Tobi remembered the apartment where he and his brother had lived together. It was a two-story building painted an off-white, with an external staircase leading to the second floor. Tobi and his brother had lived in a corner unit up the stairs. Just outside the windows was a blackened fence, and Tobi’s brother used to rest his elbows on it and smoke.
His brother would take off from time to time, leaving Tobi on his own. When he finally came back, Tobi would be so happy he could hardly contain himself. Every once in a while, they had a visitor—a man with a brimless hat who was even bigger than Tobi’s rather tall brother. His hands were bulky, he was scarily large, and he wore a pair of tall boots. He never came all the way into the apartment—just stayed in the entryway—and he always brought something with him, slung over his shoulder. It was like a bag, or maybe a backpack.
Tobi didn’t think he’d ever heard the man’s voice. He’d asked his brother who the man was once, but his brother had simply pressed a finger to his lips.
“Shhh.”
Tobi told his brother everything, but his brother never told him anything at all.
Once, his brother had said, “If you ever have a dream, Tobi—one that you want to make come true, no matter what, then don’t tell anyone about it. Keep it secret from everyone. That way, it becomes something like a prayer. You have to keep your dream close, far away from the prying eyes of others, and raise it up all on your own.”
“I can’t even tell you?” asked Tobi.
“That’s right. Not even me.”
“Does that mean you’re keeping something secret too, Big Brother?”
“What do you think?”