Brother Broken


Mitch bought a Harley... meet Mitch....

A familiar rumble rises above the din of our festivities. The beefy rhythm grows closer, coming from the other side of the field. Within moments, machine and man emerge just beyond the perimeter of our clan circle. All eyes focus on the wondrous pair of them, bike and biker. Like a scene out of Easy Rider, Mitch rides in on wicked Harley.

Mitch has a star quality that everyone notices, but he doesn’t see it in himself. He can’t exactly pull off badass because of his benevolent nature. He manages to play tough for a short while, until he cracks a smile with eyes that radiate compassion.

Mitch props the bike on its kickstand, leans back against the seat, and folds his arms. He’s taking in the family with a big grin, and is obviously having a good day. We widen our circle to include him. The kids approach to admire his bike.

“I forgot to bring this last night.” I hand him an envelope. He pulls out the contents and laughs. Inside is a Christmas card stuffed with a gift card. He’s amused by the cartoon of Santa riding a reindeer.

“It’s not an anniversary card, but the closest thing I had to one. I was in so much of a hurry to pack that I forgot to get a proper card. I thought you might appreciate the joke.”

He does.

“Merry Christmas, then.” He gives me a hug.

I am playing hostess for the afternoon, serving snacks and stocking coolers with ice and drinks. Our party keeps growing with the arrival of more family members. By this time, we are numbering almost thirty. It’s exactly how I imagined a reunion—one giant, warm embrace.

The wind starts to pick up. I’m concerned about the awning on the RV tearing, so I attempt to roll it back. Mitch recognizes my ineptitude at the task and takes over.

“First you disconnect the doodad at the thing-a-ma-bob and slip the flange over the gear socket . . .” He starts a ridiculous monologue to amuse us. He is in his element, performing bland gestures and voicing flat instructions. All the while, his smiley eyes expose his game.

“Line the spigot to the ball bearing and turn the wingnut counter-clockwise. Slide the shroud on the elbow side toward the bushing and remove the cotter pin. Once the metal rod is level with the hinge, spin the wingnut until the hex bolt drops into the harness.”

Somewhere in all the distraction, he rolls back the canopy into its protective cover. The crowd laughs and claps.


Brother Broken

Foreword Clarion Review 

https://www.brotherbroken.com/

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