My brother can be a real dick, you know. He’s like smart as paint and he’s been to college and got certificates and qualifications. He’s got a job where his hands don’t never get dirty and he makes so much money he don’t run short ever. He’s got a pretty wife, too. Her name’s Susan and she’s really something. They was married in a church, which is a fucking joke really if you know my brother. But that’s the dick he can be.
He’s good to me sometimes. I’ve got to say that. He slips me money when times is hard and he invites me to his house so I can get a good square meal, and he passes on the shirts he’s finished with and gloves and scarves in the winter. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to bits, but he can really fuck things up big time.
I see him some late evenings, coming out of a bar up town. One of them wine bar places, where you got to dress right to get in and it costs you an arm and a leg for a half pint of flat beer. I see him sometimes and he’s with a girl that ain’t Susan and the girl’s holding onto his arm and laughing like he’s said something funny and laughing too hard. If he sees me he waves and he don’t even try to pretend that they is just friends, this girl who aint Susan and him. That’s the way he can be a right dick.
I wouldn’t change my life with his for nothing. I don’t want to be book smart or have the job that he’s got. I’m happy being me, you know. I do alright and I got a warm bed at the end of a day and a dry roof over my head. No sir, I don’t want to be him with his fancy suits and his girls all laughing through the drink and more money in his pockets than he really knows what to do with. But then there’s Susan.
Like I say, she’s pretty. Stop-me-in-the-street pretty. I reckon she deserves better than my brother and I sometimes tell her as much. Oh I don’t betray him none. I don’t tell Susan about seeing him in town with a different girl on his arm every time. But I say as how I don’t know why she’s with him. She just laughs and she shrugs and she says she just is.
Then today, and he’d invited me for my dinner, and Susan had the table all laid out nice and she’d opened some wine – apparently red wine needs to breathe which I reckon is just bullshit – and my brother phones to say he’s held up at work and we’re just to go ahead without him. Well I don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but Susan and me, well there’s something between us, you know.
Fuck. He’s my brother and he’s a dick but there’s rules, see. And there’s Susan and she deserves better. I aint better exactly and I know that. But we’re laughing and I’m feeling sorry for her and she’s looking at me like all soft and I just lean in and kiss her. It was just a kiss, but it aint right we did, and now I feel I’m as bad as my brother and I say as how I’m sorry and Susan says she isn’t and I don’t know then what to do with that.
Patricia Ann McNair 
My brother can be a real dick, you know. He’s like smart as paint and he’s been to college and got certificates and qualifications. He’s got a job where his hands don’t never get dirty and he makes so much money he don’t run short ever. He’s got a pretty wife, too. Her name’s Susan and she’s really something. They was married in a church, which is a fucking joke really if you know my brother. But that’s the dick he can be.
He’s good to me sometimes. I’ve got to say that. He slips me money when times is hard and he invites me to his house so I can get a good square meal, and he passes on the shirts he’s finished with and gloves and scarves in the winter. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to bits, but he can really fuck things up big time.
I see him some late evenings, coming out of a bar up town. One of them wine bar places, where you got to dress right to get in and it costs you an arm and a leg for a half pint of flat beer. I see him sometimes and he’s with a girl that ain’t Susan and the girl’s holding onto his arm and laughing like he’s said something funny and laughing too hard. If he sees me he waves and he don’t even try to pretend that they is just friends, this girl who aint Susan and him. That’s the way he can be a right dick.
I wouldn’t change my life with his for nothing. I don’t want to be book smart or have the job that he’s got. I’m happy being me, you know. I do alright and I got a warm bed at the end of a day and a dry roof over my head. No sir, I don’t want to be him with his fancy suits and his girls all laughing through the drink and more money in his pockets than he really knows what to do with. But then there’s Susan.
Like I say, she’s pretty. Stop-me-in-the-street pretty. I reckon she deserves better than my brother and I sometimes tell her as much. Oh I don’t betray him none. I don’t tell Susan about seeing him in town with a different girl on his arm every time. But I say as how I don’t know why she’s with him. She just laughs and she shrugs and she says she just is.
Then today, and he’d invited me for my dinner, and Susan had the table all laid out nice and she’d opened some wine – apparently red wine needs to breathe which I reckon is just bullshit – and my brother phones to say he’s held up at work and we’re just to go ahead without him. Well I don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but Susan and me, well there’s something between us, you know.
Fuck. He’s my brother and he’s a dick but there’s rules, see. And there’s Susan and she deserves better. I aint better exactly and I know that. But we’re laughing and I’m feeling sorry for her and she’s looking at me like all soft and I just lean in and kiss her. It was just a kiss, but it aint right we did, and now I feel I’m as bad as my brother and I say as how I’m sorry and Susan says she isn’t and I don’t know then what to do with that.