Brother Broken


The games we play...

We waited for Denis at the bus stop. Sometimes he brought a package along, and he carried it under one arm, protected. The package usually contained a board game.

He was tester for a company that marketed new products. He volunteered to test their goods, and they provided him board games to evaluate. He never arrived with games for little kids—only ones that were more complex. I don’t think the company paid him other than with free merchandise.

He’d barely have settled in at home before we’d be pestering him to set up the board. We were a good test market for the game. Denis gave us a spiel about the object of play, which we listened to with feigned attention. Some games didn’t yet have written instructions. We weren’t too concerned with that, because we preferred making up our own rules anyway.

It didn’t take much coaxing to bring out the challenger in us. Dad built things for us and taught us how to construct things for ourselves—things like slingshots. We engineered them from tree branches, and our designs kept improving. We put our finished handiwork to the test and spent hours target practising, knocking off numerous tin cans, vying to outdo one another.

The bigger the dare, the more determined we were to meet the challenge—with certain exceptions, one of which was hockey against bruiser chicks built like brick-houses—something I was not particularly into. But if the same bruiser chicks challenged my team to a game of softball—which meant they had to rely on skill and hard work instead of roughing me up—I was good with it.

Sports, board games, and card games were irresistible. We played them all with an intensity that rivalled Canada Cup hockey. The kitchen table became one of our playing fields. We were focused, and intent on applying bold strategy to the new game Denis had brought. Each player sought the upper hand, and adjusted his game plan accordingly. We tweaked rules for the sake of good competition.

“That doesn’t make sense. You should lose a turn when you get to that square—otherwise, what’s the point of it being there?”

“That’s for sure. And not only that—you should have to give up a card.”

Play stalled when opinions differed on how and when a rule should apply. We discussed each issue at length, and somehow the time spent playing always came up short of the time spent deciding on what was fair. We were OK with that, and Denis went back to North Battleford with plenty of feedback for the game planners.

On these rare occasions, Denis kicked his illness to the curb for a while and was finally able to join the party. The silliness and punchlines weren’t lost on him. He’d catch onto a joke and rock back in his chair, turning his face skyward like a wolf pup howling laughter at the moon. His thick, tangled mane added to the werewolf quality of his mirth. It felt good to exist with him. We could have stayed with Denis in this uncomplicated realm for as long as his illness allowed. But these periods of mental stability, we learned, were sporadic.


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