A Ballad Of Brothers And Bunk Beds

My parents divorce when I am eleven. Mom has custody, though we spend weekends with Dad.

Ever since the divorce, Dad has lived in various rental apartments in the general vicinity. When I am nineteen or so, Dad moves back into Mom’s condo with us kids, and Mom moves out to live with her sister.

The decision is because Dad is the only person who can control my younger brother, who is fully into his rebellious phase. There is some genuine worry that he’ll wind up in juvie if he doesn’t have a stern hand holding onto him.

Unfortunately, I’m nearing twenty-two now, and there has been no improvement in my younger brother’s behaviour. Plus, my aunt is making noise about how long Mom has been freeloading at her place.

The new arrangement my parents have come to is that Mom lives with me in her original condo, while Dad buys another home and lives with my younger brother there.

I’m talking with Dad when he mentions that he’s interested in buying a unit in the condo down the road.

Dad: “It’s significantly cheaper than the others in the area, but it’s pretty lousy. The owners have renovated the place such that it only has two bedrooms.”

Me: “From the original three?”

Dad: “Yes. So I might have to get a bunk bed if you’re staying over.”

I burst out laughing at the notion.

Dad: “Uh, that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. I was expecting you to be all fire and brimstone at the prospect of sharing a room with your brother.”

Me: “Dad, it’s not even a five-minute walk down the street. I can just walk back to my room here if I need to sleep.”

Dad: “But what happens if you stay over?”

Me: “No point. There are literally less than 100 meters between…” *jerks my thumb at my room* “…and that place. There’s no point in me staying over.”

Dad: “I see. Though I’ll still get bunk beds, in case you change your mind.”

Me: “No need. If worse comes to worst, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Dad: “You’re that opposed to sharing a room with [Younger Brother]?”

Me: *1000-yard stare* “Yes.”