The Journey Back

Brothers

A loud sound echoed around his head. Was it his phone’s alarm? He reached blindly for it. He couldn’t find it. He slumped back and his head hit the hard floor. He jerked upward and after a few blinks realized where he was. He was sitting on the marble floor and looking at the orange-pink hue of the sky through the open arched windows. To his left, the Mu’adhdhin was making the call for prayer. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and realized he must have dozed of unawares. It was strange; he thought he was at home already. He wondered if the conversation with Grandma really happened.

He left the masjid after the prayer and twilight found him heading for home. As soon as he appeared in front of the gate, a commotion ran among the household. Everyone, especially Grandma, was pulling him and hugging him thinking he must have gotten lost in the woods or something. As of that moment, Grandma barely knew English. It was a dream, he thought.

He was sitting down on the sofa while Uncle Macky talked incessantly to someone on the cell phone and finally handed Raza the phone. He looked questioningly at him but placed it near his ear.

“Hello?” choked a woman on the other line.

“Mom?”

“Raza! Oh my God. Where have you been? We were worried sick of you. What were you thinking?” She was crying already.

“I’m back now. You don’t need to worry.” The crying didn’t stop.

“Mom, geez, stop crying. I’m absolutely fine.” After seemingly a long time, his mother slowly recovered.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, sniffing.

“I feel so pathetic,” he said honestly. He rose from the chair and went outside. No one stopped him. They understood he needed the privacy.

“I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Mom.”

“I hope you’re not blaming your father for this…” her voice trailed away.

“Don’t worry I’m not. I just need to take everything very slow.”

“You’re not mad at us?”

It took him a while to think what to say. “No. I don’t think so.”

That night he tossed and turned on the mattress under the mosquito net. He tried to sleep with thoughts buzzing around his head. Eventually, fatigue took over and he was finally asleep around two in the morning.

He preferred to eat after everyone had finished. They seem to equally prefer it that way. The household was unusually quiet that morning. It was Grandma who served him pancakes and sweet cocoa drink and left him to his solitude. Grandpa was nowhere in sight; evidently, he went fishing with others.

“Can we talk?” It was Jamil who approached him on the kitchen after having his breakfast alone.

“Lead the way.” He led him down the wooden boardwalk to its edge. Agar-agar was being sundried on one corner. Jamil sat just as he sat on the night that they first talked, only his feet did not dangle above the waters, it rested on a ladder that led down to the water. Grandpa’s boats were nowhere in sight.

“They told me the truth when I was seven,” Jamil started. Raza only stood there, hands clasped behind him. He didn’t want to sit down.

“I grew up thinking my aunt’s my mom and her husband’s my dad. I told you she’s like my second mom. She practically nursed me too. Then one day, they told me. It hurt me, you know. I was so young and it confused me.”

“I tried to run away but I really couldn’t get that far. It took me very long to acknowledge the truth. Baba…” he stopped uncomfortably. So he, like Raza, was taught to call their father that way.  “He tried to bring me to Singapore but I didn’t want too—I can’t bear the thought of parting with the parents who raised me. But when I became more mature, I slowly accepted it. Having a different mother and father doesn’t mean I should forget those who took care of me.”

“Maybe he wanted to tell you the truth but can’t find the right time to tell you. Maybe he wanted to wait until you get a little bit older,” Jamil explained, looking straight at the sea.

“I may be too young but I’m too old to understand I can’t do anything about it…”

“You don’t need to warmly welcome me to the family, Raz,” Jamil interrupted, trying to act indifferent, but somehow Raza felt like he was deeply hurt.

“It’s not that you’re not welcome. I just hope you wouldn’t think I will act all brotherly with you,” Raza said carefully.

“I know. But I also hope you wouldn’t leave this place with indignation. You’ll be leaving tomorrow after all.” Suddenly Raza remembered. Jamil was right; he was going to leave tomorrow.

“I don’t blame you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Raza said hesitantly.

“I never thought that of you. Somehow I know, inside, you’re very understanding. Baba did the right thing in raising you.”

Raza caught himself. He looked at Jamil who was still calmly looking at the sea which was a deep blue. Would it hurt him to have an older brother? Would little Rhea like him too? How long will it take him to finally call him ‘brother’?

“What did you feel when you found out you have a brother and sister?” Raza asked curiously.

“They said I saw you when I was a kid. Your parents brought you here. Probably that was the time when nobody told me about my real parents. Like I said, I only accepted things when I got a little mature. I already knew, what was waiting was a confirmation from me. It’s when I acknowledged who my real father was that I acknowledged my father’s other family.”

“So you’ll understand if I acknowledge you but it’ll take a little more time to get used to?” Raza asked, fixing his gaze on him.

“Some things are very hard at the beginning. But once you get the hang of it, it will be as easy as A-B-C. I know you will find it in your heart to accept me. I hope you don’t forget that before we were brothers, we were friends first.”

 He stood up from where he was sitting. He was shorter than Raza but he still patted him on the shoulder and he retraced his steps back to the kitchen, leaving Raza to ponder on his words.