Let me tell you a few things about my older brother.

He is handsome. Not sexy. Handsome.
He is smart. Not nerdy. Smart.
He is witty. Not sarcastic. Witty.
He is charming. Not sleazy. Charming.
He is gracious. Not egotistical. Gracious.

He hasn’t always been this way. He was a total loser when he was my age; never had a girlfriend, rarely left the house, all his friends were glasses wearing folk who hung out at the library. They were good guys – just not so high up in the social food chain.

I guess you can gather from this that I never idolised my older brother like most do, actually I’m not sure any of the men born after him in my family did either. Weirdly, he was the runt of the litter – even though he was born first. He was the butt of every joke, the reason for every eye roll shared between siblings, the cause of every sigh my mother gave when my other older brother and I would gang up on him… Until now.

When he walked in the door I hardly recognised him; he was dressed in a sharp suit, hair styled perfectly, standing confidently broad shouldered in the hallway, grinning at me with his perfectly straight white sparkling teeth – “Zac!!”

He wraps me in a bear hug which I try to return with equal force, but find myself lacking – I stagger back; “Isaac, you…”

“My boy!” A shriek comes from behind me and I see my mother rush toward us with open arms, her eyes light up as she holds his biceps with her tiny hands and stands him back to take him in completely. “So handsome.”

She looks so proud. My shoulders drop and suddenly, for the first time in my life, I am inadequate.

“Come, come,” She takes his wrist and pulls him towards the kitchen, “Catch me up.”

I walk through to the adjacent dining room eavesdropping on their chatter, “Well that’s a lovely story, is that how you snagged her?”

He laughs and it takes up the entire room, “No Mom, she took a lot more work than that.”

I watch my mother smile at him, “The good ones always do.” She catches my eye and shakes her head, “Zachary,” My full name. It always means trouble. “Stop hiding and come and talk to your brother.”

I open my mouth to respond but Taylor steps in through the back door, stealing their attention, and I take my chance to slip away.

Grabbing my snow jacket I head outside; this home no longer feels big enough for the both us and it’s become clear now that I am the one who doesn’t fit.

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