When My Brother Calls

Having a loved one with severe mental illness is a whirlwind all its own. To care for someone with all your heart, and not know how to help or interact with them is an aching heaviness I try my best to unpack when I have the capacity. Its hard being a good sister when I don't know how to answer his calls.

When My Brother Calls 

Suddenly I am frozen.
I try to remember the last time I heard from him.
Maybe he’s going to ask me for money
to help pay off another credit card he maxed out.
I’ll tell him i can’t help this time.
He’ll say I never do.
He’ll yell.
He’ll curse.
I will listen,
Paralyzed and quiet, never fanning the flame.
Temples throbbing
Eyes leaking - wishing I had a spliff.
The phone vibrates in my hand,
(Don’t answer it.)

When he was really little, I’d tell him we were friends and he would glow like morning.

His name waits impatiently on my screen,
What if he’s manic again...
(Don’t answer it.)
But maybe he had an episode in a white neighborhood
where blackness alone is criminal.
What if he’s in custody again
and the voice that responds isn’t his.

The first time I had a hangover, he came into my room with toast and water 
and asked me how lit the party was. 
He had never checked on me before.

My thumb twitches above the green Answer button when
I remember that my wallet has $47 dollars in it
I didn’t budget for hypothetical bail.
He’ll tell me I never help him.
He’ll tell me I don’t care.
(Don’t answer it)

The last time I saw him, he had a full beard and cornrows,
 It shocked me - How long had I stayed away?

I could ignore the call and forget it,
But this could be the time he really needs me.
He’s at home thinking about the friends who moved on without him
Or the medication that makes him feel hopeless and numb.
This could be the time he needs his sister.
He could be calling to remember what love sounds like.
(Answer it.)