My brother and I are twins, fraternal not identical. Throughout our lives, no one ever confused us, and furthermore, no one ever thought we were siblings. Growing up I would often get the question, "Kevin, why do you hang out with Jamie so much?" People were always surprised when they learned we were brothers.
I was the strong one and Jamie was the weak one. I won't go into sports, dating, friends and all the things which make or scar kids on their way to becoming adults. Rather, I want to concentrate on what life dealt Jamie and how he played it.
Without a doubt, Jamie is the nicest, kindest, sweetest person I ever met. He cries at movies, takes in stray cats, has incredible taste in home furnishings, and a fashion sense envied by women. He always had these traits, and because of them, Jamie was bullied and the target of slurs.
When we were kids, he was called 'faggot.' I felt so bad. How could people be so cruel to such a nice person? On more than one occasion, I came home with a bloody nose, a black eye, or a swollen hand because I stood up for Jamie.
All I ever said to our parents was "You should see the other guy." They never condoned fighting, but they knew what was going on and chose to say nothing. Jamie would always come into my room later at night to say thanks. He used to call me his 'shining prince' while giving me a tender hug or gently running his small soft hands over my injury.
My parents didn't know what to do for Jamie. They loved us both, but had strange ways of showing it. Mom would always ask Jamie for his opinion on fashion and they often went shopping together. Dad ignored Jamie. Seriously, Jamie could have set himself on fire while standing on the dining room table and Dad wouldn't give him a glance. However, he would always ask me how Jamie was doing. When I told him he was doing OK, he would nod and walk away.
By the time we turned eighteen and graduated from high school, Jamie was transitioning well from Jamie Drexel the effeminate man to Jamie Drexel--the woman.
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