RAVI (formerly Indie-America)

36

  (((Edited•)))

  On my birthday I wake up to find a pillow soaked with tears. My eyes are a narrow line and the bags are larger than the eyes themselves. I can't see clearly because of this but mostly because it was not actually time for me to wake up.
My mother disrupted my clock by waking me up by 5:30 instead of my normal 11. I mean for Christ sake's it's a free Thursday.
"Sweetheart open your eyes." Mum says softly and I reluctantly oblige. She pulls me slowly from my bed and I gather enough sense to ask her why I'm awake before the cockcrow.

"I wanted to show you something. It's best seen at this time." She says and she wipes my eyes once again even though I didn't request for it. I recognize my mother's voice. It is different from her normal alto tone and it's taken a higher but softer tone. It's the tone she uses whenever it's my birthday. The day she sees all too well the resemblance between Rohan and I.

I follow her silently as she leads me upstairs towards my art studio. I realize belatedly that i haven't had as much time as usual to paint so the studio is kinda free from new canvases. Most of the old paintings have been sold or gifted out. Only the prettiest remain.

"I went through your stuff." Mum announces and I shrug. Unlike most American teens my age I didn't freak out after finding out any of my parents saw my things. Or deliberately looked through them. I usually invited them to do it actually.
"And I saw some paintings." She continues and I notice she's trying to piece the words in the right place. I think back to my paintings, did I paint something odd?

"There was one that was quite odd," she answers like she's reading my mind. "Here it is." She produces the painting from the corner by the window and the first thing I note is that it's small. Of course I remember what I painted on it. Now I wish mum never saw it.

"Ravi this is Rohan right?" She points to the black silhouette in the painting. I colored nobody in the painting, only the sun kissed horizon but it was quite clear the person beside me was a boy whose hair fell so easily the curls were visible. I stared at the painting for so long I almost forgot where I was.

"It's beautiful Ravi." Mom says, pulling me out of my reverie.
"Yeah I guess."

She grabs a stool and makes me sit down on it. For the first time I notice the bags under my mother's eyes. She's been overworking herself.
"You were always the better painter." She says but it sounds like she's talking to herself instead of me.
"He tried but he just couldn't reach my standards." I joke and she lets out a soft chuckle.

"But for reals mum what are we doing here?" I ask when I can't it anymore and mum takes a deep breath.

"When your brother died it was a terrible period for everyone of us. I remember waking up to you girls crying in your rooms. I remember feeling this void in my heart. Nothing gave me joy except my family and even that wasn't enough for me. As time went by everyone one of us voiced our feelings, our anger, regret and whatever else we could say." She pauses for effect and reaches to hold my hand in hers.

"But Ravi dear, you've never spoken about it. You clearly avoid the topic. And i get that you're hurt but that Isn't the best way to deal with grief honey. Since Rohan's death I've watched you shrink slowly into a shadow of your former self. Doing nothing except read, eat and sleep. I remember you would go out on all these crazy adventures with your brother and Teddy. You would come back with all sorts of injuries and I would scold you but honestly Ravi I want you to go back out there and come home with a broken hand if necessary.

"I want you to live. You deserve that much, you deserve to be happy too. Rohan wouldn't want to see you like this, he would want to see you dancing around the field. Or playing the piano, or that cello you could never carry. Please just come back."