It was a family mystery, really. For years the tales have progressed. Our parents would get into conversations talking about our brother, Kevin, and all the accomplishments he’s made, the islands he’s lived on, and the helicopters or planes that he flew. It was like we knew him, though none of us kids had truly ever met him.
It was a cold Sunday morning and our family was sitting around the table after church. Our parents were reading the newspaper, Dad had the sports section, mom, the classifieds. They would swap their papers when the other finished their section. It was a typical Sunday routine. Our sister was playing with a tear that was in the wallpaper. It was there for as long as I can remember. It looked like the shape of a heart. She was tracing her finger around it when our Mom stated that Kevin was the one that ripped the paper like that.
My sister, apparently frustrated by our invisible brother and his top-secret missions, demanded an explanation. I was doodling in my notebook, but my ears perked up with curiosity. Like Santa Claus, I always secretly wondered if there was some truth to Kevin.
Mom went into some story about how Kevin had just finished running a marathon. He, as usual (he seems to excel at everything) won first place. Apparently, our parents were so proud of him they, on a tight budget, took him out for some ice cream to celebrate. Kevin, feeling overwhelmed with emotion and pure gratefulness, tore a heart into the paper for our parents to know how much he loved them. Mom said she had decided to keep it there forever, just to remind her of life’s precious moments.
I rolled my eyes. Kevin is perfect, but does he even exist? How do we have so much evidence of him, but no physical proof? Not a single picture, not a phone call, no cards or notes, not a thing. Mom says it was because they were so poor when he was born, but I’m not so sure. It just seems weird. There are so many stories though, so much laughter, so many adventures. I guess Kevin is a family mystery that may never be uncovered.