J.Crew and Goodwill

BB is standing on the other side of 5th Avenue with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows furrowed. He's wearing a blue polo, trendy jeans, thin-rimmed glasses and brown loafers. I expected him to be in a suit as he's here for business. And I presumed he would look more presentable than me. In the past, I've described our differences as, "My brother's J. Crew. I'm Goodwill."


"How's it going, Mars Bars?" He pats my back the same way he pets a dog or cat: three or four smacks, hard enough that I lose my footing. I squeeze him tight, holding the hug a couple seconds longer than him.


"How'd your interview go?" He's distracted but genuinely curious. His eyes are skimming the street and he's dodging tourists. I notice he's developed jock walk since the last time I've seen him.


"I think it went well. My recruiter said she might have a few non-profit positions available. It would be administrative work but at least I'd get my foot in the door. I don't care what I do at this point. I need a job." Bob (my brother's professional name) is the Senior Manager of Analytics at a "global management consulting, technology services and outsourcing company". He works 10+ hour days and travels Monday thru Thursday. TRANSLATION: $$$$


"Alright, we should go to 6th Avenue. It's nothing but shops over here, right?" He thinks I know. Ha. The only reason I come to 5th Ave is for the New York Public Library's free services.


"So how's living in New York? You liking it?" BB resides in Chicago when he's not commuting for work. He lives with his wife (who is impossible not to adore) in a sizable condo (that is impossible not to love).


"It's been a lot of ups and downs but I like it. I want to stay."


"What do you mean 'ups and downs'?"


I explain what has happened in the last month; being followed home by a creepy man on a bicycle, going to the emergency room because of an imaginary kidney infection, applying for 35 jobs with no response, receiving the bill for the ER visit and...


"And, um, I guess...ya know, uh, that guy I started seeing before I left Athens? Well, I guess he's my boyfriend. So, um, that's made things a little...tricky, ya know?" JEEZUZ. Am I 14 years-old? I can't tell my brother I have a boyfriend without stumbling?


The hesitation might stem from my previous boyfriend. Though it was a decade ago, I remember my brother's disapproval. He didn't appreciate my ex and his off-the-wall personality. BB's idea of humor excluded telling the health teacher his balls were showing.  I thought my ex was genius. BB thought he was a loser. They came close to exchanging fists on more than one occasion.


We find Europa Cafe. I see a three-layered brownie. "Break me off a piece of that. Uh!" I do an air hump.


BB inspects it, "I've been trying to watch what I eat." He flexes his bicep and then brings it up for a kiss before continuing, "You look like you've lost some weight."


I've always been impressed with BB's self-control. If I lose weight; it's accidental. "It's called 'not eating because food is expensive.'"


"Ah yes, the starvation diet." BB picks up the tab on lunch whilst charming the cashiers, reminding me that we do have a couple things in common.


He offers to lend me money before stabbing at my pasta, "Are you gonna eat the rest of that?"


I hover the pesto fusilli protectively, "YES." I'm starving and I might have to live off this pasta for the rest of the week.


"Alright," he glances at his watch, "I have to take a call at 1. Wanna walk me back to my hotel?"


My feet ache from heels, my legs sweat from work clothes and my hair is still crying from being combed this morning. Being a grown-up is tiresome but I walk him back. Please buy me a Vitamin Water. Please buy me a Vitamin Water.


"So how are you going to get back to Brooklyn? Catcha cab or something?"


Pahahahaha, "Yeah NO, that's funny. You think I can afford a cab? I'm taking the subway."


We hug. We part ways. Him to the Hilton. Me to the Rockefeller subway station.