Choose Your Story, Part Two: Brothers at Arms

Barry and Jonathan’s computer repair and website design business was nearing the end of its five-year run. Their warehouse was small; there was barely room for all the blame that the brothers threw back and forth. The technological entrepreneurs, aged 29 and 30, were angry at themselves and at each other.

“Did you get a chance to make those calls to the potential new accounts?” Barry asked at 5:00 on a Friday afternoon.

I was going to get to that just as soon as I finished updating the invoices, balancing the corporate check book, fixing Mrs. Morgan’s website and returning the seven calls that have come in over the last hour,” Jon replied, his neck muscles tightening with every syllable.

Barry looked at his brother, his junior by only 15 months. “Because as you may be aware, we don’t have enough money this week for rent, never mind payroll. Again. And if you can’t land a couple of those new accounts, we may have to shut this whole thing down. I thought I might have mentioned this given that it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past three months since we managed to lose the Stentson account.”

“Still blaming me for that one, are you? Like you had nothing to do with it?”

“All I know is that Mrs. Stentson said on the phone that she had a check for six thousand dollars for the twenty-page website we pitched and that when you went over to give her the contract and collect the payment, all of a sudden she changed her mind.”

“You know, maybe if you could get the websites designed in a timely fashion, we could get some traction on referrals.”

“You know, maybe if you could return some calls, I would have some websites to design.”

“So this is my fault? Your business model is imploding; your secretary slash girlfriend takes home more money than either of us; you’re draining the corporate account with personal expenditures and this is my fault?”

“You watch television in the middle of the business day and you’re blaming me for our troubles?”

“I watch a half hour of ‘The Simpsons’ while I’m eating lunch. That’s not exactly sleeping with the staff.”

“A cartoon show. Well, at least there’s some chance you’d understand it.”

“OK. That’s it,” Jonathan said. “I’m outa here, you asshole.”

And he was. He picked up his computer, threw down his keys, and walked out. He didn’t show up for work on Monday morning; he didn’t return half a dozen calls from his brother; he didn’t show up for Sunday dinner at their mom’s house.

***

Barry and Jonathan didn’t see each other or speak to one another for six years.

Recently, their mother asked them both to Sunday dinner. Barry and I ran into one another in line at the movies and he asked me what to do.

“Go to dinner,” I told him.

“Go to dinner?” He replied. “Are you kidding? It’s not that simple.” Barry started pacing. “I haven’t seen Jon is six years. He got married and didn’t even invite me to the wedding. I had to hear about his marriage from friends. I didn’t even know he was married. He has two kids now. I have a niece, four years old, and a nephew 18-months whom I’ve never even met. I can’t just ‘go to dinner.’ What will we talk about? It’s obvious that he still hates me and, to tell you the truth, I have some resentments as well. I don’t think he worked as hard as he could have; it was a struggle to get him to hold up his end. I’ve struggled tremendously doing all the work myself these past six years. I still have some strong feelings.”

“Go to dinner,” I repeated.

“OK, OK, let’s say I go to dinner. What will we talk about? The last time we chatted he called me an asshole.”

“Memorize these two sentences: ‘Please pass the turkey’ and ‘Those kids are so cute.’ Stick to the script. No matter what anyone says, just keep repeating ‘Gosh, those kids are cute.'”

“I’ll feel like an idiot,” Barry said.

“An idiot is better than an asshole, Barry. Besides, what have you got to lose? The relationship could hardly be worse.”

I saw Barry again at the gym the following week. “How did it go?” I asked. “Did you stick to the script?”

“Yes. And just like I said, I felt like an idiot. I played with the kids most of the evening and the only words I spoke to my brother were about food.”

“Good.”

“Now, what do I do?”

“Now you go to dinner again the next time your mom asks you. Thanksgiving is good. Whatever holidays your family celebrates together. Stay on message. Talk about how cute the kids are; talk about the food. Do not stray.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll talk about this again in two years.”

***

I saw Barry now and again around town and at the gym for two years. The subject of his brother came up again. “How’s it going with Jonathan?” I asked.

“There’s no change, really. We see each other a lot, usually at mom’s. Well, that’s not true. We all had Thanksgiving dinner at Jon’s this year. And I had the family over for a Memorial Day bar-be-que. We still have never talked about the business imploding and the big fight; we still haven’t talked about the fact that we didn’t see or speak to each other for six years. I haven’t mentioned that I’m still hurt from when he called me and asshole, walked out, and didn’t return my calls.”

“What do you talk about?”

“We just talk about how cute his kids are.”

“Good.”

Here’s the take-away: Barry and Jonathan now have a different history than they had before. Instead of looking back on “That’s it. I’m out of here, you asshole” as the last words between them, they now have a different backdrop. Their interactions now look back over family dinners, cute kids, pleasant–if limited conversations. They have half a dozen meals to look back on, half a dozen times when Barry played with Jonathan’s kids and talked only about how cute they are.

But they haven’t healed the relationship; they haven’t made any real progress; they haven’t cleansed the wound; they haven’t been completely honest with each other.

And we may never know where Jimmy Hoffa’s body ended up. Not necessarily a bad thing. Not all relationships can be perfect. The one between Barry and Jonathan is better than it was. And it may get better still over time. For now, they’ve made wonderful progress. It their life were a movie, it would have an even happier ending.

And think how much better off they are than Mr. and Mrs. Andirez from last week.