Brother Danger, Where Did You Go?

“More fish?” My brother Stu’s perpetually golden wife tipped the plate in my direction. A mouthful of asparagus spared me from again explaining my vegetarian “lifestyle.”  Stu’s word, which poked me into a state of fury. But other than these old rivalries, my brother was gone. Replaced by a real estate agent who checked his phone compulsively and wore crisp pants. The old Stu ate nothing but microwave pizzas the year our mother got divorced. Came home with skateboard bruises the color of ripe fruit. This guy sang in a barbershop quartet and offered to put the baby to bed.


Andrea Daniels reads in bookstores until glared at, can never seem to finish a jar of peanut butter, and enjoys folding still warm laundry.

Photo credit: Jackie Baisa


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