+65

Rain just stopped. Opening my window, I felt soft breeze kissing my cheek. It left that kind of smell, the one called petrichor; that’s what I heard from Zia when we were having lunch together. I had been longing for rainy days and I was really happy for the rain coming down today. The weather had never been this cool. I always liked this kind of weather. Ah! I should have gone out while it was raining, running through the rain happily without my umbrella, re-enacting that famous scene from a Korean melodrama movie.

And my cellphone rang...

Speaking of honesty, it ruined the atmosphere I tried to indulge in. Florence and the Machine broke the silence I was enjoying. I felt way too lazy to walk to my desk and answer the call, but a soft whisper told me to do so, so reluctantly I walked to my desk and found myself confused for seeing unknown number appearing on my phone screen. The number appeared strange, as it began with +65; surely not calling code for Indonesia. Feeling hesitant, I answered the call.

“Hello?”

There was no answer. I repeated the “hello” three times until I heard a man’s voice. I paused for a while, for the voice sounded a bit familiar to me. I was expecting that the man would introduce himself first but five seconds of silence made me feel like hanging up the call. I was about to end the call when the man suddenly asked me to wait.

“Wait! Don’t hang up!”

I frowned as I heard his voice again.

“Well, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

I was astonished at the realization. I knew the man. I knew the one calling me right now. His voice changed a bit and it was surprising that he would call me so suddenly. I bet it had been five months since the last time I met him when he was back for holiday. I remembered his hair was short—he might have cut it short. He was wearing skinny blue jeans, black T-shirt, and Superdry windcheater jacket. It was one hot day in May, perhaps the hottest day in May, and he was glad for being able to wear his jacket just because he could never wear it in Singapore. He didn’t talk much that day; probably the previous misunderstanding between us made him avoid further conversation with me.

“Reyhan! How are you doing?” I almost jumped responding his words.

“Doing just fine. How about you?” said he.

“Good! I’m good! Well it’s just.. you know it’s been a long time since the last time I talked with you,” said I.

“Oh, really. So it must have been five or six months, right?” said he.

“Yeah. I remember how happy you were for being able to wear your windcheater,” said I.

His laugh was a little forced and it somehow made me nervous. Did I say something wrong? I was afraid that he would hang up. The worst case might be that he would regret calling me and would never call me anymore. Oh! I must be overthinking right now!

“I wore the jacket yesterday. It was raining heavily last evening and I had to go with a friend so I wore the jacket,” said he.

“Where did you go?” asked I.

“Should I tell you?” asked he.

“Yes, you should,” answered I.

What the heck did you just say, Tania?! The words just came from my mouth, out of nowhere. I should have not said that. Really, I must have had problems with slips of tongue. Reyhan would feel really awkward. He must be thinking who the heck this girl is for urging him to tell what she must not know.

“I went to see a psychiatrist,” said he.

“Psychiatrist?” I was startled.

“My friends living next door found me being a masochist,” said he.

“You’re not kidding right now, are you?” asked I in disbelief.

“My left arm bled so bad that I was taken to nearby clinic,” said he.

“What happened with you, Reyhan?” asked I, almost freaking out.

I started to get mad at him as he explained everything. He told me how it happened, what drove him to hurt himself and why he did that. When I was in high school, Andra, one of Reyhan’s closest friend told me that the kid had tried to commit suicide. His brother found him inside his closet and luckily he was saved. I had to admit knowing that he was sometimes mentally unstable. At one moment he would laugh so hard and in the following minutes he would throw his tantrum and cry.

“I wish murder was not a sin,” he said, almost whispering.

“You cannot and should never think of it. Don’t ever think about murdering your big brother,” I warned him.

“Why should blood be thicker than water?” asked he.  

“Because it consists of plasma,” I answered.

“Tania, I’m being serious right now,” he sounded annoyed.

I paused and took a deep breath. I had never dealt with someone who wanted to murder his sibling so bad. For a second I felt scared, so scared because he might really kill his big brother. Suddenly I felt like booking a plane ticket to Singapore to check his condition. I wondered where he really was right now, what he was doing and with whom he was. He should not be by himself right now because something bad might happen. He might hurt himself, or, for the most extreme case, go back to Indonesia only to kill his brother.

“Reyhan, you are not going to do that, right?” I asked.

“I wish I could, but I couldn’t,” answered he.

Ah, as I’ve guessed! I knew, I knew it right. He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t even do that. Even if he could, he wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t that he got no balls for killing someone; he just would never let his beloved ones hurt. But, he could do it to himself. And if he could, he would. Jesus! Why would he be like that?

“And you’re going to stop hurting yourself, right?” I asked.

“I wish I could,” answered he.

“Yes, you can! Why would you hurt yourself?” I asked impatiently.

“Because I don’t want to hurt anyone! I don’t want to destroy things! I don’t want to blame on those who don’t deserve my punch and I don’t want to make damages on my stuffs so that’s why I hurt myself! It didn’t hurt anyway. You can try it if you want to,” he answered.

“No, I would not do such a thing,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I value my life. You didn’t value yours. Now listen! Do you think your brother would immediately change if you hurt yourself? Do you think your brother would become more selfless if you cut your wrist? Hell no! Not in a single fucking chance he would change, yet he would feel guilty instead!” I cried.

“Oh, that’s good! He would be reflecting on his mistakes!” answered he.

“Reyhan, c’mon! I’m going to hang up if you keep saying such things!” I warned him.

Reyhan paused for a while.

“You should have not hurt yourself. The only way to make your brother know that you’re disappointed in him is telling him the truth. Tell him that you hate it when he starts being ignorant and taking your anger for granted. Tell him not to make promise if he is unsure about fulfilling his promises. Communicate your feelings with your brother, asserting that you’re being serious and hate being taken for granted,” said I.

“I don’t want to call him,” said he.

“Then how would you tell him what you are feeling? Remember that he can’t read your mind,” I replied.

“He should have known it by himself,” said he.

“He won’t know if you don’t tell him. Put yourself in his shoes. If you were him, well, with his phlegmatic personality, would you understand what your little brother feels while he won’t tell you what he feels?” asked I.

“I’ve.. I’ve been trying to understand him b-but understanding is not a one-way stuff. It’s unfair if.. if I’m the only one trying to understand him while he himself seems carefree about my feelings,” said he haltingly.

“Are you crying right now?” asked I.

“No, I’m not. I’m trying not to. I don’t want to,” said he.

“You’ve piled up your grudges toward your brother. Oftentimes you keep things by yourself, yet people can still see that there’s something wrong with you and you leave them wondering what has happened to you. No matter how hard you tried to fake your smile, people can still tell that you’re not okay,” said I.

“You couldn’t tell,” Reyhan almost whispered.

“Pardon me?”

He paused. Biting my lower lip, I came to realization that I was, or, I have been kind of insensitive. I must have not been aware of what actually happened around me.

“Do you remember that night when you took me home and on our way you didn’t even say a word to me?” asked I, “We met our friends earlier at a coffee shop and I felt that you were avoiding me since you came and saw me. When it was time to go home, I had no one to pick me up so unfortunately you had to take me home. I thought it would be a nice ride but you didn’t say anything to me so I cried. I wondered why you changed and I hated that you changed. After passing the main gate of the housing complex, I told you to stop and I decided to walk home, but you stopped me and told me about your feelings for me back then. I ran back to you and you consoled me with a warm hug.”

“I felt so bad for making you cry. I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay. If you didn’t tell me the truth, how would I know that you liked me back then?” I said.

“I’m sorry for trying hard to avoid you and saying no words to you. After I told you the truth, I felt relieved. Honestly, I was mad at you, not because you were in a relationship with Zia, but because of the fact that you spent most of your time with him and you didn’t spend your time with me or even talked to me. We have never gone out together anymore ever since and I thought that there was no point of calling you or meeting you because you were already with someone new and you were enjoying your new world,” explained he.

“I’m sorry that I was really oblivious to what happened,” said I.

“I told you the truth because I felt that it was unfair if I kept it by myself. I thought of you and how you would feel if I were you, being ignored by a good friend. I thought the best way to solve everything is to tell you the truth that I liked you and I needed time to be away from you because maybe I still had feeling for you and I was trying to be just platonic with you. It would be unfair if I just avoided you, leaving you wondering why I avoided you and became unfriendly to you,” he added.

I shed tears as I listened to his words. I didn’t know how it became so melancholic like this. I felt guilty but, at the same time, I felt thankful for having a friend like him. I must have been insensitive and I felt bad for that. 

"Thank you for putting yourself in my shoes," I said.

“Why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?” asked he.

“How did you know?” I was astounded.

“I just can tell. I have strong intuition,” he said.

“Yeah, I know. You’re also very sensitive that you can tell right away when something changes, even a bit,” I said.

Reyhan laughed.

“I wish I am not as sensitive as I am right now,” he said.

“Why? Embrace it!” asked I.

“I’ve been overly sensitive over things that I get hurt easily. If I was not this sensitive, I would not be mad at my brother and be hurt this bad,” said he.

“That’s what makes you unique, Reyhan. I know sometimes you sensitivity is annoying, but without your sensitivity, you can’t tell when someone is being sad or when something is being wrong. Sometimes things are so subtle and covert and I, we, are glad to have you as our friends because you can tell those subtle and covert things,” I explained.

I didn’t know but I felt like I could tell that Reyhan was smiling over the phone. I was glad that at least, he could smile—a sincere smile. It has been a long time since the last time I saw him smiling at me. That little jerk had two kind of smiles, sincere smile and evil smile and I could always tell if he was giving me an evil smile. I’d just check my backpack for any pranks or my cellphone to find if he hacked my Facebook and posted stupid status or pictures on my behalf.

“Don’t murder you brother, okay?” asked I.

“Okay. I’m trying to forgive him,” said he.

“You have to forgive him. Reyhan, trust me that no matter how annoying he is, he’s still your big brother and he loves you. You got it?” said I.

“Got it,” replied he.

“Anyway, after you took me home that night, it rained. You told me you were caught in the rain on your way home and you stopped for a while to take shelter,” I said.

“Yeah, it did. I was soaking wet,” he replied.

“I’m sorry about it. Were you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you for making me skip the class for a week,” he said.

“Are you serious? Were you very sick?” I was shocked.

“Yes. But I went to Shaw Lido and Timezone Rush for three days straight,” said he.

“Wait? Shaw Lido?” I was confused.

“A movie theatre. I watched movies for three days straight. It was really fun,” he said.

“What a jerk!” I yelled.

“Anyway, I’m going back on December. My cousin Trey will be visiting Bandung on December as well. You still remember him, right? I wonder if we can meet,” he said.

“Yes, we can!” I yelled enthusiastically, “I can’t wait to meet you two!”

“Me too. Looking forward to it,” said he. 

Reyhan and I laughed together. After asking about some other things, Reyhan said goodbye and ended the call. I looked at my phone screen, showing the duration of the call. Ten minutes and thirty seven seconds. He called me from Singapore. That would cost a lot, wouldn’t it?

I really wondered how he looked like. Did he grow his hair, or keep it short? Did he dye it? If he dyed it, what color was his hair? I remembered he had once told me he wanted to dye his hair so bad. Did he gain weight and grow taller? I put my cellphone back on my desk and walked to the window. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. It has been a long time. Yes, it has been a really long time.

I missed my friend. I really missed him.