4 a.m.  My phone rang...I have a negative vibe on phone calls made at an ungodly hour in the morning. The last time I had it, a staff from work was wailing as she witnessed their house burned down by fire.

I thought I was just dreaming and never wanted to open up my eyes. But the ring soon sounded so real I had to wake up. It was my brother. For a few seconds there I just stared at the phone wondering what could this call be about. I debated whether to answer or not, whether to panic or play it cool.

I chose to play it cool. “Hello...What’s with the call this early?” No answer...”Hello...” No answer...just some noise, the sound of a strong wind... “Hello...Hello” No answer... I started hearing my heartbeat pounding so loud. I hung up the phone. I dialed his number. This time he answered. “What’s the matter with you?”, I asked sounding a little bit irritated. Well, I still played it cool, though I actually felt relieved hearing his voice. “Uh...Uh...Why?”, was his succinct reply. ”You called me up earlier, you didn’t answer. Why?”, I retorted.  “Aahhhh...That? I was digging up my bag earlier, your number got dialed inadvertently I think. “, he answered. “Oh stupid.”, i mumbled to myself. “ Uh uh...why are you up so early?”, I probed. “I have to report for work early today.”, he replied. That was all I needed. “Ahh ok, you just woke me up! I have to go back to sleep now. Bye.” “Bye”...We hung up.

I closed my eyes again hoping I would be sedated back to dreamland. But my mind was wide awake I could hear it think aloud. Sleep was elusive. Keeping my eyes closed would be laborious, so I opened them anyway. I stared in darkness. Soon enough, extreme sadness engulfed me it was inconsolable. Before I knew it, warm salty liquids started rolling down my cheeks. The feeling of loss was there again. It had haunted me a few times and this was one of them. It was instigated by that sudden call, struck by the images that played in my head. It was so powerful that it made me cry for the possibility. I cried for my fear.

Of all us three siblings, it was him I worry much about. He isn’t like our eldest brother and I. He is timid, miserly and not the favorites of aunts, uncles and grannies. He doesn’t have the spunk our eldest and I do. In the law of natural selection, he simply wouldn’t make it. He takes life sitting down and just looks at it pass him by, without realizing his true potentials. Even when we were kids, our differences were evident. We always fought on almost anything. We could not be in one place and not fight; that would be a rare impossibility. And that only could only happen when we played Word Factory, at least momentarily before the game ended.

It wasn’t until our mom died that we bonded and took the same side. He started caring for me like a real big brother. Well, almost. For most part, he was still quiet, detached and cantankerous.

He is bright. In fact, he is the brightest of us three. But like our eldest, he was not strong to trials. But then maybe that’s a male thing. Without my mom’s presence in our lives, both of them got into alcohol, fraternity, smokes and pots. My father could not be of help either; he himself was licking his own wound caused by my mom’s death.

My brothers did not finish school. Their lives were in a train wreck, and I could only be a spectator as this was happening, trying my best to stay afloat.

I finished school and since then I took on the motherly responsibility to look after them. Even until now that they are married and have families of their own. I send them back to school, hoping to regain their opportunities that were wasted before. For them...for their kids...but more so, for me. This is an act of purification for me; that whatever things I deserve now, I can not enjoy unless I share it with them. And like anyone else, I want to enjoy it badly, like a wild monkey rattling her cage.

Whatever I do now, there is always an extra for this brother of mine. Though I am closest to our eldest, I am more giving and concerned to the other one. He can push me to the brink of anxiety for no reason at all, like this stupid call. Now I get to understand that parents really do have favorites. It’s not who is the best but the ones whom they think need more attention and affection. In fact, when we were kids I did think my mother was amused by me and my eldest brother but she loved my second brother more specifically. And there is a difference in that.

Looking back, I can't blame my mother. I am guilty of the same. I wept for him and even as I am writing this, I am misty-eyed...of pity, of concern, of fear, of love.

Back then I never thought this would happen. That he would be able to make me cry in ways I do today.