Friend or Foe?

I used to watch Tom and Jerry a lot as a kid. And every once in a while, there would be an episode where Tom and Jerry would get along. They would unite against a common enemy and fight their battle together. I always loved those episodes. And I would naively believe that it meant the end to their volatile relationship, that they would still be friends in the next episode. But this never happened and by the next episode they were enemies once again. This pretty much describes my relationship with Max growing up.

While most of my childhood was spent under the torment of my brother, there were shining moments when we would get along. When I look back, I realize that much of the time I spent playing as a kid was with Max. And we would have fun. But somewhere, somehow, things would go awry, and I would find myself running away while my brother shouted behind me "I'm beating the shit out of you." It was always an empty threat, but that didn't make me any less afraid.

We would play Dare Devils, where we were two crime-fighting bad ass detectives named Max Breaker and Brenda. We would run around our neighborhood and use our kung fu karate skills to kill invisible devils and protect the invisible necklace. And even though in each battle we were victorious, it seemed those devils would inevitably return for another beat down. The game would usually end abruptly in the middle of an intense devil attack with Max shouting "I quit" right after I'd just announced that I had to pee.

Abby, Max and I had started a band together at one point. Abby was lead broom, I sat in the back and banged my sparkling baton on the desk, and Max crooned into the vacuum cleaner. Our number one hit was "Let's Fight, You Bitch." The lyrics went like this: Let's Fight. You Bitch.

It was ahead of its time.

Soon Abby moved on from the band, but Max and I broke off and formed "The New Yorkers." Max penned our chart-busting hit "Sparkle in the Night." The chorus always remained the same, the rest of the song changed from concert to concert. But that never seemed to bother our millions of fans. My songs were not as successful, however. Max complained that I was always telling a story and that's not what people wanted in a song. I think it was our artistic differences that eventually dissolved "The New Yorkers."

Each time we got along, I would think to myself that this would be the end to our fighting. That Max finally liked me. I once bought these little Guatemalan trouble dolls and the legend was that you were supposed to place them under your pillow at night and make a wish and all your troubles would disappear. I used to wish my brother would be nice to me.

I know. That sounds so sad.

I think I know where it all went wrong. And I think it was my fault. We were very little - I'm guessing I was about 3 or 4 and Max was 5 or 6 (and yes, I honestly do have memories from that far back.) While some of the details are definitely foggy, I do remember the key components. We were playing in the backyard and either a ball rolled under the car or Max decided to go under the car for no reason, but either way, he crawled under the car. When he came out, his clothes were black with dirt and he told me not to tell Dad. And that is where I made the crucial error that set our relationship spinning into a different dynamic. I told Dad. And even then, I didn't know why. But I think it was because, for once, I had some power. I knew something no one else knew and being the youngest of five kids, that was a rare power to have. But I planted a seed of doubt. And Max never fully trusted me again.

Or the better theory is that Max was just an asshole.