The Good Knight

"You don't need to slay dragons and seduce sorceresses to be a hero... sometimes you just have to do the right thing, and after two years of silence, I finally wrote a letter to my brother."1

It has been 2 years since I have talked to my twin brother Nate. Growing up Nate and I were best friends. We did everything together, and we didn't need anyone else. One of our favorite games was make believe. We would re-create movie scenes and shows on TV, but our favorite was the "good knight and bad knight." We would take turns being the good knight and the bad knight, though I usually ended up being stuck with being the bad knight. I used to get so mad at my brother for this. I'd ask him, "Why can't you be the bad knight this time? The bad knight never wins." But that never made any difference and I learned to accept being the "bad knight."2

Now fast forward to when we were about 28 years old. I was married to the love of my life, while Nate still lived in the studio apartment he's had since college. Nate had run into some hard times after graduation. He was suppose to go on to play professional football when a tragic sports injury crushed his dreams. I had felt so sorry for my brother, football had been the only thing he had ever really known. So that year I asked him to come live with me and my wife in an apartment over our garage. There at least he could have a hot meal every night and a family who cared about him. So that year we packed up his few belongings and took him home. 3

I was you're average business man. I went to work everyday and came home to my wife every night. It was a predictable life, but it was mine and I loved everyday of it. A year after Nate moved in, God had blessed us with a baby girl. I thought my life was perfect.4

When my daughter was about two, my company gave me a promotion. Unfortunately, this meant that for about a year I'd be shipped off at various times on business trips half way around the world. For that year I was barely home and I couldn't wait to see my family again. That was of course, before it happened. 5

I was coming home early from Milan on a purchasing venture when I noticed something strange. It was about one in the morning and I could see the light to my wife's room still on from the driveway. I shrugged this off and figured she was just having a hard time sleeping. 6

My house is a split-level, so my daughter's room is on the first floor. I went into her room to check on her to find that she too was still awake. 7

"Hey sweetheart. Why are you still awake?" she had tears in her eyes and ran up to me.8

"Daddy, I've been hearing scary noises all night." and with that a new wave of tears flowed down her round cheeks. I listened close and indeed there were some creaking noises. I attributed it to my wife walking around since our room was right above our daughters. 9

"Shh, its OK. Daddy's here. Why didn't you go upstairs?"10

"I was afraid the monster would get me."11

I held back a giggle and held her close.12

"OK sweetheart. Why don't you and I make some hot coco and bring it upstairs to Mommy? I think she's awake too."13

She seemed to like this idea so we went into the kitchen and made three cups of hot chocolate which we then put on a tray to take upstairs. 14

We were in front of my door when I heard another unusual sound. This one however was not a creaking floor but something else. 15

"Oh no! The monster got Mommy!" squeaked my daughter, holding one of her teddy bears tight around the neck. 16

"Don't be silly sweetheart." 17

I opened the door, but sorely wished I hadn't. On my bed was my wife and Nate and next to me was my daughter. I dropped the tray onto the carpet and closed the door again. 18

"Sweetheart. Daddy has to take care of the monster you heard before. Go downstairs and sit in your room. I'll be there later to check on you." my voice was shaky, and I could see fear in my daughter's eyes. She went downstairs quickly without a sound and I went back into the room to face my monster. This time however my wife was in a bathrobe and my brother had on a pair of pants.19

"Get out Nate." I said with an ice cold voice.20

"Bro, I can explain."21

"Don't call me 'bro' and I'm not playing Nathanial. Pack your things. You are not welcome here anymore." 22

"Don't do this." he pleaded but I didn't care. I wanted him out. I had been to good to him to be treated like this. Yes, he's had his share of hard times, but that was no excuse for going after my wife.23

"You get everything don't you?" said Nate in a voice I couldn't recognise. "You get a wife, a family, a great job, a life really. What do I have? A charity case and a useless throwing arm." and with that he left the room. 24

The next morning Nate was gone from my life. He had gone back to our childhood home to stay with our aging parents. Multiple times our mother had tried arranging meetings for us but neither ever showed. Nate was dead to me. A few months after Nate moved out my wife filed for divorce and by the next year I was in a condo fifteen minuets from my old house. The house I sacrificed for, the house I hoped to grow old in. My daughter visited me on the weekends but I still missed her during the week. I wondered sometimes if she understood what had happened even though at the time she was only two years old. 25

Since my daughter only came on the weekends and my weekday nights were so lonely, my best friend became the TV. I usually sat in front of it with my frozen dinner and watched whatever was on. One night, I saw a Christian preacher on PBS and decided to watch it. His sermon was all about, Jesus and doing the right thing, but mainly it was about forgiveness. I was glued to the television and half way through I began to cry. "Seventy times seven!" he said. "No matter how they have hurt you love them back!" he said. But surely he didn't mean what Nate had done to me? No, my brother's sin was unforgivable. But the longer I watched the more I saw how my hate for Nate had changed me. I soon realized that it was a week to the two year anniversary of the day I kicked Nate out, and I cried harder. 26

That night I wrote Nate a letter. I had gotten his new address from my mother and she gave me her blessing. I wrote him that I was sorry. I told him how much he hurt me and how though I may not be ready to fully forgive him now, I would be someday once I had learned to forgive myself.27

That same night I put the letter in the mailbox. And it was then that I remembered our old games and smiled. Sometimes "You don't need to slay dragons and seduce sorceresses to be a hero... sometimes you just have to do the right thing." 28