A Pearl and a Secret

10.

I was completely shocked. I felt like the air I was breathing was useless and my hands were clammy. I had so many questions, for my grandma, for my parents...How the hell did no one tell me I had a brother my whole life?

I couldn't move, I was stuck, as still as a droplet of rain that suddenly freezed up. I faintly heard my grandmother's voice asking me if I was okay again. It was enough for me to stand up in a daze and head to the filing cabinet to put the secret-concealing folder back in its place.

I opened the drawer and skimmed through the folders one last time. My eyes stopped at the photo albums. Huh. I didn't know I had two. I pulled the furthest one out and almost choked when I saw it was written Benji. This was Benji's photo album.

I was already so overwhelmed, I didn't know if I could take more surprises and secrets, but I flipped the first page open anyways. The first photo was of my parents, at the hospital, holding their newborn baby. I was 5, and looking over the baby in awe. They looked so happy. I wanted to rip this picture to shreds. They didn't have the right to be that happy if they gave him up for adoption.

My knees wobbled under my weight when I saw the next picture. 'Benji and Alden, 2 and 7,' the caption said.  I was hugging him in the picture, and I looked like I never wanted to let go.  There Benji was, a tiny brown-haired boy, and I suddenly realized something.  He was the boy from my nightmares. 

I let myself stumble to sit on the floor and I couldn't help the tears that rolled down my face.  This immense feeling of sadness, betrayal and anger washed over me, as if I was reliving the day I lost him all over again.  I heard footsteps coming closer and closer, but I didn't care anymore.  I didn't care about anything anymore, my whole life was a lie. 

"Oh, Alden," Grandma Pearl immediately saw the photo albums, the folder and the crying mess that was myself.  I couldn't even look at her.  How could the one person I trusted more than anyone else keep something like this from me?

She made a move to hug me, but I was mad, I was so horribly mad.  "Don't touch me," I spat.  She looked taken aback for a moment, then her traits softened.  "Come, let's sit on the bed," she coaxed gently.

My jaw clenched.  "How could you keep this from me?? How could my parents keep this from me?? He's my brother!!" I yelled.  I couldn't hold it in anymore, so I just let myself break down and new tears sprung from my eyes. 

"Come on, let's sit on the bed, I can explain everything," my grandma repeated.  This time, I obliged and followed her to the bed.  I crashed down on it and sobbed.  My shoulders shook and all I could feel was pain and hurt.  I cried for a long time, and my grandma waited until I had calmed down to "explain."

Explain what? How she had kept this enormous secret from me for 10 years? How she had kept my brother's existence from me?

I sighed and waited for her to speak. "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry," she started. Tears welled up in her eyes and I knew she meant it, but it just quite wasn't enough.

"When you were 3, you asked for a little brother for the first time. Your parents were suprised, they had never planned for another kid. You continued asking for a baby brother until you were 5. Then, you learned that you were going to have a little brother. You were so happy. You came crashing in here as soon as your mother told you she was pregnant. Your smile, it was so overwhelmed with joy. You couldn't wait for him to be born.

And when he was born, you were even happier, if that was even possible. You would hold him tight and rock him gently, you would give him his bottle while gazing at him, complain that he was boring and didn't want to play with you. He got older, you got older, and the two of you were inseparable. You had the little brother you'd always wanted. But he had yet to say 'Mama' or 'Dada' at 2 years old. He could only say 'Den', which was his own version of your name. Your name, Alden.

Benji barely talked, if only to say your name or the word pear, he didn't like to look at anyone in the eyes and whenever someone dropped a dish or made a loud noise, he'd cover his ears and have a breakdown. He was always lost in his own world where he couldn't hear us or see us except when he wanted to. He got diagnosed with autism when he was 2.

Your mother and father decided to put him up for adoption. They said it was too much for them, maybe they couldn't handle his own way to show his love. I never agreed and will never agree with the decision they made, that's why I haven't spoken to my son or your mother more than 'hello' over these last few years.

It's also why I could never say goodbye to Benji. I loved him so much, I couldn't let go. I went to see him everyday at the adoption center until the best foster family he could ask for chose him and later adopted him.  They actually live close by, so I went to see them and I said, 'I'm his biological grandmother and I would like nothing more than to be a part of his life.' They're so incredibly kind, they accepted, so I still see Benji at least once a week," she finished.

I took a minute to process everything my grandma had just told me. It was a lot. I realized then that my nightmares weren't actually nightmares, they were memories. The same memory I replayed in my head over and over again was when my parents made me abandon the person I loved most.

A rush of anger flowed through me. This was all so unfair, how could my grandma be a part of his life and not me?

"Why didn't you tell me before?" I asked ever-so-quietly. This was the question that had been torturing me from the moment I found out I had a brother.

Grandma Pearl shut her eyes for a moment, collecting her thoughts.  "Do you remember how you got that scar on your arm?" she said, purposely avoiding to answer my question.  She was referring to the thin, white scar I had on my left arm from falling off my bike. 

But now that she'd mentioned it, I didn't actually remember falling off my bike, I only remembered my parents telling me that story.  I frowned.  "No, I don't, actually," I replied. 

"Benji did that to you.  You two were doing some arts and crafts thing and he accidentally scratched you with his scissors on your left arm.  He felt so bad.  I think the accident was one of the reasons your parents let him go, they didn't know if he would hurt them.  But you and I both know he wasn't capable of doing that," she smiled softly as she told me the real story behind my scar.

It made much more sense.  I'd always wondered how falling off a bike could create a scar like the long, thin one I had.  But Grandma Pearl still wasn't answering my burning question. 

As if she was reading my thoughts, she started, "You know how all your memories before 8 years old are...fuzzy? Some non-existent, even?" I nodded, thinking about how I didn't remember Automn from preschool.

She continued and I listened closely, "That's because losing Benji was such a traumatic experience for you it made you forget everything associated to him.  I didn't tell you, because I didn't want to cause you this exact sadness, this exact anger.  I didn't want you to delve into this immense pain and lose yourself in the process."