Lunettes
by : Sakeena [email protected]
Visit her webpage at : http://www23.brinkster.com/sakeena

** This story is strongly influenced by the french-produced film, Tokyo Eyes, with Japanese cast that I saw in TV5 [[yes, French channel]] I loved it, I thought I'd write something like it.. But so far, from what came out the characters are where the similarities end.

**Btw, this version is actually the 2nd version. I wrote a story like this some 6 months ago on my palm.. and was accidentally deleted.. so I tried to rewrite it when I realized it was gone.. But instead of rewriting it, something else came out... The original version was less.. err,, twisted, less "symbolic" [[i swear i didn't mean it to be that way!]], less dramatic.. But the more I tried to remember the first version, the more I can't [[cant even remember the title]].. Twisted huh? And yes, I didn't feel like chaptering,, so bear with me :) Anyway, please be nice and do tell me what you think. It's my first time to write something like this.. **

~~~~@

It was quiet, as usual, I thought with a pang of bitterness as I open the door to the condo I shared with my guardian / brother and saw the empty living room. With a sigh, I threw my things down on the carpeted floor, slamming the door shut. The room looked empty, it seemed empty, it smelled empty, it sounded empty, it felt empty, and in fact, it was empty.

I live with my brother. He who never came home. Who could blame him, he was cop. A servant of the community, as my father used to say. Oh, where were my parents? Well, they divorced about a year ago, and my mother flew to somewhere in the Alps to be with her new husband. My father got assigned somewhere, somewhere in Latin America. He was continuously on the move, leaving my brother in charge of me. My brother was a cop, never here, but he wasn't like this at first. He went home like a good boy, checked on his sister, sometimes even cooked dinner, slept, and even had a social life and a girlfriend. But some three months ago, he seemed to forget everything else, including me. Initially, he called, to say he'd be late, to say he couldn't make it, to say he'd be sleeping over for work, to say he'd be gone for 3 days, then for 5 days, then for 2 weeks, then I just lost count. His girlfriend got so frustrated she dumped him, despite the fact that they've been together for three years. Nowadays, he wouldn't even call. I couldn't remember the last time I saw him, and I almost didn't recognize the unshaven uncombed man who walked in the door some few weeks back. I almost screamed. But oh it was him, dear brother, and he dropped by to give me my allowance. And then he was gone.

I checked on the fridge. Hmmm.. Nachos. My favorite. To some point it was...fun. At first, at least. No curfew, no rules, all freedom. But it didn't take a while for me to get bored with my freedom. Besides, I miss him. And I was doing lousy in school ever since he left. Bet he had no idea.

I was chemical engineering major. The first year went well. The second year was a little bumpy...but managed. And now the third, everything was rocky. I knew if I didn't do well this sem, I'm out. But I swear, I gave it my everything. I even cried when I got the first exam results. Then some realizations hit me - that I wasn't really interested in my course. And even if I passed, so what? What will the future be for a chem eng major? I know I know, but what I mean is, will I be happy? So eventually, I just let it all go. Nowadays, going to school was just a time away from the empty house. I'd take extra load if I could. Bet he had no idea.

I sat down on the couch with the bowl of nachos on my lap, turning on the TV. It wasn't my fault this time. I intended to tell him. In fact, I waited for him, I wanted to ask his opinion, his advice. But he was never here. No one was ever here.

After finishing the nachos, I rested for some few minutes, throwing my socks on the table. I was so tired you'd think I was some good student to deserve to get tired. I wish I had friends. I believe it was to the credit of my course that I hadn't any. I was really studious when I was in first year - and I had a set of parents to pressure me, to monitor my activities. Straight home from school, no Friday night outs. For one, I had a Saturday morning class. Oh yes, did I mention my mother was a professor in Chemistry? And boy was she fierce that no one seemed to want to make friends. What a sad world.

When I opened my eyes again, the clock read 8:17. Oh my, I dozed off. Was I tired! My daily afternoon routine after school usually consisted of a shower and a meal, but I didn't feel hungry, so I stood up lazily to go to the bathroom. I picked up the fallen bowl from the floor. The carpet had bits of nachos stuck in them.

I didn't turn off the TV, and I wasn't going to. It filled the silence in the room, somehow. It was a part of my daily afternoon routine. But I didn't really pay attention to it. Except that time, the news was mentioning Lunettes, the thief who was ravaging the city at the moment. No one knew who he was, and why he steals for, but the people were getting upset. But he wasn't really a big time thief - in fact he stole the little things that people barely noticed when they were there but noticed a lot when they were not - flower vase, picture frame, curtain rods and table mats. Outdoors, he was known to steal balloons from vendors, helmets from motorcycles, caps from passerbys, and shawls and scarves from women. No one had any idea for his motive, and the authorities had very little clue who he was - he was fast. The only consensus was that he was a guy - but even that was debatable. He was known as Lunettes - French for sunglasses - because he was always seen wearing one when doing his activities.

My eyes narrowed as the camera displayed a blurred image of Lunettes as he escaped with a scarf aboard a motorcycle. His capture was assigned to my brother some three months ago. That was the start of his being a "delinquent" guardian. When he called, he'd mention Lunettes like he was a close relative. He claimed he was "close to catching" him, and promised to be home after his "success". Franchesca, his girlfriend, was suspicious. She called several times asking me about him, but even I could only tell him about Lunettes, and that was the same thing he blabbed about to her. He was obsessed. She was furious. But moreover, she was jealous. I was a little, but more worried.

Looking at the monitor, I could see clearly why he never came home - Lunettes was still free as a bird. And it didn't look like he was about to get caught. There was no sign of my brother coming home any time.

I took my time preparing my bath. I realized I was over the worried period. And I understood Franchesca's feelings. I felt jealous of this Lunettes guy - my brother was never hooked on anything, anybody like Lunettes. He was so bent on catching him he forgot about our existence. He only sipped his coffee with a sigh when I relayed Franchesca's message that she was dumping him after he stood her up at Connie's. And then he dropped the half-full mug, grabbed his coat and left, leaving an envelope containing my allowance. He was crazy.

I dropped my clothes to the ground, feeling the cold marble against my feet. A girl of 18 stared back at me from the mirror, layered brown hair and chestnut eyes. I got into the tub of warm water, shut my eyes and laid my head back, feeling my body relax.

Maybe I dozed off. It was probably a dream, but a little while later, I heard a loud crash. It was loud enough for me to open my eyes, assuming it was from our unit. It was, wasn't it? Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it around my dripping body and dashed out to check. None in the living room. None in my brother's room.

A gasp escaped my lips as I stared at the broken sliding door in my room. Pieces of glass scattered everywhere - on the carpet, on the bed, on the table. What the- ?! I walked to the sliding door to check. Much to my aghast, someone was lying on the floor.

~~~~@

I wasn't able to scream. I was just frozen, as my 'guest' shook his head to recover himself. I wasn't able to run either - I was just staring down at him, glued to the ground I was standing on.

He was all in black, even his eyes and his hair. He stared back at me. We were staring at each other for probably a minute but at the back of my head, I was thinking of where the phone was, of how far I was from the door. And then I organized myself, and I was prepared. I spun around to run but he was fast. He leapt and grabbed my leg, and in a second he was a top of me, and we were staring at each other, eye to eye, close up.

What beautiful eyes, I thought, captivated at the deep pool of black - or whatever the color was - that stared back at me. It was like gravity.

I didn't even scream, and he didn't bother to cover my mouth. And then I was running my fingers on his forehead, on his temple. He couldn't be much older than I was. "It's bleeding," I found myself saying, touching the bleeding area with my finger gently.

He ran his finger on his temple. In another second, he was standing up, and he dashed out of the room through the broken glass doors as he arrived.

I lied there on the carpeted floor, staring at the ceiling blankly. Bringing my finger to my eyes, I saw his blood, red. Very very red.

~~~~@

I never had the sliding door fixed. I intended to have my brother see it first. I wanted to scold him, "See? Where've you been? I was almost killed here while you were out 'protecting' the community.' You need to be here! Do you understand? I almost died! " But as usual, he never came home. So it never got fixed.

I decided to attempt to fix it myself, or at least, get my room back in order, since there was no sign of my brother coming home in the next few weeks. Clean up the mess, get rid of the broken pieces of glass scattered all over. It was then that I noticed a pair of sunglasses on the floor where my assailant had been. Gingerly, I picked it up and inspected it. It dawned to me who he was. Lunettes.

Ironic, isn't it? Those who find are those who don't search. My brother would be thrilled. But a part of me told me to wait for him to call instead. And then I'd tell him about Lunettes, as a sort of price for 'checking on' his sister.

But no, for three days, not even a phone call.

~~~~@

I was walking down from K-Mart grocery after school, and had turned up an empty alley as a shortcut that would end up at the back exit of our condo, when a yellow motorcycle came halting before me. The passenger had a helmet on, and he wore a uniform of a nearby school - white polo shirt and dark blue jeans.

I stopped dead in my tracks, wondering what I had done.

He took off his helmet, revealing a temple with band-aid. "Where is it?"

It didn't take a moment more to recognize him - him with that dark dark eyes. "It's in my room"

"Good. I'll drop by later." And he sped off, saying the words as though he was a close friend.

~~~~@

Dashing to the condo, I dialed the number my brother left on the fridge "in case of emergency". My last attempt to win him over. But it was busy. Thirty minutes of dialing, and I had a sore finger. Frustrated, I dropped the phone.

It was nuts. Sighing, I sat on the floor helplessly. How do I explain this to anybody? Nobody would believe me. I doubt even my brother would, if I reached him. He'd probably think I was nuts anyway. He'd hang up the phone because he had work to do, 'serve the community' as my father used to say.

Oh my gawd, my father. I could call him. Or mom. Scrambling to find the phone book, I stood up with a new hope. But I found myself hanging up after mom's husband answered. And father had an answering machine on, something in Spanish.

I felt so alone. So alone, I turned on the TV again. I refilled the bowl with grocery-fresh nachos, sat myself down with the remote.

~~~~@

It was 7:34 and he hadn't arrived. Surprisingly, I looked forward to it, like he was some friend I had invited to come over for dinner. I was that sad, believe me. I didn't give up hope on my brother though - once in a while, I'd try to dial. But it was always busy. Just like him. By quarter to 8, I gave up. I wasn't waiting for some thief, and I wasn't calling some brother. It's just over. Why should my daily after school routine change because of either of them??!

Oh wait. Maybe Franchesca'd listen? I got to the phone and dialed. A girl answered. "I'm sorry, she's been away for two days and will be off until the end of the month for a business trip. May I know who's calling?" I hung up, and went to my room to get my bathrobe.

On the table sat the sunglasses. I got it along with my bathrobe and went to the bathrobe. He couldn't get it without saying hi.

Oh man, the water felt good. It always did. Shower or lounging in the tub, nothing beats warm water. After that, I got in my blue and white soft bathrobe. Staring back at the mirror is a girl with wet dripping hair. And of course, a pair of sunglasses. For some reasons, I realized I never tried it on - and I had the sudden urge to do so. Gently, I fumbled with it and was about to put it on..

..When the bathroom door opened. I drew back in surprise.

"What are you doing?" my guest demanded.

"Don't you ever knock?" I asked back, regaining myself. "I'm taking a bath."

"Look, can I have it?" He laid out his hand.

I was irritated, but I handed it back to him with much reproach. He didn't leave, though. He sort of self-invited himself and inspected the unit while I dressed up. I didn't realize this but much later when I headed to the kitchen to find him scrutinizing the magnets. I wasn't so much surprised to find him there. It was just, like a little 'oh he's still here'.

"You're always alone?" he asked, the post it notes on the fridge door. No, actually, it was a comment. It went, instead, like "You're always alone."

I jumped to my defenses. "No, I live with my family, my dad and mom and one big brother who's by the way --"

"That's weird. I never see them." He turned to look at me with his dark eyes.

I was a lousy liar. He knew it. I knew it. "Weelll... actually, just my brother," I stammered. "My parents divorced a year ago."

"Oh that's sad.."

I forced a smile, walking to him casually. "Why am I telling this to you anyway? Oh by the way, do you want to eat? Just check out the fridge. I don't really eat dinner.."

"What?!" he cried out loud. "You don't eat dinner? Why, poor soul!" He grinned. "I can cook."

Again, he sort of self-invited himself to the kitchen and started cooking of what he could with the sparse supply available. But it was good.

~~~~@

And it was just like that. We just became friends. Maybe it became so much easier because we were both lonely. Josué's family died in a car accident a long time ago, and only had a rich uncle, now abroad, to support him.

For once, I was happy. Happy that the line was busy that day I called my brother. Happy my father was not there, and my mother's husband answered instead and that I hang up. And that Franchesca was on a business trip. Happy that no one was there for me when I needed them most. For what really if I had this fun young man arrested? I knew my life would be as dull, as empty as it was. The condo neither looked empty nor seemed empty, it neither smelled empty nor sounded empty, it didn't felt empty, and in fact, it wasn't empty.

I didn't mind my brother never went home. I didn't mind he didn't even call. Josué was there for me. He was the brother, the family I never had, wished I had, and now I had. I had the best time of my life.

We hang around, sometimes in our unit, sometimes in his [not so far away], we drank on the rooftop, we played cards, we played all sorts of games, we bet, we went around his bike, we rode the MRT and balanced ourselves without hands, he cooked and I ate. But most of all, I loved it when he played his violin. He seemed to change when he played, his eyes would have this strong emotions in them that I couldn't grasp, but only witness. His playing would touch something in me that I didn't understand, and the first time I heard him play, I ran, sank to his arms and cried.

He dropped his violin gently on the railing of the balcony. "Why? What's the matter?" he whispered in my ears.

I didn't know why. I just sank my head on his shoulder and cried. Maybe it was tears of ...immense sadness that piled up inside me, or anger.. or who knows? Maybe it was great joy. He didn't say anything much, and just cradled me gently in his arms. I never felt safer anywhere else.

~~~~@

Maybe it was fear of being parted from him that made me cry. Several days, weeks had passed - and before we knew it, few months. The semester was ending. Each day I felt getting closer and closer to him that I feared there might be a point there was no other way but to bounce back. But that fear never materialized. Josué seemed happy with my company. He never got tired of me and my silliness. He laughed a lot when teaching me to cook, smiled a lot at my mistakes, and was awfully patient. But the unthinkable happened -- he stopped stealing. He even gave me the sunglasses, which I kept hidden in my drawer until god knows when. I didn't know why -I never asked him to stop. But I never asked either.

Well, to say the least expected, my brother couldn't have done anything right. He spoiled our peacefulness by calling one day - my god - to "check on my baby sister", as he put it. I didn't expect it, though, and I was frozen when I heard his voice at the other end of the line. Suddenly, I was afraid somebody might have reported Josué. What if he comes home and arrests him?

I decided to ask. "So...how was your assignment going? I mean..Lunettes?"

When Josué heard this, he stopped eating and stared at me. 'Your brother?' he mouthed. I nodded. He walked to me and tried to listen to the phone. "We're very very close to catching him.. about an inch.." he laughed whole heartedly. I could imagine a mad scientist with an uncombed hair and arms outstretched at the other end of the line. "Although of course, it's kinda odd he disappeared for a while. Still, I believe we're very close."

My heart beat faster. What if he knew..? What if..? "Really?" I croaked out weakly. "Do you know where he is?"

To my relief he answered, "Not really," he said. "But the next time he shows up, I'm so prepared for it, there's no way he can escape. I can almost feel him."

Of course you can, I thought, he's just beside me. "That's good to hear," I tried to say cheerfully, but deep down I was scared. My brother sounded like he was certain. He was positive. He was happy. He even laughed. He never sounded anything like that before.

"Yeahhh," he went on cheerfully. "We know where he'd be next."

"Oh yeah? How come? Where?"

"Easy. I analyzed it. There was a pattern. He'd be at Anapolis station next."

"Is that so?" was all I could say.

"Anyway, I'll be home after I catch him. See ya." And he hang up.

Right then, I knew I had a choice. My brother or Josué? I hang up the phone, my hands trembling. I loved my brother, I'd want him to come home. But I also loved my Josué.

I turned to look up at him. Instead of looking flustered or frustrated, or even scared, there was a glint in his eyes, that read, 'Oh really?' "No, Josué, you can't." I clutched his hands firmly.

He looked at me, straight in the eyes. There was something in his dark eyes that was so hypnotic, and I was captivated again, lost my speech. "I never wanted to steal again, after I met you. For what is the point of stealing when you have so much?" He was silent, then smiled. "But give him a chance. He's given up his whole being to catch me. He's even given up you, his family, and his girlfriend. We can't ignore that. He deserves a chance. Even just one chance.."

I didn't get it, but I gave back what belonged to him - his sunglasses. A part of who he was. For what would Lunettes be, without himself?

~~~~@

So. There was no stopping either of them. I didn't know if it was pure kindness, or pure stupidity, or pure mischievousness that urged Josué to steal again - but one thing was clear - his intention was pure. On the 25th, he'd be there - Anapolis Station, 5 pm. I didn't understand what was going on in Josué's head, why he had to prove my brother correct with his theories, and when I asked, I was even more confused. Josué was so impressed with my brother's faith he was willing to risk it all, even his life.

He was so excited he even bought a new bike. I shook my head and didn't say anything. There was nothing I could say that could stop him. I learned that from my brother.

He told me to wait by the benches facing the sea at Palmera. Never be anywhere near Anapolis, or his condo. Behind the benches was a parking lot where he parked his newly bought bike. If he wasn't there by 5:45, he was probably caught. "Use this to go home," he told me with a wink as he threw the key at me. I hung it as a necklace, but prayed that nothing would happen to him. But the fact that I accepted the key signified I accepted the possibility.

I was there, sitting on the benches as early as 4 pm. I cut my classes. I was too distracted, there was no point attending them. I watched the sea, the sun blankly. A man sat down beside me, smoking. I checked on my watched. 5:17. Time flew so fast yet so slow.

5:19. 5:21. 5:29. The sun was setting. And it felt like I just sat down. I hugged my legs to my chest, burying my head to my knees. Seconds ticked by one by one.

Alas, it was quarter to 6 at my watch. Looking up, there was no sign of him anywhere. The only sound I heard was the calling of the waves, the breathing of the man beside me, laughter of a couple strolling by.

Five minutes later, still no Josué..

I pulled down my legs, preparing to go. But I couldn't push myself up. It seemed all the strength had drained down from my body.

Just then, a shadow loomed over the benches. And I cried.

~~~~@

But it didn't end there. My brother just had to call again and tell me the news, not a night after. I was cooking dinner as I promised Josué I would if he came out free, while Josué was "supervising".

"Guess what?" was my brother's happy voice. He didn't even say hello.

I didn't have to guess. "You saw Franchesca?" I replied without much interest.

"No, silly, much better than that. A whole lot better than that." Some boyfriend you are, I thought. No wonder she was jealous. She had every right to be jealous. He went on. "I was right. My theory was accurate. There was a pattern. He was there, today. In Anapolis, as I told you.."

"Oh great, congratulations," I cheered, but it went out something really icy, really sarcastic. I wish he'd hang up before -

Well, what do you know, it was too late. Josué came out from the kitchen asking if it was "him". I ignored him, but he went over to listen.

"You know where'd he be next?" my brother went on.

I sighed out loud, shaking my head. "No, no I don't. And I don't--" Josué clutched my arm. 'Give him a chance!' he mouthed, pleading me with his eyes. 'I already did!' I retorted. He folded his hands to a prayer-like manner, but I wasn't taking any of this crap anymore.

But my brother, just like the retard he always was, went on. "San Pedro church." And he went on chattering and chattering.

Josué's eyes shimmered with delight. Giving me a kiss on the forehead, he galloped back to the kitchen. "Hey!" I interrupted my brother. "I've had enough!!"

For the first time, he seemed to get it. He shut up. "Why? What's up?" he asked after a four-second silence. "Don't you want me to go home?" He sounded a little hurt.

Again, I mellowed down, although I could clearly understand why Franchesca dumped him. He was insensitive, but in a way, didn't mean to be. I groaned. "It's not that. It's just that.." I was quiet. "Well, I'm cooking. Maybe you can call next time. Bye." I hung up before he could say anything else. I knew what he'd say next, it would go something like, "What? You cook?" True, my brother was unpredictable, yet was also predictable, to some extent. Going back to the kitchen and watching Josué busy himself with the dinner, I could predict him as well. Like my brother, he was unpredictable but predictable.

~~~~@

Maybe I was not so much of a believer. That's why I didn't get this "faith" business Josué was talking about. For me, it was nuts. He was fond of my brother, I could tell. And for some reasons, I felt this strong pang of jealousy hit me when Josué would seem bent on making a show for my brother. It was the same jealousy I felt when my brother paid more attention to Lunettes. It was nuts.

Josué pleaded with me. Yet I knew he made up his mind. He cupped my face in his hands, making me stare at his dark, hypnotic eyes. "It's faith," was all he said. Then he bent down, and I thought he'd plant a kiss on my forehead. Unexpectedly, he kissed me on the mouth, a deep kiss. I was surprised, I thought I bit him, that I pushed him away to check his lip.

"It's bleeding," I said, gently touching his lower lip. His blood stained my finger. It was red. Very very red.

Without another word, he pulled me to him and resumed kissing me. I kissed him back, tasting his blood.

~~~~@

It didn't just happen one more time, but yet another, and another. And every time, I waited, I prayed, I worried, I suffered. I'd wait at the rooftop, checking at my watch nonstop. It felt so close. Everything I feared so close to happening. But every time, Josué would go home, with just a scratch here and there, a smile, a fond look on his face. And I'd feel this strong wave of jealousy over and over again. And I'd want to kiss him, to taste his blood, to feel him become an indispensable part of me, of who I was, to assure myself that he'd never slip away from me.

But I didn't. I never kissed him again. Every time, I smelled my brother, I felt my brother, and I was afraid I'd taste my brother. And yes, sometimes, I even feared it was my brother.

Every time, I'd beg Josué to play his violin for me. It seemed the only cure to this queer feeling inside me. It comforted me. It gave me this feeling of assurance, this taste of his blood in my mouth. And the weirdest of all - I understood all this business with faith.

What bliss his music filled me with! What would I not give to hear it the next time! I knew I'd give my life to hear it again. I'd even sell my soul for something so beautiful. I couldn't help myself, I ran to him and looked at him, straight in his dark dark eyes, that seemed to grow darker every second that you looked at it, and begged him. "Please don't stop. Please don't stop playing for me."

And I'd be happy, knowing, believing that nothing was purer in the world. Nothing else could make me feel this way. It's faith.

~~~~@

He stopped stealing that night. Not for my brother, not for his faith. Our lives resumed to what it was. Josué handed me back his sunglasses, which I kept hidden in my drawer. To me, it felt he handed a bit of himself to me. I was happy.

My brother didn't call, at least not for a long time. But when he did, he didn't sound so happy, unlike how he usually sounded before. Did he lose faith? "I want to see you. Come to benches in Palmera. I'd be there by 4 tomorrow." There was neither hello nor bye. He didn't even wait for my reply. He hung up.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Josué asked me the day after. We went to his place and slept there that night.

"I'd be fine," was my reply. I pulled him to a kiss.

He was caught by surprise that he bit me. I never showed any clues of aggression before that, and I could tell he was astonished by my sudden behavior. He pushed me back gently to inspect the cut on my lower lip. "It's bleeding," he told me, touching it gently with his finger.

Without another word, I pulled him back and resumed kissing. He kissed me back and I bet he tasted my blood.

~~~~@

I was late for about 5 minutes. My brother was there on the same bench that I was when I arrived. He looked formal, in a suit and a tie and a pair of sunglasses, though still uncombed with his goatie. Probably it was his everyday wear in the office, which I may have forgotten or never really got used to. In fact, I was close to not recognizing him until he looked up and nodded, patting the space next to him.

I sat down. "What's up? You could have called home."

He was straight to the point, the cop that he was. "I want to ask you something." He took out something from his inside pocket. "Is this you?" He handed me a photo, a silhouette of two figures. One was me, and other was Josué, taken after the first theft at Anapolis.

I looked at it, narrowing my eyes. I recognized my shadow, as dark as Josué's eyes. "No," I said, shaking me head and handing it back to him. "Who is it, anyway?"

He adjusted his sunglasses, looked at me for a while before putting it back. "Good. At first look, I saw you. But eyes are deceiving. I'm just glad it's not you." I didn't say anything. "Where were you last night? I called," he went on, unable to mask the severity of his tone of a cop.

I felt my heart pound in my chest, but fortunately, I was a better liar than I thought. "At a friend's. Doing a project."

"I'll be home next week."

I was shocked. What happened to his 'faith'? "When?" I bit my lip. I almost asked why. That'd arouse his suspicion.

"Yeah I know." Turning to me, he pinched my cheek lightly. "I was never there for my little sister. Now I decided to re-shuffle my priorities. Just wait, I'll finish this last task assigned to me, and I'll be home next week. Can't yet tell when exactly, but this time, you can count on your brother." He grinned.

I tried to grin back, feeling my heart sinking. Or maybe it was a confused feeling that I have. Not only of happiness, but also of dread, of sadness, of anger...and even of guilt. I wasn't guilty because I lied to him. I felt that pang of guilt because I had chosen Josué over him, my brother, and there he was, finally choosing me, over Lunettes. And still, there I was, choosing Josué / Lunettes over him even when he decided to come back. There didn't seem any way to change my sentiments. Sometimes, it's just too late. After you'd been away from home for a long time, don't expect everything to be the same. In fact, nothing will ever be the same. You can't ever go home again.

~~~~@

I told Josué of my conversation with my brother. He wasn't so disturbed about the photo, but more on this "faith" thing. He didn't say it, but his dark eyes told more than words could say. For a long while, he was just staring in space, stunned as he sat on a chair. I wished I could read something like, 'omg, this meant we could no longer be together.' but instead, it read like, 'what happened to his faith?' I didn't expect such reaction. Then his eyes darted to the violin. It seemed, that time, I could see through his mind. Deep down, he blamed his music for the lost of my brother's faith. He played for me, forgetting to reward my brother and his faith. To put it simply, he felt guilt that he chose me over my brother.

I couldn't take what I comprehended. Running to him, I knelt down before him, clutching his face in my hands. "It's just like that, Josué. People...give up. It's not your fault. Not anyone's fault."

He looked down at me, and once again, his dark eyes cast spells. But he smiled gently, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Does this mean we can't hang out anymore?"

"Yes we will!" He didn't say anything, but I could tell he didn't believe me. I pulled him closer. "Where's your faith?"

This time, a big genuine smile spread across his comely face.

~~~~@

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. No phone call, no nothing, no brother. For three nights, I was alone in the condo. I told Josué he couldn't stay, or my brother might arrive anytime. We didn't even hang out in our unit anymore - it was always his place in fear of my brother's arrival. I was bored. I hated myself for waiting and expecting. What if it was one of my brother's lies? What if he stood me up? For all I care, that man I met on the bench - who knows, he could not have been my brother! I didn't know him anymore, and I couldn't trust his word. What if something got into his crazy mind? What if, really, he was obsessed in not going home?

On Thursday 8pm, the phone rang. Without much interest, I grabbed it. Much to my surprise, it was Josué. He didn't wait for my hello. "I can't take this anymore. I'm going there." And he hang-up before I could say good-bye. Before I could stop him.

In less than half an hour, he was in the condo. He came in by the still broken sliding door in my room. "What are you doing here?" I demanded. "You know, my bro - "

He put a finger on my lips. "He won't be here. I know." Give me a break. Has this something to do with "faith" again? I wanted to scream. Josué planted a kiss on my forehead and sat next to me. I didn't say a thing.

But then, not a minute later, I thought I saw my brother. I felt him coming. I heard him coming. I looked at Josué, panic-stricken. "He's in the elevator. You gotta go."

"You're paranoid."

"I have the right to be! Now leave!" He wouldn't budge, I wouldn't stop, so we met halfway. He must wait outside, in the balcony, and see if I was just paranoid or what. If I turn out to be correct, he leaves of course. No question about it.

I didn't know how I sensed it, but I was right. Before I knew it, I heard the key being turned. I tried to sit casually in the sofa, flipping the remote. I sensed him, I heard him, I felt him. Even though I wasn't looking, I saw him before.. before actually seeing him. Faith? I wouldn't like to think so. Then I tasted the blood in my mouth.

Blood is thicker than water, after all, as they always say.

"Hey there, lil sis," he boomed cheerfully. God, I wished Josué heard it and left.

I turned with my casual grin. "Hey, you're home." I turned back to the TV.

"Oh man, I missed the smell of this place," I heard him mutter to himself, hanging his coat. On the corner of my eyes - or maybe I wasn't even looking - but I saw him place his gun on the counter. I felt a hand on my shoulder and suddenly, he was behind me, whispering in my ear. "Hey, no hug?"

I was caught by surprise. Paranoid. "What? Oh, hug? But... we just met last week."

He rolled his eyes. He hadn't shaved or combed his hair. I smelled his last meal. "It wouldn't hurt, would it?"

Fine. I gave him a hug. Just so he'd stop. Honestly, I was afraid he'd feel my heart in my chest, but luckily, he was too reluctant to go around the house. It was odd that his coming home was so much of a big deal, like a relative who had been living in some far away place and came back to pay a visit. I didn't know how I felt, my eyes glued on the TV, watching my every breath. A part of me felt relief that he finally came home, but a greater part felt remorse and disappointment. Still, it wasn't this minor and major feelings that bothered me that moment. It was all this little feelings - of guilt, of fear, of anxiety, of confusion - that made it very uneasy. They were like little needles, pricking me on the side, though never much of a big problem, but nonetheless, never going away, reminding me of their existence - and the reason behind it.

I didn't know how much time passed, but he was walking back on the living room and was heading to my room. Immediately, I jumped to my feet and ran to the door, ahead of him. "You're not going in my room., are you?" Then I bit my lip. Great. Of all the things I could say..

His eyebrows knotted. "And why not? I'm just going around..."

My paranoia and nervousness got me. I started stammering, biting my nails. "We-we-well..."

A big smile suddenly spread on his face as he continued to walk forward. "Don't tell me you've had your period already! Don't worry, it's awfully normal, you see --"

I groaned. "I've had my period for 6 years."

Shutting up, he blinked. "Is that so?" Then his eyes lit up again. "Then maybe... you have a surprise for me. I mean, reverse psychology? You know --"

"No, it's just that --"

But before I could even finish the next word, he had burst in the room and had turned on the lights. He was fast.

All this time, my eyes were shut, and I prayed that Josué was somewhere else. Then I heard him gasp. My god.

"Oh my!"

I opened my eyes, fearing what I might see. But he was just there, gaping at the broken sliding door, opening to an empty balcony. I sighed out loud.

He spun to me, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, it's a surprise alright." Then he winked at me. "But your off the hook. I can't bear to be upset when I just got home after such a long time, you know."

I sighed again. "Th-thanks."

I didn't know why he had to stay, why he had to go through my things. I bet he didn't really 'inspect' the other rooms. Maybe he had sensed something. It was like the cop in him just had to scrutinize every little dust on my desk. Come to think of it, he didn't even ask why or how I got the sliding door broken. Then, I saw his fingers reaching for the handle of the drawer, and I remembered something and screamed for him to stop. But my brother was fast.

Suddenly, he was just holding the sunglasses in his hands, delicately holding them by the bridge of the nose. It was the cop in him - he didn't want to mess up with the fingerprints. I was glued on the door, my nails digging on the metal doorknob. My hands were cold, but sweaty.

He turned to me, sternly. He wasn't my brother. He was... he was... just a cop. "So, whose are these?" His eyes tried to be gentle, but I felt the fire in him grow, and this disabled him from camouflaging gentleness.

"Mine." I said in a little voice.

He looked at it over and over again, close up, inspecting every little spot. And he turned to me, fiercer. "No, they're not."

I forced out a laugh. "What? My fingerprints aren't there?"

Then, he was walking towards me, our eyes locked. It was the cop in him. It was forcing out the truth in me, forcing my mouth to talk. I bit my lip hard. I was scared. And then, he was not a foot away. His eyes were cold.... and deadly.

Before I could say anything, though, someone just had to interrupt us. "Hey, what are you doing to her?"

Josué. In the balcony. Who else? I didn't know whether or not to be thankful, to be angry or to be scared. My brother spun on his heel and met Josué, face to face. He didn't ask for explanation. No one spoke.

My brother was trembling. The sunglasses fell from his hands. It was like he finally saw the love of his life in a see-through night gown. "You're.."

Josué shrugged casually. "Correct."

I wanted to hit him. He could have denied it. He could have done anything but admit it. But no, I sense all this had to do with my brother's faith. It was a reward. I got a hold of myself. "Look, Josué's my friend. He's awfully nice and.."

But my brother wouldn't stop, like he couldn't hear me. He was walking slowly towards my brother, I couldn't tell if it was in disbelief or the exact opposite. It was like he had finally seen God and wanted to touch Him, feel Him with his fingers.

It could be a product of man's sometimes awfully twisted nature, but that was when I felt the strongest wave of jealousy over the two of them. It was like, suddenly, they had forgotten over me. I knew it wasn't the right time to be jealous, and it wasn't the right emotion at that moment. I should be worried they might fight or kill each other. Instead, I was afraid they might like each other... in the non romantic sense of way of course. Angrily, I stamped my foot and got in between them, my arms outstretched as I faced my brother. "You're not touching him without coming through me first."

My brother blinked, snapping out of his illusions. Or whatever he was suffering. "Look, you lied to me. How can you lie to your brother! And about him! You know how much he means to me!"

I hated the sound of that. "You never go home. I tried to call you and you're never there. You're just never there!" It was suddenly a family drama.

Then a hand was on my shoulder. "Hey, don't be harsh on your brother. He just went home."

I couldn't believe my ears. Was Josué siding with me brother? It was my worst fear actualizing itself. They were joining forces against me!

My brother's eyes narrowed at him. "Don't try to win me over. You're going where you deserve to be. As for --"

"Don't you dare attempt to touch him!" I warned my brother.

"Look," my brother started. But the cop couldn't be stopped. He just had to hit me, sending me flying to the corner. And they were wrestling each other, at the speed I couldn't guess. My brother was never fast, but me must have studied that skill in his goal to catch Lunettes.

I ran past the door to the counter where I remembered his gun was. Then, I was back in my room, threatening to shoot. Both of them stopped. Now it was time to decide. My brother or Josué? Wait, it wasn't my brother per se, it was the cop _or_ Josué. At least, I was given the privilege to have the final say.

"What are you gonna do, shoot your own brother?" My brother taunted confidently. I didn't know if he meant it, or again, it was just the cop in him, but it made me upset.

"Oh god, no!" was Josué's scream. He could read my eyes.

Well, I have decided. I'm getting rid of that cop. Maybe he'll get back to..to.. to himself. And I pulled the trigger.

But, my, Jouse just had to join.

~~~~@

So. I watched in dread as Josué's body lay still, atop my brother, covered with blood. I didn't know where I hit him, but he had to be alive. He had to be. Odd. I couldn't taste the blood in my mouth anymore. I was motionless, or it seemed like time itself froze. Until my brother tried to sit up. "No, shit." For some weird reasons, I knew he was back. Not the cop, not the freak obsessed over Lunettes, not the lunatic who pushed me to the corner a while ago. I found myself just saying, "Welcome home."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" he yelled at me. He was panicking, in a civilian sort of way. Letting the gun go, I cried, falling down on the floor. It was like Josué's blood changed him back to what he was. But my brother was freaking out. Very civilian-like. Oh my god. It's faith."FUCK IT! STOP CRYING!" he boomed again. Then he tried to relax and assemble himself while holding Josué's body.

I got a hold of myself and helped him. Josué was still alive, shot..

I gasped. Right there, in the center. In the heart.

~~~~@

Maybe the incident turned us back into the normal people we were. After we got back to our senses - I mean I got back to myself, we managed to bring him to the hospital. It was probably hours - or minutes. I just couldn't tell. Who knows, it could have been years. There was just so little difference between seconds and years. Finally, we were just there, outside the operating room, not knowing what to feel. I couldn't stop crying.

"Tell me, who is he?" my brother asked me gently, sitting next to me on the floor. The old genuine gentleness was back. I was trembling, crying nonstop. I couldn't speak, I couldn't see all through the tears. But I felt him pull me a tight hug, and I was just crying all over his shoulder. "I know who he is," he whispered in my ear. "He's the man you love." Then, he pulled me away, wiping all my tears, looking at me straight in the eyes. "If you love him, if you want him to live, you gotta have faith."

That time, the mention of faith didn't bother me. If faith could bring my Josué back, I'd sell my soul for it.

~~~~@

And yes, it must be faith. Faith which caused miracles. Or maybe there were no miracles. It was all part of this sometimes awfully twisted reality we live in. but I didn't care - Josué lived.

I didn't know how they did it, but I couldn't care any less. He was in the hospital longer - like around two months. And the good news was, my brother backed me up all the way. It seemed the cop in him never became a part of him. There was no trace of the cop at all. Not even of the obsessed freak who hunted Lunettes. He decided to work out something to make it look like Lunettes had died, or had permanently disappeared and the cops had no clue. It was of course, bad image to his side and to his co-cops, but what is image to his sister's happiness? And yes, you guessed wrong - I never talked him into it. He just decided out of his sympathetic civilian heart. Or maybe weighed it out in his civilian reasoning. It didn't matter which - except it was civilian.

To top things off, he had told me he planned to file for Josué's guardianship after he had been released in the hospital. He also intended to quit his job and look for a more... "time-generous" job, since he'd be watching over two kids.

The good thing was, it wasn't just a plan. It actualized. After he was released, Josué's uncle granted my brother "temporary rights to guardianship" even with "the appropriate allowance" for Josué's "survival". And not only that, but he and Franchesca "kissed and made-up".

Josué stayed with us, but he couldn't do much. He stopped school temporarily and was allowed only the minimal job. But he was allowed to play his violin. God, was I happy! Happy to have the two men of my life together - and without me getting all hyper and jealous about it. Same thing goes for Franchesca.

~~,~'~;@

Maybe it was all a part of this "awfully twisted" reality we live in, or a product of man's "sometimes awfully twisted nature", but it happened. Just happened.

I was in the bathroom, taking my daily afternoon/early evening bath while Josué played his violin outside, when I noticed something sitting there, near the sink...

Lunettes. I mean, his sunglasses.

It was like a memory of the past invading the present. I didn't know it was still "existing", and I absolutely have no idea how it got there. At first, I felt disgust...then suddenly..

I couldn't explain it, but I guess it was like when my brother's fingers reached for the drawer handle like the fingers had its own mind, telling them to pull the drawer open. The same thing happened to me, I believe. I felt my fingers moving towards the sunglasses, and I just had to put it on. Come to think of it, I never tried it on.

So there, reaching for it, I gave in to temptation and put it on. I had nothing on, but that sunglasses, and I watched myself in the mirror. My dripping hair, my wet skin.. and the sunglasses.

Outside, I heard Josué play a dramatic song. I remember the first time I heard it - I cried. I didn't completely understand the feeling then, I was a little...confused. But now, feeling the sunglasses on, looking through them, I was certain I understood. I watched my naked body before me. What would you not give for something so pure?

I took it off and looked at myself in the mirror. I just noticed my eyes were actually..dark.. so dark themselves.

So Lunettes lived again.

/version 2 : started- october?xx-finished : november 6, 2002, 10:10 pm © Sakeena