Kicking Yourself For Saying It

, , , , | Related | April 17, 2018

(We are in the middle of moving house. My mother and I — both quite small women — have been tasked with moving a heavy ottoman upstairs. We get stuck halfway up, out of strength and breath.)

Mum: “Holy s***, this is heavy.”

Me: *struggling to breathe, bearing all the weight* “I think we need help. Can we get [Brother] to help?”

(My brother is 16 years old, 6’1″, and built like a gorilla, but he’s severely autistic and epileptic. He’s recently had a seizure, and is sitting quietly in his room, unaware of what’s going on outside his little bubble. We don’t want to disturb him, but I am at serious risk of being crushed to death.)

Mum: *finally giving in* “[Brother]!”

(Obediently, my brother appears at the top of the stairs. We instruct him in what we need him to do. He grabs the other end of the ottoman and helps pull it the rest of the way, but he gets stuck at the top of the stairs. There’s a pile of my books right in front of my room, meaning he can’t go back any further without moving them.)

Brother: *looks at me expectantly*

Me: “It’s okay, [Brother]. Just kick them out the way or something.”

(Bearing in mind that I haven’t heard a word out of him all day, none of us could have predicted what happens next.)

Brother: “HIIIIIIIIIIIYYYYAAAAAAAAAAA!”

(And I kid you not, he spins around and BOOTS my books, all his weight behind the kick, sending them scattering. One book even flies into the opposite wall.)

Me & Mum: *staring*

(Then, my brother turns quietly back towards us, gives a little shrug as if nothing happened, and picks up the entire ottoman by himself as if it weighs nothing, and carries it into his room.)

Me: *still staring, in shock*

(A few seconds pass in silence.)

Mum: *quietly, to me* “Well, you did say he could kick it.”

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