I wake up (again) confusedly. A part of me fully aware that his mother really has called me. I try calling him, too, but me, too, can't reach him. Even the signal can't reach him, the operator says.
Where the hell is he? I thought to myself.
I suppress my overreacting worry that happens to pop out in times like this. The last time my brother couldn't be contacted, I went as far as mentioning two of his friends in Twitter. Embarrassing myself, I know, especially when none of his contacted friends reply my mention. But my brother is my responsibility as the older sister. Hendra?
Still, the thought of him can't seem to let myself fully at ease. What possibly happens that made his mom call me? I told mine and she said that it means his mother needs him. It doesn't mean he's missing, I know. But before my mom told me this, I couldn't stop myself from thinking he went missing. Instantly, I feel the urgent need to know his whereabouts.
He was once like this, you know.
He left without noticing anyone for a night, but this was not so much worrying as his mother did not bother to call me. Turned out he went out for a walk with his so-called best friend, also one of my own. This had made things rather messy between us.
* * *
It was a night in 2009.
I couldn't recall when it was exactly, but I remember the scenes. He was having a trouble. Something he wouldn't tell me or anyone. But it was clear to me that he thought Facebook was his diary. He had never missed a single day to update his status, basically telling everyone on Facebook how upset he was, how he would- if it were not a sin- attempt a suicide.
I remember people kept bothering me with questions. Why is he doing this? What happens? and the most troublesome question for me was Of all people, you should know, right? Things between me and him was something the public had learned the truth about. We couldn't hide the spark well enough....
...or at least, I couldn't.
I asked him several times about what was going on. I cried at nights, hating myself from not knowing. I was tired answering people's questions. I was tired being the one who should know.
He finally gave in and told me that he wanted to run away. So I asked, "Why? Why would you want something like that?" and he managed to avoid answering that. It seemed to me that he did not want me to know the core of his problem. It was devastating.
Then, the day after, it all stopped.
His Facebook status are all bright and cheered up, and it seemed that nothing had happened days before. I was relieved. I was so sure that he felt relieved after talking to me. I told my friends about how we talked and what he had told me. I assured them everything was in its place.
Next time I asked him again what exactly happened. He told me cheerfully that it was okay then. He was finally freed from his hopeless feeling. I remember holding myself back from asking why because he was so cheerful in telling me and I didn't want to cut his talk. But, what he told me was something that put a space between us. A space successfully maintained even up 'til now.
