Episode 5: “Big Brother”

If the reader is not yet convinced that Sarisob is a well-respected member of mainstream society, let it be known that the Mass. General caregiving community he has belonged to for the past eight years is not the only outlet for his ameliorative energy. Sarisob has volunteered with Literacy Volunteers of Massachusetts, Recording for the Blind and Dyslexic, and participates in street- and park-cleanings on weekends in the Summer months. Sarisob is presently a Big Brother to an 11-year old from East Boston named Ricky Peña. He was drawn to Big Brother/Big Sister of Boston thanks to MGH’s ReachOut Boston! Campaign, which hosts and publicizes events for and between MGH and a variety of Boston organizations.

One early-Spring morning in 2006 Sarisob was walking briskly through the Yawkey Center lobby, in a hurry to get to his office and beat off before his 9 a.m. patient, Steve Iannelli, arrived characteristically early and sat waiting outside his office. He was lost in the time-honored reverie, imagining Mrs. Silvia wiping chalk dust from her sensual hands, saying “Matthew Sarisob! I need you to stay after class for a few minutes”—when his right thigh collided sharply with the edge of a heavy table, whose metal legs scraped a few shrill inches across the marble tiles. It was one of several tables set up by ReachOut Boston! staff to promote local non-profit and community-building organizations. There were two people seated at the table: a scrubby-haired man of around Sarisob’s age, and a preteen Asian boy. Both were well-dressed, sporting Big Brother/Big Sister pins on their Oxford shirts.

“Ow—Aw, sorry!” exclaimed Sarisob as the contact caused a stack of brochures to fall and scatter. He bent down to pick them up, and the man, whom Sarisob took to be Cape Verdean due to his striking green eyes, came around to help him.

“Hey, you don’t need to do that. I’ll take care of it,” he said. He was a handsome man with a mellifluous voice and perfect skin, inspiring in Sarisob the vague discomfort occasioned by the few and select men he found physically attractive.

“No, it’s OK. I’m the stupid one.” Sarisob looked down to conceal the blush rising into his face.

“You’re not alone.” He took the brochures Sarisob offered in the motion of their standing, and Sarisob noted a “Livestrong” bracelet around his wrist. “You’re the third person this morning to do this. We’ve already moved the table back twice, I don't know what else to do. The first woman tripped and fell down.” He turned toward the boy, who was squaring the stacks of brochures. “Luckily she was OK. Right, Hung?”

“Yes! That nurse, she dropped her water bottle, she was a meanie—no joke. All we want to do is tell people about Big Brother/Big Sister,” Hung replied to Sarisob. “Everyone here in a mad rush,” he added, and loudly sipped the remainder of his orange juice through a flexi-straw.

“Gee, I guess I’m guilty of that myself! Getting to work on time is a challenge.” Sarisob wondered how many other MGH employees were in a hurry to get to their offices and bring themselves to orgasm.

“That’s OK man--at least you’re friendly. That nurse, she ran away like we were DSS!”

“Most people who work here are friendly. I’ll bet you give out a ton of these brochures today. I’ll take one.” Sarisob tousled his hair in the way kids can’t stand.

“Do you know much about Big Brother/Big Sister?” asked the good-looking Cape Verdean.

“No, not really. But I can relate to your mission: I was an only child, and appreciated every role model I could get.”

“Well, maybe you’ll be able to return the favor for someone else? Being a Big requires less time than you think, and is pretty rewarding. If you're interested our website has more info on the application process. If you have questions feel free to email me through the site. I’m the Program Director; my name’s Anilton.” He offered his hand for a shake. I'm not gay, thought Sarisob, matching Anilton’s firm handshake and maintaining eye contact.

“Nice to meet you, Anilton. I'm Matt. Is Hung your Little Bro?” Is your little bro Hung? Sarisob thought, and knew then he'd be laughing over that change in word order for weeks, maybe months to come.

“He sure is! And he gets to go to the Museum of Science later in exchange for working the table this morning.” He and Hung shared a smile and the boy began hitting the table with his forearms in pleasure.

“Yeah booooy!! We gonna see the Great White Sharks in 3-D!” Hung enthused to Sarisob.

“That’s great, the Omni-Theater is the bomb! Are you going to the planetarium also?”

“No, it's boring, 'cept for the laser shows.”

“I agree, but I like the Boston Pops laser show. And the staircase near there that's like piano keys.”

“Yeah, that's fun! I run fast up and down those stairs: woo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo!” Hung's excitement was infectious; it was obvious to Sarisob that Anilton had him on his best behavior.

“You guys, I need to get busy, but I gotta hand it to you: you're a great team! It was nice to meet both of you.” Sarisob thanked Anilton, promised to read the brochure, and turned for the elevators, wincing at his thigh’s incipient bruise. While waiting at the elevator he looked back to see Anilton accepting a coffee from the woman at the neighboring table and Hung awkwardly attempting to tie an American flag bandana around his head. The sight of doughy little Hung in his dress shirt and khakis, struggling with the tri-color bandana was just heartwarming enough of an allegory to convince Sarisob there and then that he would peruse the brochure soon after Mrs. Silvia was through draining his meat. His thoughts returned to his old math teacher, and blood returned to his penis. He could almost smell the chalk dust in her hair—and then his Hall-of-Fame fantasy was briefly eclipsed by the image of Sarisob going down on Anilton. An unbidden, unwanted image for sure, Sarisob entertained it briefly before exchanging it for one of Mrs. Silvia spread-eagled across her desk, his face buried in her crotch. As his erection was well on the rise, he was relieved to be unable to determine which fantasy inspired greater bloodflow.

Returning from the bathroom with a smile on his face, Sarisob put the olive-oil-filled alcohol nip back in his desk. He dialled up some Chopin and took the Big Brother/Big Sister brochure from his bag. Looking at the pictures of kids on the cover, Sarisob thought of his own unremarkable childhood in New Bedford. Sarisob was spoiled—as only children are wont to be—by his mother Monique, who was able to be a stay-at-home mom thanks to his father, Roger Sarisob, who supported his family by working two jobs. Sarisob's bond with his dad was forged primarily through helping in Roger's garden, which filled every inch of their small backyard and spilled over into the backyard of their neighbor Mr. Pereira, who allowed the expansion in exchange for all the snap peas he could pick and a few bags of tomatoes. Roger worked nights in the pressroom of the Standard-Times and part-time on Sundays cleaning the Gormley School, which was Sarisob's grammar school. Both Roger and Monique are proud of their Matthew, the first one in the family to graduate college—with a Master's degree to boot! Being devout Christians, they aren't as proud of his adamantly agnostic beliefs, but are pleased that their son has devoted his life to Service.

It was Monique who was Sarisob's best childhood friend. Monique was unable to have any more children due to complications during Sarisob's delivery, and lavished him with more caring tenderness than she thought herself capable. While her husband slept, or tended his plants, she took her Mattie over to Buttonwood Park to feed the ducks or take out a paddleboat, down to the waterfront for a walk and a malasada, or to his favorite place, Lincoln Park in Dartmouth, where he would ride the kiddie coaster and play Skee Ball until she dragged him away in tears. He had a few good friends while attending school at the Gormley and later at Bishop Stang High, but his best childhood friends were books. (To this day he returns home each January to take Monique to a couple-hours worth of the annual reading of “Moby Dick” at the Whaling Museum.) Overall Sarisob was pleased with his childhood years, and seldom felt that he had lost out by not having a sibling thanks to his loving, solicitous mother.

But what about those children who didn't have a Monique to make them their nucleus? he thought. He thought of little Hung, and how fortunate he was to have such a virtuous role model like Anilton in his life. Maybe he could play such a role for another child? I may not be as good-looking, or virtuous, the self-critical Sarisob thought, but I do have something to give. He knew his mother's greatest hope was for a grandchild—he wanted that more than she did—but in the absence of Ms. Right perhaps she'd be pleased to know he was honing his parenting skills. It was then that he decided to look up the Big Brother/Big Sister website and fill out out the application form. But he wasn't able to do so at that time because of the soft thud outside his door, and the sound of the zipper. Steve Iannelli was his usual 15 minutes early for his appointment, and was reading The Economist outside his office. Steve was having a tough time with his prostate cancer, and was still unable to control his urine three weeks after Dr. Howley said he should have regained normal function. Something was wrong, and Dr. Howley's mere implication of a second surgery sent Steve through the roof, and therefore to Sarisob. He smelled of urine, and had serious anger issues which were perfectly reasonable given his situation. OK Sarisob, he thought after printing out the BB/BS application, time to earn your keep. He sprayed M9 odor neutralizer in all corners of his office, and welcomed Steve a few minutes early.

*************************************************

On behalf of Sarisob and myself, I'd like to wish all our readers a Happy Holidays and share a great holiday lyric from Jackson Browne. -Andrew, Sarisob's authorized biographer...

Jackson Browne - "The Rebel Jesus"
Original recording from the Chieftains's album "The Bells Of Dublin"

All the streets are filled with laughter and light
And the music of the season
And the merchants' windows are all bright
With the faces of the children
And the families hurrying into their homes
As the sky darkens and freezes
Will be gathering around the hearths and tables
Giving thanks for God's graces
And the birth of the rebel Jesus

Well they call him by 'the Prince of Peace'
And they call him by 'the Savior'
And they pray to him upon the seas
And in every bold endeavor
And they fill his churches with their pride and gold
As their faith in him increases
But they've turned the nature that I worship in
From a temple to a robber's den
In the words of the rebel Jesus

We guard our world with locks and guns
And we guard our fine possessions
And once a year when Christmas comes
We give to our relations
And perhaps we give a little to the poor
If the generosity should seize us
But if any one of us should interfere
In the business of why they are poor
They get the same as the rebel Jesus

But pardon me if I have seem
To take the tone of judgement
For I've no wish to come between
This day and your enjoyment
In the life of hardship and of earthly toil
There's a need for anything that frees us
So I bid you pleasure
And I bid you cheer
From a heathen and a pagan
On the side of the rebel Jesus