Mister Understood

by theodotdoron

I love her. Yes, this can be a stand alone sentence, because it is true. I love her. Despite the late night sobs and her winging and whining. Even though she has her own room and Bert and I have to share one. Yes, I bottle fed her as a baby. I was surprised my parents would think she as cute with her wrinkled and bright red face.  Thankfully she grew out of it and adopted a more pleasing appearance. Super chubby, no wonder, feeding on cream always if she could.

So, we were to learn responsibility, both of us. Bert, too, but he was already the oldest, why would he need to learn it? In a way, he was always the teachers pet, and always the sensible one. I don’t think he ever wrote anything other than a first grade. What her and I were given were guinea pigs. The fact that they were a delicacy in some places on this planet I did not learn until much later in life. She would then, whilst visiting Bolivia, go out and eat one. Crazy!

I threatened to beat her on that trip. All in all, that trip was trippy. Yes, but, 33 years before that I never set out to harm her. I took our guinea pigs and had them feed on fresh grass instead of inside their small cage. Downstairs, in the garden of our apartment complex. It was similar to the UN headquarters, that many nationalities under one roof. remarkable considering the fact that the area was predominantly rich and white. Very wealthy as I would learn later. Many school friends were hotel heirs. I guess every area needs a pastor. Well, we were dead broke most of the time.

Some people put envelopes into our letterbox. One particular one contained 1000 Swiss Franks. Considering we were in Switzerland, quite appropriate. We were too poor to afford butter. My sister would go to grandmas house over the holiday season and eat spoonfuls of butter. I guess that’s why she was so tubby. That day, though, I sat outside on the grass, surrounded by only non-heirs, and enjoyed those furry balls munching away gleefully.

Within a second the atmosphere changed. My mum came storming down, yelling at me. She would be bright red yet again, sobbing as though someone had eaten her guinea pig, something she would later even consider to do. Gosh, all I had done was fight for freedom for this little one, and I had gotten nothing but punishment for it. That will teach me getting involved in other people’s business. Well, actually, it didn’t. Once I learned my teacher was molesting a girl in our class I got involved. To my horror I also learned that several people already knew and did nothing, absolutely nothing about it, instead leaving it to a thirteen year old boy.

It’s fair to say I meant no harm to that guinea pig, but she just wouldn’t believe me and kept at it for many days after. I guess when I got the card informing me of her wedding, I too was misunderstood. Yes, it did contain an invite, but not clear enough for me to follow. I guess mouth to mouth would have been better. Her telling me over the phone she wanted me there or something. Like the day I took her pig, I should have just told her. I wonder what her first memory would have been in that case?!