"Which he is," Clive reminded him.
"Yes, but it's what he's doing with it that upsets me. I'm all for examining the truth of other faiths. I've studied all the major religions, and a few lesser ones, to find out how we're alike—more so than you can imagine. What's his take on it? That Christianity somehow lied to him, let him down. Or that I'm a sellout, because I believe what I've been taught."
"Your limited dogma?" Emily teased.
"The very one." He shook his head, sighing. "I love my brother...."
"But you really want to punch him," Clive finished.
"Pretty much."
"There have been times I've wanted to punch him, too. And you. I'm an equal opportunity puncher."
"Same applies."
"I think it's part of being siblings," Emily stated. "We know exactly what to do or say to get on someone's nerves. We get angry, and don't hold back."
"This feels like more than that," Obi said. "It feels like something which could really put a rift between us. I don't know what I did, or said—"
"Maybe it wasn't you," Clive said. "You take the blame for so much, you always have. This, you can't put on yourself. I think that Eagle realizes that he hasn't got the faith you have, and it upsets him."
"He could have it. Anyone can have it."
"We know that," Clive motioned between himself and his brother. "But he might not."
"May I interject something?" Emily asked quietly.
"Sure," the brothers chorused.
A smile flickered across her face. "Speaking as the youngest, I have a little insight. Eagle is in the unfortunate position of being the youngest—with a big gap. Like my sisters, you two are capable, confident dynamos. If Eagle's like me, and I think he is, he's always resented the fact that you're closer to one another, than you are to him. He sees what he lacks, and wants what you've got."
"He's brilliant and talented," Obi began.
"Have you ever told him that?" Emily asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"Yes. More than once. I envy the kid. He can do what he wants, study, examine and learn whatever he's interested in. I never had that chance."
"You never really had to," Clive said. "You always knew what you believed. You had convictions and faith—never faltering. You were our rock, as much as Mom and Dad. We knew that if we ever needed you, we could count on you."
"I feel the same."
"But you never really said so. You've always been so self-reliant, never asking for help. You went through a terrible relationship, a horrific breakup. You didn't call us. If it hadn't been for Mom and Uncle Toomy, we'd never have known."
"I planned to call you—"
"Me, maybe. Eric?" He shrugged. "We've been bad brothers, only including him when we had to. We've always been so close, and he's like—the extra. And you wonder why he's taking this badly."
"Am I supposed to apologize?" Obi grumbled. "Because I didn't start it."
"Perhaps not," Emily said in a small voice. "But you need to be the one to fix it."
Rolling his eyes, Obi let his head drop to the back of the couch. He knew Emily was right, and it irritated him considerably. He loved his brothers, but Eagle's behavior had been far out of line. He'd insulted him, their father, and – most importantly – their mother. He could forgive the insult to himself, brush away the slight to their father. Their mother was different matter. The Randolph boys were fiercely protective of their mother—especially Eric.
"He pounded the crap outta a guy once, for calling him a son-of-a-bitch," Obi mused.
"What on earth for?" Wynter gasped.
"Because it insulted our mother," Clive explained. "What made you think of that?"
Obi shrugged, shaking his head. Clive, who was able to follow his thought progression, nodded.
"I know he attacked you and Dad, but—"
"He insulted Mom. I think that, more than his anger with me, is the reason...." Pulling out his phone, he stood. "Excuse me." Wandering outside, he sat on the porch swing and called his youngest brother.
The phone rang several times. He was formulating a voice message, when Eagle answered.
"What."
"Are you okay? I was worried, when you didn't get to church."
"I didn't think you'd want to see me."
Scoffing, Obi had to bite back on a snarky comment. "You'd have to do a lot more than you did, for me not to want to see you. You're such a goof, you make me look good. People look at us and say, Wow, Father Obadiah sure takes good care of his retard brother."
Eagle burst out laughing. "Well, they say the same thing to me."
"I guess the only smart one, is Clive."
"Naw, he's extra special."
"That he is." He paused, trying to figure out what to say next.
"I'm sorry I went after you like that."
"I can handle you talking like that to me—even Dad...."
"I shouldn't have upset Mom. I guess I need to apologize for my crazy beliefs."
"Your beliefs aren't crazy, Brother. Not if they make sense to you, and resonate. Maybe don't attack ours?"
It was Eagle's turn to be quiet.
"I'm trying to understand what set it off," Obi said gently.
"I don't know."
"Let's try to figure it out, because I don't want this between us."
"I don't either." He sniffled.
Obi felt his own eyes tearing up. "You may be a goof, and a retard, but you're my baby brother. I remember when you came home. You were about the size of Mrs. Henderson's chihuahua, only you had more hair."
©Dellani Oakes 2023
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