Just Another Night in the Beaton Family

After 9/11, my youngest brother Alex came home from fighting in the war. Claudine, a friend of my mother's, put together a coming-home party for him in Winter Park, Florida. I attended with Carrie Wilfong, my former roommate.

My older brother Will was drunk—practically cross-eyed—and kept urging Alex to show him some of the military moves he had learned. Alex was laughing, repeatedly asking, “Are you sure?” Will kept egging him on.

They didn't just start grappling at the bar. They both got up and walked together to an open area just behind the bar where they had been sitting, near the jukebox, in the space people used for dancing.

Once they were there, Alex demonstrated a chokehold. Will was knocked unconscious almost immediately. He looked dead to me. Alex gently dragged him over and propped him against the jukebox while he was out.

About three minutes later, Will came around. At first, he seemed absolutely fine. He said he felt refreshed, like he'd slept for hours, even though only minutes had passed.

But then the embarrassment set in. As the moments passed, Will became more and more humiliated about what had happened. Eventually he walked back over to Alex, who was at the bar, and sucker-punched him directly in the nose.

Carrie, who worked as a veterinary technician, immediately took care of Alex. That night was the beginning of their relationship. They later married.

I was struck by something else entirely. Watching how quickly Alex could incapacitate someone without leaving visible marks was incredibly validating. It gave me a way to understand what I remembered Brad doing to me.

Only in my family could a coming-home party involve a military demonstration, a brother waking up claiming the best nap of his life, a retaliatory punch in the nose, and the unlikely start of a marriage.