Blind Brother: The Real Son They Abandoned

Dad picked up the last piece of honey-glazed ribs at the dining table during dinner and placed it on my younger brother Henry Luther's plate.

My hand froze, my fork still in midair as I reached for the honey-glazed ribs dish. I hesitated for a moment before picking up some vegetables instead.

"I'd like to sign up for a math competition prep class, Dad…"

Dad didn't even bother to look up from his food. "Henry's grades slipped on his last monthly exam, so help him with his studies this weekend instead."

I said hesitantly, "I need to study for my own exams too…"

Dad put down his cutlery and looked at me. "Your grades are good anyway. What's the big deal about helping Henry? I didn't raise you all these years just for you to refuse such a small favor, Julian."

Henry chewed on the honey-glazed rib and said through his mouthful, "I'd like to join the public speaking competition—the city-wide one."

Dad instantly agreed. "Go ahead and sign up for it. How much is the registration fee?"

"90 dollars."

"I'll transfer the money to you tomorrow."

Doreen Lowe, my teacher, recommended me for the state math competition last month, with the registration fee being 45 dollars.

At the time, I lingered by the living room doorway for a long time before working up the courage to ask for the money. Dad wiped the coffee table and didn't even raise his head. "You might not even win the competition if you prepare for it. Where do you think we're supposed to get that much money, Julian?"

I eventually had to tell Ms. Lowe that I didn't want to participate in the math competition when she asked me about it two more times.

"I'm done," Henry said as he pushed his plate away, leaving more than half the plate of food untouched.

Dad reached out and felt Henry's forehead. "Why did you eat so little? Do you not feel well?"

"I played basketball with some friends this afternoon and had cold soda after that."

Dad pushed the plate back to Henry and said, "You have to finish your food since you're still growing. Go on now, Henry."

I looked down at my plate, where most of the food remained, feeling a lump in my throat. I chewed on the vegetables for a long time before finally swallowing.

Three days ago, I went to the academic affairs office to help sort out student files. I noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Before I could push it open, I heard two teachers talking inside.

"Henry Luther from Class 3 had type B blood listed on his last medical checkup."

"Huh? That can't be right. His father listed himself as type O on the emergency contact form he filled out during the parent-teacher meeting, while his mother is type O as well. How could two type O parents have a type B child?"

There was a moment of silence inside, followed by the sound of papers being flipped through. "Henry wasn't the one adopted by the Luther family, right? I recall them adopting a boy by the name of Julian Luther."

"That makes even less sense, then."

I stood outside the door, my hand resting on the doorknob. I couldn't bring myself to push the door open. Mom and Dad were both type O. I mentally went over the blood type chart from biology class. I knew very well that two type O parents couldn't possibly have a type B child.

I crouched on the floor, replaying those words in my mind. I suddenly heard a buzzing filling my ears. Could it be that Henry wasn't Mom and Dad's biological son either? Who was their biological son, then?

I had been turning that thought over in my head for three days.

Once we were done with dinner, Dad ordered me, "Go wash the dishes. Henry wants to watch the basketball game."

I remained seated, my mind still stuck on Henry's student file.

"Go on, then!" Dad urged.

I got up and walked into the kitchen. I cranked the faucet all the way up, and the water hit the side of the bowl and splashed all over me.

I looked down at my hands, noticing that the second joint of my left ring finger had a slight crook in it, exactly like Dad's. I suddenly realized that the bridge of my nose was straight and high, exactly like Mom's. I also had a dimple on the left side of my cheek, exactly like Dad's.

I already knew I was adopted when I was six years old, so whenever I noticed these similarities, I always told myself they were just coincidences.

However, once three years ago, a distant relative dropped by, took one look at me, and said to Dad, "That boy has got your eyes—dark and bright, just like yours."

Dad didn't react much. He waved a hand and said, "He's not even my biological son. How could we possibly look alike?"

During the visit, that uncle kept complimenting me, saying I was sensible, hardworking, and capable of doing so many household chores.

Henry heard every bit of it, so once that uncle left, he took out the high-powered laser pointer he had just bought and pointed it around the living room.

I was squatting on the floor cleaning up the fruit platter on the coffee table when he told me to look up. I barely raised my head before the red laser beam shot straight into my right eye, the pain instantly hitting me.

That was when I went blind in my right eye.