PRESENT

He waited for Callie Annette Shaw to stop by her locker to grab some textbooks for the lecture she had after lunch. He knew her schedule even better than he knew his own. He knew her routine, how she would pause for a while before shutting the locker door to check herself out in the mirror she hung on the back of the door; how she would preen herself by tucking her honey-blond hair behind one ear and smile the sweetest smile to her reflection.

And how she would always pick up that photo she left in her locker for one lingering look before she close the locker door. The photo they took at graduation prom.

Oh…She did not go through with the last step…

Change of routine? Too distracted?

Silently, he crept up behind her as she stared a little stonily at her closed locker, most probably exhausted from her previous lecture. He knew that she had two consecutive lectures that lasted from nine am to one pm. Cramming her lectures together was the only she could have three free days in a week to pursue her freelance work with Bayport’s Gazette*.

Playfully he took her hand and went, "Boo!"

She turned, in shock. He had expected her to smile in relief and slug him back affectionately but she did no such thing. Her hand was still in his but he was the one holding on to her.

She was just letting him hold on.

Yesterday’s night must had pissed her off.

"Hey babe. You don’t seem happy to see me."

"Hmm…" She replied. Frank felt a little self-conscious standing next to his hostile girlfriend in the middle of the hallway. He had dashed all the way from the Faculty of Law to the Faculty of Mass Communications. It was a good distance that he ran. And he did it just so he could catch up with her and ask her for lunch together with him and Joe.

"You…erm…want lunch? I’m meeting Joe…" He stuttered a little. Callie was the only person who could make him lose his composure like that. Maybe that was why he fell for her-because she treated him like a regular dumb guy instead of the genius that everyone liked to term him.

I’m really just a regular old guy. IQ tests may not be accurate all the time.

"Good. Have fun. I’m meeting someone too. We’re going to the cafeteria here. I think you’re meeting Joe in the Social Science’s right?" She spoke icily, not looking at him. He was flustered and was anxious to humor her, to make her happy so things would go back to normal.

"Is it about Monday?"

"Oh, no…definitely not…" Callie looked at him finally, her hazel eyes flashed. "You have no idea, do you?"

Frank scanned his brain for that word, action or nuance that he said, did or implied that could have angered his girlfriend so. However, his mind turned out zilch. He could only remember Monday. Before Monday, they were in perfect harmony- loving and sweet to each other.

Why the sudden change? I have neglected her, haven’t I? Oh Callie, why don’t you just tell me?

"Cal, I’m sorry, for whatever I did…" He felt his hand which held hers became all clammy and cold. With the other, he ran a hand through his hair while staring at his feet. He just wanted the dark cloud to pass them by.

Callie smiled at him- not the sweet one that he was used to- but one that told him something was seriously wrong. It was a disappointed smile- one that told Frank he would never get it because she would never tell.

Extricating her hand from his grip, she walked calmly away from him and he did not give chase. He wanted to, yet, he was afraid she would rebuff him. Besides, he was already late for his lunch date with his brother. Besides, he thought she was probably just throwing some tantrum and it would be better for her to cool down first. Callie always did that. She would get angry sometimes, stop calling him and rejecting his approaches for a day or two, sort out what had irritated her and they would have a talk which would lead Frank to understand her better.

And end up doing the same thing to hurt her. Yes, that must be it. She’s angry that I’m pre-occupied with the life of my kid brother.

But Callie, Joe really needs me now, maybe he doesn’t know it but he does. I can’t tell you, I want to. It’s a terrible secret. It’s a horrible secret. I know about his torment but I can’t tell him.

I’ll tell you everything when the whole thing blows over. Have faith in me. The storm will pass.

And I’ll be Frank Hardy again.

***

Joe was already waiting for him outside the cafeteria, slouching lazily against the wall with his head hung low as he avoided the stares- both curious and frightened. It was normal; it was common. Human beings are full of mistrust and inquisitiveness. Once charged- no matter what the second verdict if it was actually allowed- always charged.

And though Joe always tried to look cool about it, Frank, and only Frank, knew that Joe was really unsettled by the condemnatory glances. From beneath his fringe, Frank noticed that Joe’s eyes darted around furtively at some intervals.

Spies everywhere. To Joe, spies are everywhere.

Frank thought his brother had never looked more sloppy. His Hard-Rock café t-shirt was wrinkled, like he had slept in them, and oversized. He was wearing those baggy cargo bermudas that hung low on his hips. If he was not careful, a little of the band of his boxers could actually peep through.

My…what the hell happened? He sleeps too much…I think he just woke up and threw on whatever he could find on his floor.

The same urge to reveal his knowledge to Joe came back to Frank but he brushed it aside- with great difficulty. He knew he could keep cool. He knew he could keep calm. But the overwhelming feeling of that horror was tearing at him, giving him sleepless nights as he tossed and turned in bed, discouraged and angered at not knowing how to reach out to his brother.

Having Joe going mental in the middle of a crowded cafeteria was a strict no-no thus Frank willed his mouth to clamp shut. Joe languorously peered at him through his overgrown fringe and raised an eyebrow. Frank jerked his head towards the interior of the cafeteria and after the two brothers greeted each other in silence, they headed in with Joe walking slightly behind Frank.

He’ll never admit it but he’s hiding behind me. Hiding from the world. He does that sometimes, when he feels so vulnerable.

I don’t mind it. But I want him to be brave. I want him to stop hiding.

Frank found an empty seat and watched as Joe slumped on the chair, immediately crossing his arms on the table and resting his head on them, oblivious to the fact that he was going to sleep in a crowded, noisy place where people were waiting for seats to eat and definitely would not appreciate him using the precious space for something else. However, even before the incident, Joe always did what he felt like doing as long as he was not hurting anybody.

Not everything had changed. The slight difference now is that Joe will probably not mind doing things to hurt himself and it’s a very scary, realistic thought.

"You want anything?"

"I’ve got caffeine pills in my pocket. I just need water." Joe yawned after he spoke, his eyes still close as he nestled his blond head more comfortably in the warm pillow his arms made. Frank shook his head and grunted his displeasure which was obviously lost in the din of jumbled conversations, clanging of utensils and the occasional shouts of anger from people who were accidentally bumped into. Frank now knew why he hated the Social Sciences Cafeteria.

But the café in the Law Faculty is much too snobbish for me. Everyone who patronized it seemed to be advertising for cigars, Prada and Gucci.

He returned a while later with a glass of water which was provided free and a cup of espresso. It was not advisable to drink coffee on an empty stomach, however, he had no appetite either. Joe sensed his return and struggled up into as upright a position as he could managed. His kid brother then, with great effort, dug inside his pocket for that bottle with the contents that Frank knew Joe could not live without.

And me. We are both caffeine addicts.

"I don’t know why I take these babies. I still sleep." Joe popped two in his mouth and swallowed them with a mouthful of water before making a face. "I hate taking pills."

"Then you should…" Frank caught himself. He had no idea what to say to Joe, had regretted not taking any courses that would teach him to deal with a manic depressive when he seemed to be taking funny courses all his life.

Let’s see, Piano, Tae Kwan Do, Judo, Karate, classical guitar, How to be a Billionaire when You Reach 25.

Nope…none for How to deal with Manic Depressives Little Brothers.

I helped that guy to be a billionaire when I paid for that stupid talk.

"Snap out of it? Yah…you’re right. I should." Joe propped his head up with an arm that rested on its elbow on the table. "And you should get more sleep. Your dark circles are so prominent."

"Thanks for noticing." Frank replied dryly as he sipped his coffee. He eyed the bottle and thought of the time he had wasted downing the espresso while Joe had it all settled in a few seconds. The thought caused him to smile a little.

"Why?"

"Nothing."

I enjoy the rich aroma of the finest beans. Joe don’t enjoy such things. He hates tea, he hates coffee. But he needs caffeine.

Like me. For entirely different reasons.

They sat down in awkward silence. That was a situation that had cropped up very often after Vanessa’s death. It was not like they had nothing to say. It was more like they had so much to tell each other but no words to help them.

No courage to help us.

Joe mumbled something just as a girl started screaming at her boyfriend out of the blue from somewhere left of them. Frank strained his ears to listen but could not catch the words that Joe was muttering.

"What?" Frank raised his voice a little, trying to carry his message across the din.

His brother glared at the screaming couple and suddenly stood up. "SHUT UP THE BOTH OF YOU! SHUT THE HELL UP!" He yelled several decibels much higher than them.

So high the whole cafeteria heard him.

The couple stopped hollering. The noise abruptly settled. The nightmare of the campus surfaced.

Frank’s face flushed a bright crimson.

Joe kicked his chair and it skidded across the ground and hit the other table. Many pairs of eyes were fixed on him- stunned, curious, afraid and baffled. With the recent rise in campus shooting, everybody seemed frozen with fear that Joe would suddenly load up a gun and blow them all into bloodied bits and pieces.

But he did no such thing. All the he did was angrily storm out of the cafeteria. Really. Just stormed out without further words.

Nonetheless, it was enough to get Frank all alarmed and harried.

***

Joe had no idea why he would burst out like that. Claustrophobia attacked him with finesse and stealth, aided by the greasy smell that lingered in the air of the cafeteria and the clamor of the appalling place.

Though he never told anyone, but the cafeteria, with its functional and almost ugly design, reminded him so much of the mess hall. Thoughts came unbidden to him thwarting his efforts to hang on to that tenacious hold onto his sanity.

But everything reminds me. Everything! Of her! Of that place! Of everything!!!

I’m going crazy…I’m really going crazy…what’s happening to me? What?!!!

Someone grabbed his hand from behind, someone strong and assertive. In his psychedelic, disconnected flashbacks, Joe turned, raised a fist and hoped to defend himself successfully.

I must. This time. I must!

"What’s wrong with you?" A familiar face; a familiar voice. Thankfully Joe noticed and recognized it before the fist landed. He unclenched his fingers and looked around, gaining some sense of bearings. He saw that he was already in the car park and had somehow found his way, in spite of his madness, to his trusty black van. Leaning against it, he pulled his fringe back with a hand and held it away from his face. The unwelcomed afternoon sun pierced his eyes again and he shut them, refusing the rays entry.

"I don’t know. Nothing. Nobody can hear me in that cafeteria anyway. Don’t you want to shout out loud sometimes as well?" Joe let his hands drop to his sides. Without that human clip, his fringe fell all over his face to once again hide it from the discriminating stares.

From the merciless world.

Frank leaned next to him against the body of the van. The car park was pretty empty, saved one or two blessed students who had already attended all their lessons for the day. Joe heard his elder brother sigh softly.

Go on. Go on and tell me I’m a lunatic, Frank. If I hear it from you, I’ll believe you. Honest! I’ll even get myself warded.

And never come out. Never. I don’t ever want to stay here anymore.

"You feeling alright now?" Frank’s deep, velvety voice was calming. Joe heard the concern behind the simple words and nodded unconvincingly.

"You found out something about Vanessa?" Joe asked numbly, abruptly changing topic. Talking about anything that could distract his ravished mind was good. Besides, visiting Vanessa’s room, listening to the contents in the letters, Joe reached a resolution.

No use hiding or running. I have to face up to it. I have to.

Frank turned and look at Joe, worry spelled in bold imprint on his mien. But Joe did not know that. He was still staring in that vast, endless sky which was cloudless and cheerless though it was colored stark blue.

"Vanessa might not have died from the gunshot. It could be a broken neck. Maybe someone pushed her and she fell. But she’s a good climber so she could not have been that careless thus that someone…"

"There’s no need to bring in someone Frank. There’s no one else but me. No one." Joe’s head lolled towards Frank, his eyes unfocused, glazed over with unspeakable grief.

"I have to live with that knowledge. It’s no use looking for something that isn’t there." He then turned away and closed his eyes again excruciatingly because of the agony that pitilessly squeezed his soul with ice-cold fingers. Squeezed it and kept it imprisoned with its relentless death grip.

‘It’s funny how I tell myself all these things Mina, make me sound strong. At the end of the day, I feel so weak. So very weak. Without him, I don’t know how to go on…’

I’m not terribly strong either Ness. I’m not. I’m dying a different death everyday. Everyday. Just pining for you. Just pining for us.

Why? A million whys.

Frank did not try to give him comfort by hugging or ruffling his hair or anything remotely associated with touch. Joe was glad for that. He did not deserve the affections- the love. Instead, in a monotone, Frank asked him, "You’re sure?"

Joe then backed away from the van and shook his head to clear his mind. Putting up a brave front when he just wanted to lie down there and die, he nodded resolutely. Frank patted his shoulder, something Joe could still endure through, and sighed.

"Alright then. Joe…you want to see someone to help you out? I mean…"

"Like the previous one who tried to force Prozacs down my throat? No thanks. I can handle it." Joe spoke wryly. He remembered how he had almost brought a middle-aged psychiatrist to her knees with hands pounding in frustration at the floor when all her ploys to get him to open up to her did not work. For three consecutive sessions, Joe stared at her in silence for three hours.

And she finally gave up and told Laura and Fenton that there was nothing she could do as they watched on helplessly. After three more psychiatrists who experienced the same scenario and had no idea what to do with the difficult patient, Joe guessed his family probably gave up.

Except for Frank, who tried and tried until he was exhausted himself. Joe could see it, could see the tiredness in his brother’s eyes. He only hope Frank would finally understand. Really understood.

"Up to you. But Joe, it’s not a crime to seek some help for ourselves. There’s always hope. And you know no matter how far I am, I’m at worse, only a phone call away."

Joe nodded again, not wanting to continue the conversation. "I’m going back to my dorm."

Frank got the hint. "And I’m going for class. Talk me alright? I’m always here." Though Frank knew Joe wanted some solitude, he was still adamant about helping his little brother.

Joe unlocked the van’s door and got in the driver’s seat. Without saying goodbye, he drove away on autopilot. Those invading thoughts were intruding on the thin shreds of his soul. To him, the world was quiet but for the chaos in his mind.

And no answers. No answers at all!

But to Frank, as the van roared away without Joe even throwing a brief backwards glance, the weight that had always been on his heart became unbearable. So heavy that he could only watch his little brother escape into the consuming darkness and not be able to move.

Until much later. Much much later.