Forgiveness

It's been three years since my brother passed away and I cut off all contact with my parents. He would've turned twenty-four today, and on his request, I could've taken time off my job to go to the same place where both of us had found a home. Not anymore.

He would always smile and shake his head whenever I apologized to him for being late. "I am just happy that I get you all to myself for a day to annoy the hell out of you." I'd flick his forehead and we would walk to our school where we spent fourteen years of our life to meet his favourite teachers.

I liked the building, and he, the people. The building has changed a lot, and there is no one to accompany me, so I've ceased to go there. I drove him around our school, looking at the park behind it, his friend's place that he often used to run off to, leaving me all alone for which I'd give him the silent treatment. I had to walk home alone while his friend's mom dropped him off.

I loved taking walks when I had somebody to walk with and forget all about my surroundings. Since the school was on the main road, whenever I had to walk alone I'd dread the whole thing; Pretending not to see parents picking their children up, the hustle-bustle in the afternoon outside school where the van students would terrorize the parking area, while the bus students terrorized the waiting area inside the school.

I didn't mind being alone, I hated being looked at as if I was a loner, with no one to talk with me, laugh with me, hold my hand, and protect me. But I couldn't hold back the person I cared for in the world from being truly happy. He had people in his life for whom he could leave me behind, I didn't mind that. If I gave him the silent treatment for anything, he didn't waste time in apologizing and buying me my favourite ice-cream. We didn't get pocket money, so he'd get his friend to buy ice-cream for himself, lying about the favour he liked and bring it for me back home. I always told him off for it because I didn't want his friend to look down upon him.

"I help him with his homework all the time, it's the least he can do for me."

"But you never buy your friend anything, what if he brings this up someday?"

"It's not like I don't want to, it's because I can't that he doesn't mind it. Don't think about it too much!"

Once, I was walking past his class when I saw him standing outside, which seemed like a punishment. I was definitely disappointed, and after hearing his reasoning which was one of complete disbelief, made my blood boil.

"I thought you meant helping your friend with difficult subjects was the help you offered!"

"Well, it was just this once that I lied to the teacher to save him! We don't do this often."

"I can't believe you! Do you even care about your image in front of the teachers?!"

"Look who's talking about image," This brat had the audacity to roll his eyes at me. "You should really mind your own business. What were you even doing there when your class is at the top floor?"

"Oh, am I not allowed to walk by wherever I please?"

"Please, don't walk by class anymore, I couldn't care less if you skipped classes."

We gave each other the silent treatment for a week after that, our parents, of course, noticed nothing during that time. We made up when he got to know the washrooms at my floor aren't clear enough. Obviously, I lied but on the brighter side, I didn't have to apologize first.

He was better than me at everything, even at pretending to be fine even when he wasn't. No wonder, he was able to fool me so well. He must've thought his whole life that I didn't really care about him just because I didn't know him enough. He had a lot of love to give and so, lying to the teachers to save his friend from being punished for the nth number of times was one of the things that came easily to him. If I were him, I'd have dropped such friends long ago, the only difference being, I wasn't him and I didn't have friends.

I depended too much on him, emotionally and mentally, physically, he was always getting hurt so he depended on me instead. He pretended to, at least, and that was everything for me. I remember this one time when our mother threw burning tongs at him because he asked for permission to go on a field trip. He ended up hurting his toes on the left foot badly, and I tended to his injury.

"It's gotten swollen so bad, how bad did the tongs hit you?"

"Very bad."

"Why are you smiling then, brat?"

"I like it when you're caring for me."

"I'm always caring for you," I said as I flicked his forehead.

"Did something happen while I was away?"

"Yes, had I known you were going to ask her for money, I'd have stopped you."

"I didn't ask her for money, only for her permission. What happened, though?"

"You probably know what happened, don't change the subject. How would you have arranged the money?"

"My friend's mom offered-"

"Oh my god, do you not feel embarrassed? Not just your friend but now his mother too…How much do they know?"

"Thanks for this," He pointed at his left foot and dashed out the room while shouting, "And I didn't share any details!

"You, brat!"

The only thing I didn't like about him was how easily he poured his heart out to people who made him feel like they're trustworthy even if they weren't. This one time, he vented his feelings to the school counselor who promised not to share anything he said with anyone else. Except our parents during the parent-teacher meeting. He stayed at his friend's place following that event and so, I had to bear all the scolding.

"Why do you both keep making my life miserable? Is it not enough for you to get an education peacefully that you have to go ahead and cause this mess?"

I can say the same thing back to him but I know I might invite a beating if I do so, I didn't retort.

"Where did your brother even go? I've been noticing he's been staying out so much these days?"

Why would someone even stay under the same roof as you after you threw burning hot tongs at him?

"What? Where is he? Tell us this instant."

I had a hunch but I had no other choice and stayed silent for both of our sakes. I know he'll make it up to me later, hence why I'm not angry at him but them. However, I've learnt how not to take what they say to heart anymore.

I stayed silent with my head low while my eyes that were glued to our small family photo frame in the corner of the table got teary. Just for show, that's why it's a small frame. A formality. A façade.

"If he doesn't come back by midnight tonight, you're going to look for him. Don't even think about returning unless he's with you."

Someone might think they're actually worried about him. Ridiculous.

I walked to his friend's place first thing in the morning because there was no way I'd have gotten breakfast, and even if I did, I'd not have been able to eat in peace. It was humiliating because I saw how his friend's mother looked at me with pity instead of surprise, as if she was waiting for me. But then she told me that he had fainted due to light-headedness, and so she didn't feel like dropping him home in that state.

She was a single parent, maybe that's why the calm in her house felt comforting and not suffocating. The photo frames in her house were bigger than the one at our house. The smiles in the pictures didn't look forced, and the way she held her son in her arms in each one of them made me regret coming to their place. On the other hand, I'm glad I came. My brother needs me more than anyone.

"I'm sorry for the trouble he's caused you. Where is he?"

"Don't be sorry, I understand. And he's in the same room as Ved, out of any danger."

Out of danger? You have no idea… What would you even understand anyway? You look happier than my mother, is this how it is to have no man in a household?

"I need to take him back home. Our parents are worried." Obviously, she didn't buy what I said in such a flat voice but I was trying my best not to stammer. Her expression remained that of worry. "Will it be fine when you take him?"

Her hesitation gave away her wariness. She didn't trust me, and I'm only a by-product of my parents. "Yes, it'll be fine."

The walk back home was strange. The weather was fine, the streets gave away their hustle-bustle, but the air between us reeked of silent tension. Even an oblivious passer-by could've noticed it. We were a few steps away from our place when he decided to break the silence.

"Did they hit you?" Even in that situation, he asked about me first. Both of us could guess what scene would unfold once we reached the place our parents had given us shelter in, but he asked about me first. He felt guilty, I could see. Why shouldn't he? This wasn't the first time he had left me behind and I let him, as always. Until he couldn't anymore.

It wasn't even his fault that he got involved with bad company, adopted their habits, copied them to escape somewhere, wherever they liked, temporarily though. Between us, nothing changed. He remained my source of happiness till the end. Even on his deathbed, I was the only one he smiled at for the last time. I think about it every day without fail. I don't recall it suddenly, I make an effort to think about him every day, his last smile, his last word.

I was at work that day, my mind in chaos, my heart racing due to lack of sleep, and each time I thought I'd written something readable, I clicked backspace. I wasn't satisfied with the article I had to turn in a day after. Even though I'd gotten a week for it, I couldn't help but procrastinate. Thinking that I was experiencing a terrible writer's block, I texted my senior to let her know that the article might take a bit longer. She wasn't someone who let things slide easily, but I was also not someone who asked for extensions of deadlines often, maybe that's why she let me be that time. I always wonder if my gut instincts were trying to warn me of something, maybe they were.

I see the text I had sent him the night before to which he hadn't replied by then. He usually replied to texts faster than I did. Thinking that the college stress was getting to him, I decided not to probe and let him take his time to reply. Because, I wouldn't have the energy to listen to him, or anybody else as a matter of fact that day. I wish I hadn't neglected the signs.

I didn't want to go back home and listen to my parents nagging right from the afternoon, so I planned to drive back and take the longer route home. I wasn't used to driving on that route because I would often find traffic, but that day, something in me told me not to follow my monotonous routine. By the time I reached home, 2 hours had passed and I was even more exhausted. Worried that I'd not be able to enjoy the peace and calm once I reached home, I was compelled to pass time at the park, a few blocks away from my parents' home.

Although I had gotten a job right after graduation, I didn't earn enough to buy a place near my office because places near my office were expensive. And I didn't have the heart to rent out a place for myself because my brother would have been left all alone to put up with our parents. My parents would have told me off as well, not that I'd have cared much about them, I just wanted to avoid drama for my brother's sake.

My brother and I rarely ran into each other during daytime; He'd leave for college as early as 7:15 am, whereas I had the privilege of getting up around that time. We sat together to have dinner together but didn't talk a lot though, not about personal things around our parents. Whenever our parents said something which would set the tension off in the room, we both just gave each other a knowing look, just like the old times. This was one of the things that didn't change about us as a whole. As a whole, we didn't change much, individually is another thing.

He got quieter and more reserved but I didn't point it out ever, thinking that he had just matured. I thought he came to behave this way with his friends too, I was so wrong though. At his funeral, his childhood friend that I used to be wary of talked to me, probably to comfort me because it seemed like I was the only one who didn't know things used to go down during the time I wasn't at home. He'd come back early from college only to leave after our parents told him off.

They were never considerate of our feelings. I don't even know why they didn't give us up for adoption if they hated us so much. We were just punching bags for them. I expected a reaction from them when I had announced in a rage that I'd never want to see their faces again, they just let me be. I assumed that they were in a shock, but they never cared for us so it was all a show for the relatives who attended the funeral. But I was…sort of relieved that they let me be.

I felt guilty for leaving them behind in such a time but obviously, not for long. It took some time to free myself from the awful memories of that house we called 'home' in front of others. I've still not healed from the holes their words left in my heart but, it's okay. At least, I don't blame myself for choosing myself over them for once. My decision not to move out was affected a little by their presence, even though it was toxic. I had gotten used to it; without it, nothing eventful would be happening in my life. I kept telling myself that blood was thicker than water because not leaving their shadows for almost my whole life made me scared of the world outside. If my parents weren't kind to me, then who would be? They didn't like me, all right, but I at least had a roof over my head. Things between them were so bad that I couldn't even talk things out with my mother to know where it all went wrong. The last time I can remember when 'home' hadn't become a house till then and 'us' didn't mean only my brother and I, but my parents and my younger sibling was when… never mind. I've forgotten details, it's been that long. I can only remember faces with genuine smiles on them. Little did little me know that things would only go downhill from there. As a child, I tried to emotionally support myself by thinking that it was all okay, that all families have fights. As a teen, I couldn't care less about them both. As an adult, I accepted that they would never change. But he couldn't accept it. And I had no idea.

So, when I received a call from his number that day, I felt elated. "He's free for once?" I said to no one as I picked up the call, only to hear his friend's shaky voice trying to tell me through tears that he had fainted and was admitted to XXX hospital. I tried to stay calm and told myself that, just like that one time when he had fainted at his friend's place, this was similar to that time. I told myself that his friend was dramatic and that there was nothing to be scared of. I told myself not to expect the worst because it seemed impossible. My brother was stronger than I, emotionally and physically. But, not mentally, and I found this out only when he left me behind, once again. A slight difference since then, though: Forever.

Chronic stress can lead to heart diseases? Pathetic. I refused to believe that bullshit as a young adult. I used to think stress could cause one's hairline to recede, fluctuation in weight, mood swings, anything but a heart disease. Sure, it can affect the heart but to the extent of causing a heart disease seemed ridiculous to me. And then, the universe gave me an example. Through someone close to me. Stress didn't kill him; they did. Why did it have to be him? Why not one of them? It could've been them and I wouldn't have shed a tear, that's what I think now. Someone with so much love in his heart was ruined because of people who had none in theirs. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget, let alone forgive them for anything. This is the least I can do for him, for I couldn't do anything about them till he was alive. I couldn't stand up to them, thinking that one day, he and I would be out of the house together, living away from them in peace. This is exactly why one should think carefully before wishing for anything.

After he passed and my anxiety worsened, I thought my death was nearing, too, and I was neutral about it. But I'm still alive, dead, but alive. I thought my presence was enough for him as his was for me, but maybe, somewhere along the line, I became like them, too. Negligent. Inconsiderate. He was my happiness ever since I realized it was too much for my parents to take that responsibility. I thought I was his too, but I was so wrong. I couldn't become his happiness and so he died. He couldn't be saved and it was all their fault. Whom shan't I forgive?

Regardless of whom I should blame, I know, it's selfish of me to wish for something again. My wish cost him his life. But there's nothing for me to lose anymore, so I'll continue to wish for one last thing: wherever he is, I wish for him to forgive me. For when he does, I'll be with him again. He loved me, that I'm aware of. He didn't have to say anything for that. For that, only. I know, it's selfish of me, but I wish he forgives me, I'll wait till then. Till then, I'll continue to never forgive the people who killed him. That's the only thing I can do for him now, last but also least.