16:30AM, Friday
Fridays were always bitter sweet for me. Albeit, more bitter than sweet but when you're depressed, I suppose anything is enough to get you by. The sweet savoury joy of some relief some school was joyous, to top it of, I almost always got a visit from someone I looked up to. My brother, Antony.
Almost always.
"What time do you think he'll be here?", I questioned impatiently.
My mother looked towards me, her expression slightly miffed. She went back to watching her show before answering me in a monotonous tone. "I don't know. He said he'd be here two hours ago so it seems unlikely."
My breath caught as panic struck me. The thought for him not coming made my hear contort painfully and I felt like vomiting. My mind began to race, trying to come up with logical explanations for his poor punctuality. One bothersome thought kept surfacing and I hated it. I absolutely loathed myself for thinking it.
Does he not want to see me?
I felt my eyes glaze with tears and I sniffed my nose slowly to try calm myself down.
"Do you want to call him?", she asked, still distracted.
"Please?". She handed me her phone with his number dialed and I put I to my ear. Every anticipated moment that passed without any answer was like a knife to the heart. After an eternity, it finally went to voice mail.
Does he not want to see me?
I handed back the phone miserably. She took it, glancing directly into my glazed eyes and she kept her gaze there for a second. A sigh followed. "I'm sure he'll be here soon. The probably just needed extra time to pack.", she reassured. I knew it was just an empty promise of reassurance but it was all I got and hearing someone say it comforted me somewhat.
I tuned on my heel and headed off to my room to do my homework.
18:00PM
My mind raced back and forth, pondering on anything I could've done to upset him the previous week. Or the week before. Or before that. My need to at least figure out something I might very done made me shake uncontrollably as I lay atop my bed, my pillow slightly moist from crying.
This might seem a bit over exaggerated and looking back, I can almost certainly agree.
But, back then, I didn't really have any friends. Actually, I had none at all. The only person in my life that I got along with was my brother and the only thing that go me through every week was the thought of seeing him at the end. He was my motivation and I'd often vividly image him coming through the doorway, a smile on his face as he called out to me wanting to play or talk to me.
The happiness from just the thought would often be enough to have me smiling all day at times. He took up time the majority of my fond memories. Playing with him, teasing one another, our occasional fights. Not the violent ones but the fun ones.
My world revolved around him.
Three gentle, but firm knocks with a hesitant hard knock grabbed my attention. It was his knock. My heart felt a lot lighter, the ominous and troubling weight lifted. I felt my entire demeanour change as I jumped out of my bead and sprinted happily to the door.
"I got it, ma.", I shouted joyfully.
Stopping just in front of it, I took a moment to wipe my tears away and compose myself. With a grin on my face and a spring in my movements, I opened the door and swung swung wide open.
I made to get his backpack for him but he stopped my advance with an irritable shrug past me. I felt hurt, but I didn't let it get me down.
"You want anything? There's soda and some stuff that dad got.", I suggested to try lighten his mood.
I loved our relationship back then. We never really spoke about what bothered us. I can't even recall one moment. I tried a bit in the past but after serveral failed attemtps, I gave up. For me, weirdly, that was the bet thing ever.
Sure, I wanted someone I could talk to about everything that was going on but I was just happy he at least spoke to me and we had fun together. As long as he brought me happiness, I didn't feel the urge to want to get those things out. I just wanted to be acknowledged by him and enjoy the moment.
"No, I'm fine.", he responded, his tone a little peeved as he rushed towards the our room. I could tell where this was going and I wanted too avoid it at all costs.
Anthony as the kind of person took isolate himself when he was upset so keeling this in mind, I knew he'd shut the door and wouldn't talk too of any on that came in once he did. The thought had me trembling as I hastily tried to figure out a way to stop him but my mind drew a blank.
"Do you need anything?", I timidly asked, hopeful that there was some way I could better his mood.
"Just fucking leave me alone.", he commanded angrily before shutting he door.
Déjà vu of the moment I stood outside that classroom came back to me.
