Photo by Askar Abayev
If I'd been told six years ago that I would need Jon, my brother, I would deny it.
Wait, I did deny it then. Now it's real.
I'm at a fast food restaurant and my heart can't stop pounding. The air is crisp and chilly with mist in the atmosphere. The afternoon sun seems to struggle to penetrate the haze and bring some warmth. I rub my palms together and blow some air into them. It doesn't relieve my anxiety. Who knew reunions could be this hard?
But he's my brother. And do you remember what drove you both apart? My conscience steps in at this point. The former me would have frowned at this intrusion.
"Madam, are you ready to make your order?" A young waitress asks, folding her notepad. I manage a smile and shake my head. "Not yet. I'm expecting someone." She nods and leaves me to my melancholy thoughts.
I scan the street around the restaurant. I chose the table outside. I can breathe easier. And I will see Jon when he approaches, gauge his thoughts from his look and know my fate.
I chew on my dry lips. Jon warned me six years ago but I did not listen. Lucas was perfect to me. He could do no wrong. They were good friends from high school and on the same basketball team. Why couldn't I see then that Jon knew Lucas better?
Right after our parents passed in a car crash, Lucas was the shoulder I leaned on. Jon and I fought every time. It was hard for me to accept that my life had changed and I was no longer the baby of the house. It was time to grow up.
Jon was ready to help me but I couldn't stand to be close to him. His voice was the same as dad's. He laughed just like mum, displaying the same dimple on one cheek. It was too much. So I moved in with Jon, after all, I was eighteen and legally an adult.
Jon fought with Lucas and their friendship ended. Jon begged me not to leave. "You don't know this guy like I do, Kamala."
"I do know him!" I screamed back. "You are being too hard on him, just as you are with me."
Jon was shocked. "I'm trying to protect you. Mom and Dad would not be happy about this." That was the last straw. Bringing their memory into our quarrel.
"They won't be happy with you," I said, poking his chest. "I'm leaving. Don't call me, Jon. Just let me live my life. You live yours—"
"If you leave, don't ever come back," he said with tears in his eyes. I think my heart stopped at that moment but I was too stubborn to acknowledge it. I could see the pain I caused in his eyes.
"I won't!" I screamed again and left. It was like I was on a high —Lucas' high. Nothing made sense, only Lucas.
I was emerging from adolescence into adulthood. I felt love-starved and Lucas gave me what I wanted. He was always around me, even in my thoughts until what we had began to fizzle out. He left me on the streets and moved out of the city.
Now, I'm back with my tails tucked between my legs.
I called Jon several times and he didn't pick up or return my calls. The matron at the women's shelter was sympathetic and allowed me to stay for a few nights until I could find another place to stay.
I kept calling. Finally, he picked and we agreed to meet.
I drop my head in shame, my chin hitting my chest and pray Jon listens to me without judgement.
Even if he judges me, I will not hold it against him. I just want my brother and my only family back. I want my life back.
Someone clears his throat beside me.
I realise my eyes are closed. I glance up and look into Jon's piercing amber eyes —my dad's eyes. I gasp silently and shiver in my chair.
My hands shake and my stomach is in knots at the sight of my brother. He's taller and well-built, just like our father. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down, but it's no use. I'm too nervous. I try to stand but my legs are unsteady and my chair shakes.
"Sit," Jon says firmly, his voice deep and commanding. I quickly sit down. He draws out a chair and sits across from me, his eyes cold. I almost burst into tears as I imagine my dad giving me the same look of disappointment.
We stare at each other for a while. He must notice the bag under my eyes and the surrounding dark circles that betray painful, sleepless nights, my bony form in clothes that are a little too big for me and my unkempt hair.
"What do you want, Kamala?" He asks, his voice cold and distant.
The tears pool in my eyes. I blink and try to speak. Nothing comes out. I do not know where to begin. I look down at the ground instead for a long moment.
Then Jon stands up. My heart stops in fear. I raise my head and hurriedly stand up to stop him from leaving me, even if I have to hold onto his legs and beg. I can't lose the only family I have left.
Jon moves towards me with his arms spread out. I'm paralyzed with shock. He gives me a slight smile and pulls me into a warm embrace.
"I'd hoped you would call me earlier than now," he said.
My frail body shakes as I sob uncontrollably. "I - I…He - Lucas—" I try to speak.
"I don't want to hear it," Jon says.
"I'm sick, Jon. Diabetes. I - I need you." I blabber, my nose running as tears stream down my face. Jon looks at me for what felt like an eternity, his expression unreadable.
"I know a great vegan restaurant. We eat and then go to the hospital," he replies, holding me in the crook of his arm as we walk towards the parking lot.