Last week, A came to me with a serious proposition. He wanted his own room. He laid out a careful argument, explaining how his upcoming high school years are going to be vastly different from G’s middle school years and how their interests are so different, that keeping both sets of them contained to one room really isn’t fair to either of them.

There were several other lengthy diatribes about how he should no longer be required to share a room with his younger brother, as they have since they were 3 and 5.

I confess that I tuned out about halfway through, although I did try to be fair and let him state his entire case. When he was finished, I said, bluntly, “your brother annoys you and you want to get away from him, is that what I’m hearing?”

I got the usual eye roll, and then at least he had the decency to seem slightly abashed when he muttered, “yes.”

I didn’t come clean right then and there, but this was not a news flash for me. Or to any of the other residents of our house. The tension that has been building between the brothers over the past few weeks has reached a boiling point on more than one occasion and we’ve either sent them to their corners, (which, as A pointed out, was pointless since they are two corners in the same room) or, in one notable case, I just turned my phone off.

The two of them both have requirements for service hours for Scouts. Faced with the shutdown and also trying to keep A and his congenital heart condition as isolated as possible, it seemed like meeting these requirements was going to be impossible. However, thanks to the local librarian, the boys were able to provide some needed services outside the library and before the library opened, cleaning and dusting shelves, and sorting books that had been sitting for months. It was perfect. It got them out of the house but kept them in an isolated, relatively safe environment for a few hours a week. It wasn’t the 40-hour-a-week job that A had hoped to procure for himself this summer, but at least it was a few hours out of the house and getting something accomplished.

And then, there was the day when an hour after I dropped them off, my phone started going off. The texts were flying. One from A that G was not helping, one from G that A was being bossy, another from A that G wasn’t wearing his mask, another from G that A was cursing at him.

First, I was furious. If they were texting me, it meant they couldn’t possibly be operating the shovels and rakes as they were supposed to be, spreading mulch in the flower beds outside the library. Second, it’s one thing when the battles are at home, but to have one in public, practically on Broad Street, was too much. I sent one text to both to knock it off, get to work and we would discuss when we got home. And, then, my phone went to off. I was sure they were still going at it, but there wasn’t a darn thing I could do, and continuing to let them think that they were getting through to me on the phone wasn’t helping them get back to work either. So, I was determined to ignore them.

A few minutes passed and I started to have a small panic attack. What if something did actually go wrong with A? It was a hot day and it wasn’t too much to think that he could overdo it. What if G got really mad and just walked away? He’s done it before, although disappearing halfway down the driveway wasn’t such a big deal, especially when Uncle J could see him from his house. Very quickly, the nightmare scenarios unfolded, and then finally, the most likely one, that the librarian would call me to come pick up my ill-behaved brats, convinced me to turn my phone back on.

The Wonderful Husband and I have had many conversations about the deterioration of our boys’ relationship over the past few months. Mostly, we’ve chalked it up to the quarantine fever and the lack of their typical outlets and time spent with friends.

Since school has been out, they have not even had the distraction of going online for a few hours a day to keep them out of each other’s way. They’ve had so little control over everything else that has been happening in the world around them, I understand why A responds to the unknown by organizing everything and keeping order. G responds to the unknown by pushing and ignoring the boundaries as much as he can, and his side of the room is in shambles. A is at that point where he has realized that hygiene is important and has started to worry about things like zits and having his hair just right. G, on the other hand, is still at that point where he feels like he can skip a shower for a few days because he was in the pool and no one will notice. While the other three of us are alternately annoyed and amused by their individual shenanigans, their proximity has put them on the outs with each other constantly.

Lately, our conversations have turned to “what if this is going to be their relationship forever?” I am reluctant to let A move out right now because I am worried that if they don’t heal their rift and learn how to get along again, they will go back into their regular orbits and never find their way back to each other. I’ve also realized the futility of trying to force them to be best friends. That will surely doom whatever tenuous friendship they may still have.

The other night, as I went to bed, I noticed a light on under the boys’ door. Surprised, because I thought G had gone to bed earlier, and knowing that A was still up playing on the computer, I opened the door to see what was going on. G was just about asleep. As I went over to turn out the light, he sleepily said, “leave that on, A isn’t in bed yet.”

The next morning, I asked A if he needed that light on, and he said, “Oh, G always leaves that one for me, so I don’t trip over his stuff.” Amused that neither of them could see how this simple little act gave me incredible hope that they will always manage to find a way to work together, even if they’re oblivious to it.

In the meantime, I have devised a lengthy list of projects and situations that need to be completed before the spare bedroom is ready for A or G to move into it solo. I am hoping that by the time those projects are completed, A is just about ready to leave for college, or that they will decide that it’s just too much work and getting along will be easier.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.