What is weekend? For some people, weekend means shopping, having picnicked, and spending time with family...but for me, for every weekend, I would be here, at this gloomy, dark place...filled with numb air....with a jug of water in my hand. Three years had passed, but I still couldn’t forget it. As it was just happen yesterday.
I had a mischievous brother, who was eight years younger than me. Our parent had died in an accident when I was 10. We lived with an adopted family, together. My brother was a little boy, with wide eyes, and naughty smile. Sometimes, he loved to help me doing the house chores, but most of the times, I hoped that he hadn’t.
Every weekend, I had to look after him, and that was when my nightmare began. He said that he wanted to help arranging the books, but it ended up with him reshuffling everything which forced me to arrange them back. He said that he wanted to help sweeping the floor, but it ended up with him breaking a vase which made me being scolded by my mother for the whole day. He said that he wanted to help washing the clothes, but it ended up with him putting too much detergent, leaving it in disaster and I had to wash everything again. That was my little brother. Sometimes, I hoped that weekend never comes. I hoped that I could have a normal life, like the other girls, who could spend their times with shopping, having a date with boyfriend or watching movies...but things never get into that way.
Behind our house, there was a wooden hut, built by Daddy. It was the place where I spent most of my times, after finish with the chores. For you, perhaps it was just a small hut, but for me, it was the second home. I did my homework there, played with the toys, read novels...and I even slept in it sometimes.
On my 18th birthday, my mother gave me a beautiful necklace with a heart-shaped locket. It was the best birthday present that I ever had. Filled with excitement, I kept it in a glass box, and put it carefully on the top of the shelves in the hut. I reminded my brother not to even get close to the glass box. He nodded his head, without saying anything. I looked at him in curious and wondered whether he really understood what I said.
One day, as usual, I spent my evening in the hut, reading novel. My brother was sleeping in one of the corner. I didn’t want to have him in my hut, but as there was nobody else in the house, then I just let him in. After two hours, I’ve fallen asleep.
I woke up when I heard a crash. I opened my eyes to see my brother was standing on a chair, against the shelves. He was holding my precious necklace, with the glass box was on the floor, broken into pieces. Ah, u can guess what happened next. I shouted at him, grabbed my necklace, and I slapped him on his face. He said sorry, but I didn’t listen to him. I was so angry. I scolded him for the whole day and night, and refused to talk to him for few days.
About a week after, I got an offer to further my study in a college, far from my house. It was such a credit, so I could hardly say no. I accepted the offer and prepared for it. At first, my mother was not so pleased with my decision.
“It’s not easy to get such offer. It’s such a prestigious college. How could I decline it?”
“Yes, that is true, but you should think about your brother. What would happen to him?”
“What’s wrong with him? He would stay here, of course,”
“Elsie, you’re the only sister that he has in the world, his real family. He would miss you a lot,”
I took a glance at Eric who was sitting nearby. He didn’t look at us, but I knew that he was listening.
“I think it would be alright for him. I don’t think that he needs me. He doesn’t even listen to me much. So, I think it’s better for us to stay apart. At least, he’s not being such a burden for me” I know, it was such a harsh word, but at that time, I didn’t care at all. I was still angry at him.
That was how my new life began. I became a college student, and life was not that wonderful. Sometimes, I realised how much I missed my brother, but I knew that I had made my own decision and it’s impossible to turn back. I was rarely going back home, too busy with my work and study, but still I called my family when I got time.
I still remember the date. 19th November. It was a hot Sunday evening when I got an emergency call from my mother. Her voice was trembling in anxious when she told me that my hut was caught in a fire, and Eric had been hospitalized because of that. I felt dead. How was my brother? What he did in the hut? I had no time to think. In a jiffy, I took a bus and went to the hospital.
I found my mother, sitting outside the emergency room. As she saw me, she hugged me tightly. She cried on my shoulder.
“It was too late, dear. We’re too late. He can’t be saved”
It was dreadful. I felt like my legs were nailed to the ground. I fell on the floor. My body was numb. I tried to say something, but my words were stuck in my throat. I didn’t know what to think...I didn’t know what to do...I felt...helpless. I realised that I just lost the only brother that I had....the only my own family member....
Tears rolled down my cheeks. I ignored the others, who were surrounding me, trying to calm me down. None of their words got into me. With heavy steps, I walked into the emergency room.
There he was. I walked towards him, hugged his breathless body tightly. I kissed his cold and pale cheeks. I patted his hair. I held his right hand, and at that time, I realised that there was something in his grip. On his palm, there was my necklace, as good as new. Confused, I turned to my mother.
“We were just coming home when we realised that your hut was caught on fire. He told me that he needed to save your necklace, as you loved it so much. I tried to stop him, but sorry, I failed. We managed to put off the fire, but he ran out of oxygen, asphyxiated. It was too late when we found him...”
I burst into tears. What on earth was he thinking? Did he think that I loved the necklace more than him? Did he think that I was willing to sacrifice him just because of it? Did he think that losing the necklace is nothing better than losing him? I hugged his dead body tightly. Tears rolled down, unstopped. What a bad sister I am. What a stupid sister I am. I knew that I would never see him anymore. No more his laugh, no more his tears, and I couldn’t stop crying.
That was how my weekends changed, again. For every weekend, I would be here, at this graveyard, visiting him. I missed him, and I knew that for the rest of my life, I would live with that regret. There would be nothing that I could do to bring him back, but I knew that it was not the end of the world. Life must go on. With heavy steps, I stood up, and walked away with tears rolled down my cheeks.
