Just us against the world.

PART ONE

  Mother was always strong and fiery; I've always respected her spirit; she always knew what she wanted, nothing else. Her voice was broad and could shake the sea, yet at times, it could be kind and gentle, like a wind caressing the grass, whispering: It's alright, I'm here.

  When I was 10, dad got addicted to gambling. He'd win some money every now and then, and we'd go out to celebrate. But other times, he was just giving our money away, trying to win it back. The hole he dug just got deeper and deeper. Useless fool, mother would call him. One day he had almost lost all our money in a bet, until mother had to drag him out of there; that was the first time I had ever seen her cry. Marius and I went to comfort her, but she waved us away, saying, a real man doesn't make a woman cry. My young mind could not comprehend her logic. Wasn't daddy always a man?

  Then, a week after the incident, dad came into our room. Marius and I had been playing with dolls but he put them aside, gently. He told us how much he loved us and cared for us, before asking if we preferred him or mommy. Marius and I answered truthfully. That night, I swear I could hear him weeping. The next day, mother had packed our bags, and we moved to America to start our lives anew.

  Time passed like a branch in a stream of water; like a hat in the wind; like a pebble falling off a steep cliff. Year after year, Marius and I became older and more mature. When I was 16, and he was 17, when mother got diagnosed with cancer. Her eyes became less alert, and her movements slower and less bold. Soon, her fiery spirit had burned out; Marius and I couldn't believe it. Wasn't mother always so strong and spirited? Surely she would prevail. But we watched as she got weaker and weaker as the days went by. We would visit her in the hospital as much as we could, and I could see from her weak smile on her face that she appreciated that. But Marius became more and more reluctant to go and one day he just decided not to. I don't think he didn't love mother — in fact, he loved her too much that it hurt to watch her life fade away in a hospital ward.

  So I started visiting mother alone. In the day, I tried my best to make her happy. At night, Marius and I cried ourselves to sleep. He was my source of comfort, because I knew that he was going through the same thing too. That his love for mother was the same as mine. That his pain was relatable.

  I visited mother again one day, the doctors and nurses were more busy than usual; the hospital felt more like a fish market rather than a place for rest. I sat next to mother and we talked. Even though her cheeks hollowed in, she was still beautiful. Then, she held my hand weakly and said, "Be brave and strong, my darling Claire. Brave and strong. Okay?"

  "Okay", I replied. Her hands were cold and wrinkled, and I knew that she didn't have much time left. "I love you, mama, and Marius wants me to tell you that he loves you too..."

  In the middle of the night, she flatlined. I was 18, and Marius was 19.

  I cried. I grieved. I sought comfort in my relatives and friends. I tried to seek out dad, but he didn't show up at her funeral. I don't blame him. Of all people, why mother? I asked. Why her? To think that such a beautiful soul was gone from the world pained me, angered me, even. I whispered, repeatedly, "Brave and strong, Claire, brave and strong." But still, tears still continued to fill up my eyes, pouring down like a broken dam. I cried my heart out until there were no more tears left in me, but even that did not bring her back.

  I think a part of me died with her.

  But Marius gone in a different direction. He refused to talk to anyone for an entire month when we lived in sadness, even me. He kept everything to himself, including his emotions. We lived under the same roof, and I could tell that his heart was growing cold and hard; his face became unsmiling, and his eyes, sunken. Where's the Marius I once knew? I would ask. Where's the Marius who used to laugh when I laughed and cried when I cried? I knew that he was still in there, somewhere, buried deep underneath the hardened shell my brother chose to hide himself under.

  I needed him; we needed each other. We were alone and stranded in the states. It was just us against the world.