My father was sitting on the couch. I was sitting across from him. Trudy was sitting next to me. Khadija was sitting on a chair nearby.
“My younger brother was smarter,” he said.
I have heard him say this before. Although I don’t know anything about his brother, I’ve heard my dad talk like this in recent years. And trust me. For him to say that his brother was smarter is saying something.
My dad continued…
“But my father wanted him to stay in the village. He didn’t want him to leave to go to school. And then my father changed his mind about me. He didn’t want me to leave, either. But my mother and cousin disagreed.”
The room was silent. My dad gazed off into space, lost in thought. Rays from the setting sun came in thru the patio windows and lit his face.
“Do you know that his brother died?” Khadija asked. “They sent us a letter.”
“No,” I said. I didn’t know.
“He won’t tell you,” she said, nodding at my dad.
We all sat silently a moment, then my dad spoke.
“Yes. My brother has died. Now I have no one to ask these things.”