento, but he loved San Diego.
He and his brother had grown up in the former with his mother, his father often away on trips that involved windsor tie knots and Jimmy Choos. His mother worked the quieter counters of a UPS store, letting Max eat his lunch behind her while she re-taped boxes, Lucas too busy at swim competitions to eat anything anywhere longer than ten minutes flat, break.
Lucas didn't like Max in a way you don't like loud lap dogs or toddlers in grocery aisles. Max didn't like Lucas in a way you don't like dead authors or current kings. His mother always said brothers, especially ones with a measly two years between them, were bound to have animosity. But there was animosity, and there was Lucas and Max.
It was the name-thing first.
"Why'd you give me such a long name?" Max asked, swinging his legs from a countertop, chicken sandwich half-eaten in his little hands. "No one ever wants to waste breath saying 'Maximiliano'."
"Maximiliano is a very nice name!" his mother shot back. "It's very regal." When he just stared, unimpressed, she sighed. "You both are named what you're named because that's just what fit you best. A nice, snug 'Maximiliano'."
"It's too long."
"It's perfect for you. And no one's going to think that unless you do."
"I wanna be called Max."
"¡Así que llámese Max! Who's stopping you?" She placed two flat boxes atop one another and faced him with Lucas's eyes and Lucas's smile. "But know I know you as Maximiliano, because it's a great man's name for my great little man, yes?"
"Ew, Mami. That's weird."
"Listen to your mother, Maximiliano. I know what I'm saying."
Then it was the body-thing.
"You freak," Lucas laughed. "You drink growth hormones or did you just get all of Papi's genes?"
Max glanced at him through his curls, toothbrush still in his mouth, the early dawn settling into his bones. He said through a mouth full of toothpaste, "Got more than you."
"Hey, barely an inch apart. Since when did you get so tall? ¡Mi hermano pequeño, ahora todo crecido!" He ruffled his hair. Max swatted his hand off.
"Stop that." He spat out the paste, rinsing the mint from his tongue and teeth. "I'm sixteen."
"Pequeño stands then," Lucas laughed. He bumped his fist against the small of Max's back. "All these lines, like a granja arada. Hey, I thought only girls got stretch marks."
"Shut up, man." He swung his arm over to hit Lucas's shoulders. "You're not baby smooth either. Growth spurts."
"Sure, sure. Hey, wear a hoodie, cover those corn fields."
"Asshole." Max ran fingers through his hair, pushing past him. "Give me one peaceful morning, please?"
"Lucas! Stop bothering your brother!" his mother yelled.
Lucas smiled, wolfish and prince-like. "Sorry to disturb. Hey, hoodie, gigante, don't ruin my morning with your corn fields. It's freaking me out."
YOU ARE READING
And/Of/Or
Historia Corta"There's a theory in the world that explains second chances." ----- When a couple goes on a camping trip in a last attempt to fix their broken marriage, they go off trail and end up falling through a seemingly-bottomless hole. Within it, they come t...
