A Different Kind of Heartbreak

Half of you might not even know that I have an older brother.
He's Janell's twin and he's ignored me my entire life. He doesn't really like children. Growing up and never let it bother me, but when I got older I guess it felt like an injustice that my only older brother didn't love me.
One of the few times Steve was over last year, Mom sent him to do an errand and, to my surprise, he asked me to tag along. We drove down the road in his red car that smelled just like him with BoysLikeGirls music blasting crazily loud through the speakers. As we wandered through the store I told him about all of my boy problems and he gave me advice. We talked for a long time and I felt like I had just made a new friend. When he dropped me off at home I said goodbye and he promised we'd talk again soon.

The next time he came over months later I tried to talk to him but he seemed to have better and more important things to do. He ignored me and continued to talk to Mom and Dad about something I wasn't paying attention to. This happened every time he came over from then on. I tried to stick around him whenever he came over and act especially mature to show him I'm not a child anymore. Sometimes I would put on BoysLikeGirls hoping he would notice. Nothing made a difference.
A couple months ago he dropped by to get some mail. He gathered his papers and it wasn't long before he was headed back out the door. I didn't know when I would see him again. I decided to speak up. "Steve," I begged, "Give me a hug." He briefly smiled, his lips surrounded by longish stubble, and gave me a warm embrace. He then turned the door knob, took one last look at the living room with his grey-blue eyes, and disappeared behind the door.

A few weeks later a lady from our ward was visiting our house. She asked how Steve was doing and I started to cry. I could still smell his cologne and feel his hug in my mind. As I told her about my need for my older brother, she made me a promise. She said she'd pray every night for he and I to be friends again. She said she wouldn't ever give up. Every Sunday after church when I would see her in the halls she would pull me in a close hug and whisper in my ear. "We're still trying, okay?"

Steve came by last night. I didn't play any music, I didn't try hard to look good, I didn't even go upstairs. I just listened to his footsteps walk out the door and wonder why I even try to make him love me.