Understanding

“Uh, I dunno… will it hurt?” my voice wavers

reluctant to let someone twice my size do a pro wrestling move on me,

but eager to be included in my brother's shenanigans.

“Grow up, John. It won’t be that bad,” Clyde says, putting emphasis on “that,”

“Well, you’re way older than me, and-”

He lurches forward with all his sixteen year old strength,

and picks me up, only to slam me into the couch.

My foot crashes into it’s wooden frame, 

and I curse my brother with teary eyes.

I look up at him, ready to scream,

but nothing comes out.

He flashes me a rare sympathetic look.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit your foot.”

“Besides, you’re nine now. You’ll be fine,” he assures, kneeling at the side of the couch.

I want to resort straight to screaming

or hurting him back,

but this time, he sincerely seems sorry. I don’t scream. 

I don’t even try to hurt him.

I just sit there, understanding that he didn’t mean to hurt me.

Maybe Clyde has a heart

after all.