Two Lifetimes to Protect You

My brother was born with a saint's heart. He couldn't even bring himself to step on an ant.

I was born the devil's spawn. At three, I was already puncturing a bully's bike tires.

He married his bride and loved her to the bone, and when she asked for a divorce, he signed the papers smiling.

It wasn't until later that I learned the truth—that woman took his kidney-donation agreement and used it to save her first love.

When my brother died, he was clutching their wedding photo. On the back he'd written: Don't blame her, little sister.