“Merry Christmas, Man,” my brother, Todd, said as he walked in my bedroom carrying a breakfast tray. On it was an overflowing plate full of eggs, hash browns, toast, and bacon. There was coffee with plenty of cream and sugar, and a large glass of orange juice.
I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and smiled. “This is a nice surprise,” I said, taking the tray from him. I couldn’t fit it over my stomach or my thighs, so I placed it on the bed next to me.
Todd sat down on the edge and picked up a piece of bacon and a slice of toast. “I thought you deserved it after having such a bad week.”
It had been a terrible week. First, I lost my promotion to Jean Lawrence, who had just started working at The Herald two months ago. I had been at the job for two years. Then they took away my corner office and put me in a cubicle next to Bill Johnson, the same Bill Johnson who liked to take credit for all the top stories we wrote for the paper. I was at my wits end with this job. I didn’t go to journalism school all that time just to be shot down like that. I was ready to throw in the towel.
I took a sip of coffee and dug into my meal. “It’s good, thank you.” I said, wiping my mouth with the napkin. “You’re such a good big brother. Always looking out for me.”
He smiled and took another strip of bacon. “That’s what I’m here for.”