I often look back fondly, remembering the night that would change my life forever. The night that I learned that there's no clear line that separates right from wrong. Just because there are things that are accepted as being wrong, without question, doesn't mean there are no exceptions. Until that night, I believed what society teaches us as being right or wrong. But that's all changed. Now, I often question the origins of society's "acceptable behavior rules". I have discovered recently that many of those "rules" conflict with sections of the Holy Bible, possibly introduced much later by some King or Emperor, just to take another bit of free will away from the masses. This theory gains credibility when it's revealed that many of these "rules" explicitly excluded those in power from having to conform. That night, I stopped conforming.
My son and daughter had gone to bed, and once again I was settling down to watch a little television. I chose to lie on the long couch, rather than one of the reclining armchairs. From my comfortable position, I had an unhindered view of the screen. I was also able, with a slight shift of my eyes, to gaze upon the brother that, until recently, had been almost a stranger to me.
At 45, Rob was eleven years my senior. For some unknown reason, our parents had waited a full ten years before having another child, Darren, and then me a year later. Growing up, Rob was always out with friends his own age, leaving Darren and I to play our "little kids games", as he liked to put it. I was only eight years old when Rob left home. His sudden departure only alienated him from me further. Not that we had ever been close. There was never any closeness in our family.
It had always seemed strange to me, to see a girl hug her brother or father, then kiss him gently on the cheek. Surely, this was something that "normal families" just didn't do? What secret horror had filled this family with the uncontrollable urge to display such intimacy? I had never seen any such displays between members of my family. In fact, I can't remember ever hearing any one of my family members tell another that they love them. Feelings were something we always kept to ourselves. Looking back, it's not too surprising that I never really knew my eldest brother.
It was a little more than six months ago that Rob needed somewhere to stay, after his marriage hit a fatal snag. I lived in a four bedroom house with my son and daughter. Mikey was ten and Aleisha, at eight, was two years younger. I had never married, and took much pride in my efforts to raise my children alone. It was going to be strange, having a man living in the house, but it would only be until he was back on his feet. And so, I offered Rob the use of our spare room for as long as he needed it.
For the first couple days, Rob spent much of his time alone in his room, but I saw the sadness in his eyes when he did come out. On his third day with us, he come from his room looking somewhat more "at peace" and asked if I would mind letting him cook dinner for the four of us that night. I had no idea whether my big brother could cook or not, but if it would help take his mind off things, I wasn't going to object. Besides, if the kids and I don't like it, I'd just order pizza. Rob said that he'd need to buy a few ingredients for the meal, and went out shopping. When he returned, he asked that he have the kitchen completely to himself, until dinner time.
That night, my kids and I had a true dining experience, the likes of which none of us had ever imagined. Rob had prepared an exquisite, three-course, restaurant-quality meal. The appetizer he served was a smoked salmon, chives and cream cheese log. A single, inch-thick slice of the exquisitely presented log was served accompanied by home-made cracker biscuits, cleverly shaped like little fish. It was the perfect appetizer; it stimulated both the appetite and the taste buds.
The main course was oven-roasted fillet of beef (cooked to perfection) served with a red wine reduction and crisp, steamed, seasonal vegetables. The beef had been stuffed with a garlic and spinach puree. While the puree provided a contrasting texture to the beef, the flavor of the garlic complimented and enhanced the beef. The vegetables were crisp green beans, button squash (both green and gold varieties), and sweet baby corn. Nothing fancy here. The vegetables had simply been steamed, then artistically arranged in a manner that drew the diner's eye to the thickly-sliced beef, the rightful focal-point of the dish
The meal ended with a wonderful dessert of individual passion fruit soufflés, straight from the oven and beautifully risen. My one attempt at a soufflé, ten or more years ago, had been an unmitigated disaster. I had vowed to never risk such a disaster again. Now, here was my brother, a "he-man, construction worker type", producing a perfect example. Garnished with a sprig of mint and dusted with icing sugar, this was a dessert you might expect to find on the dinner menus of some of the more elegant restaurants of Europe.
After dinner, I was amazed when the kids got up to do the dishes, without any prompting from me.
I winked at Rob and said aloud, "I can't remember that ever happening before."
I thanked him for the beautiful meal, adding, "I had no idea you were such a great cook".
He told me that he had always found cooking to be therapeutic. Getting into the kitchen and letting his creativity take over, often took his mind off of his troubles, and seeing other people enjoying the fruits of his labor was a huge boost to his self esteem. Of course, his love of fine food was a factor. Apparently, after nineteen years of marriage, his wife still managed to turn excellent ingredients into unpalatable poison.
We sat there, talking, until I had grown so tired that I almost fell from my chair, asleep. I learned a lot about my big brother that night. This night had been the first conversation, lasting more than a few minutes, that I had ever had with my brother. Yet, after little more than an hour, the stranger in my house had my deepest admiration and respect.
To come to terms with the sudden demise of a nineteen year marriage, most men would probably take weeks, even months, just to get over the initial shock. Yet, on Rob's third day apart from his wife, he was smiling, appeared confident, and he was displaying the unmistakable signs of a positive, healthy attitude. Without a doubt, the most surprising thing I learned that night, was that I was more comfortable talking to Rob than anyone I had ever known. Everything about him told me that my big brother was an incredibly caring person. I couldn't help but feel proud of him at that moment.
And, also on that third night, Rob learned a few things he never knew about me. In fact, he taught me something about myself that I couldn't have believed before. I had always been a very private person, preferring to keep my problems to myself. Not surprisingly, I had suffered depression and low self-esteem for most of my adult life. I knew it wasn't healthy to suppress things like I did, but I could never bring myself to open up to anybody. Just the thought of speaking to any sort of therapist, would set me on a downward spiral into depression. Yet that night, I calmly confided a few of the problems that I had faced over the years. More importantly, I learned that I could talk about my pain, after all.
