Child sexual abuse: O, brother mine!

Read part six here.

Read part five here.

Read part four here.

Read part three here.

Read part two here.

Read part one here.

"Affliction's sons are brothers in distress; A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!" - Robert Burns

I was settling down to a plate of nachos slathered with cheese, after a workout at the gym - something that I had been looking forward to all day, the cheese, that is, not the workout - when I received a slew of WhatsApp messages from my brother, Jon.

"Sis," it began.

"Can talk?

Sometimes I need my sister, you know what I mean?

I am the youngest and all... and I have always been close to you.

I hope that doesn't change.

I feel that we are drifting apart.

And I really hope that doesn't happen."

I stared mutely at the screen, my thoughts tied up in knots. I shoved a generous spoonful of nachos into my mouth, bits of cheese clinging on like rejected flotsam, while I tried to formulate a response.

"My brother just WhatsApped me. Like a whole bunch! Seven new messages, arggh," I told my dinner companion, a fellow sufferer from the same gym. She nodded sympathetically, partaking of the same dish, slightly less enthusiastically than I was. Nachos and cheese is a dream meal for me. Only because one should not have it too often, and therefore, one craves what one cannot have. I am a simple creature. Really.

While she had a smoke after dinner and tried to find her chit in her handbag to give to the parking lot guy, the like of whom swarm like vultures over us drivers, extracting the odd rupee or so for having purportedly kept an eye over our vehicles whilst we ate, I sat in the passenger seat and furiously typed out the following responses. The more messages, the better, I thought, for the parity.

"No no no," mine began.

"I've been trying to cope with memories of my child sexual abuse.

Triggered by my NGO work here with children.

So I can't talk to you guys until I am in a good place.

And I think I'm reaching that point now. Thank God.

Please explain to Mama if you can. Will try to Skype weekend after but have a work trip scheduled."

I was curious to see how my brother would respond. It was the first time that I had mentioned the abuse I went through as a child to Jon. I had never talked to him directly about it. My mother had told him. Mama knows how close Jon and I are, despite or maybe, because of our six year gap.

I think my father and my middle brother still do not know - it is so very strange to have this secret still within the family. I keep thinking to myself that we must be the Asian version of Virginia Andrews' Flowers in the Attic, except that this is for real.

In the morning, I checked my phone. No response from Jon.

Me: "Meoow?"

I am not sure why we behave like cats to each other, but we always have. I think his wife finds it a little odd. Whatever.

Him: "Woof."

Me: "Meooowwrr."

Me: "Love you. Always have. Always will."

I teared up as I said it, because I know this to be true.

Him: "Same here. Do know that I will always be by your side, no matter what."

Sweet, sweet brother of mine.