“I wasn’t going to tell you this,” I said with a screech, then paused, took a deep breath, and noticed my brother eyeing me with furrowed brows and a gape, as usual.
There was silence, but not for long, as he quickly chipped in, “Go on!” he commanded. “I am listening.”
“Oh! for once you are listening, huh!” I shrieked again, hands raised, as I circled the table where he sat with his cup, holding it with both hands and rubbing it back and forth. His face was red, and his gaze was bouncing from me to the table, clearly indicating that he was controlling his anger.
That made me cautious, since his temper is like a tornado tearing through our cramped apartment, leaving splintered chairs and shattered dishes in its wake. It costs us a fortune to repair things, and I have to chip in as well, since it's an argument we're both involved in. The last one was so bad that I am still making my credit card payments, which were set up in installments.
Seeing his temperament made me very nervous, and my face turned white. My lips started trembling. Fear gripped me!
With many gulps, I said gently, my voice shaking with a mix of guilt and spite, “I wiped your toothbrush on the toilet after I could not pay my part for the repair.” I hated myself for stooping so low, but in that desperate moment, it felt like my only way to get back at him for blaming everything on me.
Patiently, I now waited for his response with a downward glance and a shrunken frame, muttering, “Que Sera Sera, whatever will be, will be!”
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