I left them yelling at each other in the dining room. Eventually I heard them yelling at Hamilton upstairs. By then I had determined that he had only gotten into the one foot locker. It seemed like as soon as he saw the rubbers, he figured he had hit the mother lode, and took them and left everything else.
Eventually, Hamilton was returned, crying and holding his bottom. Dad pointed at me and I followed him out to the family room. "Keep that stuff locked up in the future.", he said.
"Hey, I thought I had."
"Well, double check in the future. And forget about bringing Jeana over until your mother has had a chance to calm down."
He waited for me to say something. I just nodded. "Okay, but he is getting totally out of control. He needs help, professional help, and you know exactly what I mean."
"Not going to happen.", Dad responded.
I just nodded again. "Then be warned. This is the end of it. He does anything else, anything at all, and I am history. I will pack my shit up and leave. How much longer do I have to live like this before I wake up some night with him coming after me with a knife or baseball bat."
"I don't want to hear it."
"Last time, Dad, last time!"
I slept out in the family room that night. Our bedroom, which had been the garage previously, still had the original doorknob on it. This meant it was actually an exterior lock, with the latch on the inside, so that you could lock the door and prevent people coming in through the garage. I flipped the latch when I went to bed, locking him in the room. I just didn't trust him.
I couldn't understand how much worse Hamilton was this time versus the last time. He had always been a problem, and had hated me back then, too, but now it was far worse. I remember thinking that it was because he was two years younger than me, and had to follow in my tracks, with the same teachers, on the same school bus, and everybody expected him to be just like me. I had thought that must have been infuriating to him, but after a while, I figured that was the most narcissistic thing I had ever come up with. Now, I wasn't so sure. It seemed that the more successful I became, in school or otherwise, the more antagonistic he became.
Now, the more I thought of it, the more I thought I was right all those years. The only thing different was me. Mom and Dad and Suzie were still the same, but my behavior was different. On my first incarnation I had fought constantly with Ham, but wasn't otherwise a threat to his self image. Now, I didn't fight, no matter what he did to provoke me. Worse was that by any measure, I was far more successful than he was at school. In that first life he could argue to be smarter, even if I was more socially successful. Now he was under a stricter discipline (I didn't get hit anymore) and I was getting privileges (cars) long before he would.
It was becoming noticeable to others as well. On my first trip through, Hamilton had been in the Towsontown Junior Science Fair when I was a junior at Towson High. He hadn't won, but neither had I, and he had entered. This year he had loudly refused to even enter. He had also been mouthing off to any teacher at Towsontown who compared the two of us, earning him detentions, which he had never gotten before.
I slept in the family room another couple of nights, through Thanksgiving, safely. There were too many eyes on him over the next couple of days for him to get into any more trouble. He did make an ass of himself at Thanksgiving, though. Nana wasn't doing well, and she stayed in her room. That left my parents, Aunt Peg and Uncle Jack, Aunt Nan and Uncle Fred, and Grandpa at the main table. As the oldest of the grandkids, I got promoted to the big table. Hamilton had a full blown temper tantrum, demanding that he sit there as well. He was finally sent to his room without dinner.
It was on Friday that the lid blew off. Everybody had the day off. Mom and Dad took a day off, and school was out. Mom and my aunts went shopping, and then came home. Everything was very quiet, up until dinner. Friday was leftovers, of course, but the feast was always big enough to serve a second meal, allowing me to have some more oyster stuffing. I didn't complain. It was a few minutes before six when the doorbell rang. I was in the living room, along with Mom, and she opened the door to find a Maryland State Trooper standing there.
"Hello.", she said, curious as to why the State Police were at the front door.
"Is this the residence of Carling Buckman?", he asked.
Mom gave me a look of 'Now what?' but kept her mouth shut. After all, I had been home the entire day with Dad. I stepped forward. "I'm Carl Buckman. Come on in."
The trooper stepped inside. "Mister Buckman, are you the owner of the yellow Ford Galaxie parked over there?" He pointed at my car, and I followed his gaze.
It was my car, parked behind Mom's. Dad's car was on the other side of the corner. "Uh, yeah, that's my car. What's wrong, officer?" Always be polite to large men with guns, that's my motto!
"Mister Buckman, a few minutes ago, as I was making a patrol through the neighborhood, I noticed someone trying to do something with your car. I put my spotlight on them and they ran off, but they dropped these items. I think somebody was trying to vandalize your car." He held up a funnel and a plastic measuring cup. The cup was mostly empty, but I wet my finger and reached in, to find some crystals on the bottom. I touched my finger to my tongue. Sugar!
"Somebody was trying to put sugar in my gas tank!", I exclaimed.
"Do you know who might want to do this, sir?"
My mind was blank. By now, my father had come in, and Mom sketched out the problem. Then I took another look at the funnel and measuring cup. I whirled around. "Where's Hamilton?"
"What?", asked Dad. Mom simply looked shocked.
"Who is Hamilton?", asked the trooper.
I ignored him for a moment. I pointed at the measuring cup and the funnel. "That's one of our measuring cups, and one of our kitchen funnels. Now, where is Hamilton?" I went to the top of the stairs to the family room and yelled down, "Hamilton? You there, Hamilton?" The silence was deafening.
Mom was frantically trying to protest this couldn't be possible, and Dad was staring at the funnel and measuring cup. Again, the trooper asked who Hamilton was, only this time in a tone demanding an answer.
"Hamilton is my younger brother." I picked up a family picture off an end table. "Was this the person you saw?", I said, pointing at my brother.
Mom tried to snatch the picture away, but Dad was in the way. The trooper, whose nametag said 'Johnson', admitted he couldn't tell for sure, since whoever it was had been wearing a winter coat. "Green and yellow?", I asked.
"It might have been."
"This is crazy! Officer, you must be mistaken. I'm going to have to ask you to leave!", interrupted my mother.
Dad kept between my mother and the rest of us. She was squawking incoherently, and I was telling Trooper Johnson I wanted the criminal found and sent to jail. Just then, we all heard the back door open. The master criminal had returned without ever checking to see if the cops were still around.
Mom whirled out of Dad's arms and ran to the stairs. "Hamilton, go to your room, right now!"