Your name is Bro Strider, and you are thirty-five years old. You have a kid brother that you like to call "Little dude" but whose name is really Dave Strider. Roughly six months ago, he stopped being little officially because he turned 18. Soon he will be going to college in New York City, also known as "Far Away From Home". You have known his whole life that he would be leaving you, but you thought that was going to happen five years ago, when he and his friends played a game that got you killed and then un-killed. The fact that he even became old enough to drive is a miracle to you, but now you have to face the fact that he is no longer yours to mold. He is done, the timer has dinged on your oven, and he is being put into the frying pan known as life where he will be grilled until he dies. It is quite honestly scary as fuck to you, which is why you may or may not have let him win your last few strife sessions. That is your version of holding Dave closer before he flies the coop for good. Most parents react by flipping all of the shits and crying and trying to give serious advice, but you and Dave aren't like that. You had those moments five years ago when you thought the next time you were going to see Dave was when one of you was going to be standing over the other's dead body. Even then, there was no crying or serious advice or any of that dumb crap. You just beat Dave's ass even harder during strifes to make sure he was ready. He was ready, alright, and he's even more ready now.

When you first found him, you were scared that you were going to completely and utterly fuck him up for the rest of his life. You were afraid that he was going to hate you fiercely. But neither of those things happened. Though Dave nor you are into that mushy talking stuff, you can tell that he cares about you as much as you care about him. It's a bro thing; you both just always know. You also know that Dave has grown up to at least be an okay dude. Not all of that can be credited to you- the game taught him a lot, as well as his friends. But he knows how to take care of himself and the people he loves, he knows right from wrong, and he knows himself, which is more than many people twice his age can say. So yeah, you did pretty okay in raising him.

You did much better than your parents did with you, which is all that matters to you. They may have fucked up with you but Dave is going to be okay and through raising him, you've become okay too.

You know he's curious about your parents, which you have told him are pretty much his parents too since you don't really feel like his dad or anything. You are brothers, through and through, even if you care for him like a guardian. He asked once about the 'rents and you answered him as best as you could. He hasn't pushed since, probably because he gets that you don't really care to talk about your parents. Someday, he's going to want to meet them. You've accepted this.

You're just hoping that day doesn't come before he goes away to college because you want to grab as much bro time as you can before he goes off to spread his own wings and be a cool motherfucker elsewhere. Maybe it's stupid and it is certainly unironic but you love your dumb fuck of a brother and you know that you're going to take the separation a little hard. You do not want your parents cutting in and taking the little time you have left from you. Is that selfish? Yes. Do you feel guilty about it? Fuck no.

Sadly for you, the world at large has other plans. You are going to shortly discover that you are not pals with the world at large.

BRO: ANSWER THE PHONE

It is 8 in the morning and you had a gig last night. This translates to it being too fucking early for this bullshit. You fling your hand out anyways and grab your phone. The screen shows an unknown number. You answer, because it might be a customer or a club and the habit of never turning down a job has stuck from the days when missing a gig meant missing meals.

"Broderick?"

You have not been called that in eighteen years, and for good reason.

That reason being that you have not spoken to your parents in eighteen years.

"Mom?"

"Good, it is you."

"How did you get my phone number?"

"I went to your facebook page and from there contacted your agent. He gave me your number."

The traitor. Give a man 10% of your profits and this is the treatment you get? You are going to need to have a serious talk with him very soon.

"Okay, next question. Why the fuck are you calling me at 8 am?"

"Broderick! Language!"

"Mom you do realize that I am, in fact, 35 and have not lived at home in twenty years and so can use whatever "language" I want? Merde, by the way."

"There is no need to get smart with me, young man."

"Mom, is there a reason you called beyond pretending that you can parent me still?"

"Your son- David, right? How old is he?"

"He's not my son, he's my brother and his name is Dave. He's old enough to not have parents anymore, if you were wondering if you could still get your claws into him."

"Thank you for the wonderful image, but that was not what I was wondering. I was wondering if he was going to college soon."

You do not like the sound of this. Not one bit. Not at all. No.

"He is."

"Where?"

"NYU."

"Really! That is very far away."

"Yes it is. And before you ask, he's not doing it to get away from me. I convinced him that it was fine with me if he went."

"I wasn't going to say a word."

"Yes you were. You have been convinced that I'm a bad guardian since the day I found Dave."

"That is not true."

"You screamed at a social worker and told her that I was not fit to raise any child ever."

"I was looking out for you!"

You have met many women in your life. Not a single one of them is anywhere near as frustrating as this broad that you like to call Mom out of sheer irony. Also, because she loathes being called such a "middle class" name. You sigh, and decide to cut the banter.

"What do you want, Mom?"

"I have never met David, or at least not since he was a baby."

There is a long silence, and you slowly become aware that she's waiting for you to confirm this. God, she is such a demanding woman.

"Yes, this is true."

You almost add that there's a reason for this but since that will just make this conversation even worse than it already is, you bite your tongue. The less talking you do, the better.

"You once told me that although you are his-" she spits out the next word, and you can't help but clench the phone a little tighter at her tone, "-guardian, I am his mother. Don't you think it is strange that although I am his mother, I have never really met him? Especially since he is leaving home soon?"

You have the distinct feeling of doom sitting in your chest, waiting to strike. You know where this conversation is going. You know the outcome. This is the perfect storm and at this point, there is very little you can do to stop the raging rain and wind coming right for your life. Life obviously does not like the idea of you having some last few months of bro time with your charge, because it has placed you on this line, on this day in late June. You are very unhappy right now.

"Perhaps."

"There is no perhaps about it. Broderick, I have one favor to ask you, one thing in exchange for all the years your father and I spent raising you and caring for you."

You say nothing. You are not going to fulfill her strange conversational needs anymore. Right now, you are 13 and you are being a little brat because your parents are once again fucking up your life.

She sighs. You don't care.

"Please, let David spend a week, even two here with us. We want to meet him. I am not sure what stories you have told him about us, but we want him to know us as us, not as the wicked parents from your bed time horror tales."

You close your eyes and push your face into the pillow. You want nothing more than to say no, to be the brat, to tell your mom to fuck herself and leave Dave alone. But you know that Dave has always been curious about your- his parents. Ever since you told him about them ten years ago, he has been curious. He never cared about them not being around- after all, he had you. When he was little, he would tell you that you were all he needed. When he got older he stopped saying shit like that unironically but you know it's still true. That doesn't mean that he doesn't want to meet them. He does. You know he does, though he had never said it out loud. Maybe this is part of letting him go.

You let out the air you didn't know you were holding and move your face out of the pillow.

"I'll ask him. He's eighteen. I can't force him to do anything, and I won't. But I won't stop him either."

"...That is very mature of you, Broderick."

"Yeah, I know. I guess living for over thirty years makes you an adult or something."

"Broderick."

"Look, I'll ask him, and I'll call you back. Happy?"

"Mostly, yes. Call this number."

"Okay."

"Good bye, Broderick."

"Yeah. Bye, Mom."

You hang up first. A small victory. You roll over in bed and stare at the ceiling. Two weeks, tops. That isn't bad. That still leaves plenty of time for you and him. Besides, it'll be practice for you both. You have been away from each other for days at a time, and there were a few single weeks in there, but two weeks would be new. Six months is going to be mind-blowingly new. It's always been you two together, bros forever, Dave and Bro versus the world. And Lil' Cal, you add in as an afterthought, giving your ever present puppet-bro a nod. You give him a fist bump as well but even Cal can tell that your heart isn't in it. He looks disappointed and you shrug at him.

"Sorry man. Serious shit is going down. Really unironic. I'll be a better bro later, I promise."

Cal looks appeased, at least. You roll onto your side and close your eyes. You're going to need some serious shut eye if you're going to actually talk to Dave about this. It hits you that you're going to have to tell Dave your real name before your parents can. You groan quietly and pull a pillow over your head. Make that some serious shut eye and at least two beers.