They said reality is wilder than whatever our collective fantasy could conjure and now I believed that saying. I would have never dreamed of seeing my brother having his stomach pumped while his body convulsed like crazy, but here I was, holding his shaky hand tightly while his crying husband tried to listen to what the ER nurses said and Moira put an arm around me. "He's gonna be okay, honey," she whispered. "The nurses are doing the absolute best they can to help him."

"Yes, we are," one of the nurses chimed in. "We're sending his bloodwork to a toxicologist who can determine the next course of action and we're notifying his psychiatrist to see if he should be monitored for at least 72 hours in an isolated psychiatric ward. In the meantime, seeing as he isn't in the right frame of mind to speak for himself, I need to ask for your consent," she turned to face Kenta. "Do you give us permission to sedate him so that he wouldn't injure himself?"

"How long would he be on sedative?" Kenta asked. "And we're all watching him closely, aren't we? We'll make sure he's not in danger of injuring himself any more than he already did."

"He doesn't have to be sedated if you object, sir. We can simply strap him to restrainers."

"No, I don't think he would appreciate being restrained." Kenta put his hand on Johan's cheek. "I'm not leaving his side. I'm making sure he's not gonna try anything stupid when he wakes up, I promise. So, please, leave him be. He's already confused and scared as it is."

"If you insist, sir. Ring the bell when he is awake so the doctor can check up on him."

When the nurses left, Kenta asked me if I wanted to let Nardhia know of what transpired.

"She should be notified, yes." I nodded. "Could you do that? I'm gonna call my mom. I have a feeling that she's been lying to us and hiding the truth about dad. I mean, I know Johan has been dealing with psychotic symptoms but the person he keeps seeing in his hallucination is Sherlyn, right? Why would he suddenly start seeing dad? Something must have triggered him."

"You could be onto something." Kenta stroked his chin. "Okay, I'm gonna call Nardhia while you're calling your mother. Good luck, Nardho," he patted my back. "Hope she cooperates."

----

The chilly night air hit my face as I walked outside to get some privacy. Shivering, I punched in my mom's number and crossed my fingers. Moira held my other hand and smiled warmly.

"Clara Sitohang here, who am I speaking to?" my mom finally picked up. "Wait, this is a call from Red Sycamore. Nardho, is that you, son? We haven't spoken in months!"

"Yeah, sorry about that, mom, life has been crazy but tonight is the craziest." I inhaled before mustering the courage to recount the dumpster fire of a situation I just witnessed. "Mom, are you aware that Johan has not been mentally sound lately? Right now Kenta is watching him in the ER because it seems he's fallen into the dark hole of alcoholism once more."

"Oh, no. I shouldn't have hang up too quickly when he called me several hours ago! I should have stayed on the phone to comfort him instead of telling him to stop being ridiculous."

"He called you? Mom, what were you talking about? Why did he call you?"

"Nardho, your big brother was crying on the phone, saying that he's gonna cut himself. I know he used to be a cutter when he was in college, but I thought he was just pranking me so I told him to stop being dramatic. He then said that he thought Jesus is the real prankster. I asked him what he meant by that and he said he saw Petrus when he was done visiting his psychiatrist's office. He wanted to know why Petrus would be seeing a shrink but I just hang up."

"Mom! Petrus as in my dad? What's going on? I thought he died more than a decade ago."

"Yes, we don't know any other Petrus, do we? I'm sorry, son, I shouldn't have kept a huge secret from you and your siblings." Her voice grew softer. "Your dad isn't dead yet. I fed you, Nardhia, and Johan a load of lies to spare you the heartache and to keep your expectation low. The truth is, he's been sending me emails ever since I divorced him. I never sent him a reply because I'm still bitter about how he treated Johan. One letter in particular, from about fifteen years ago, contained an apology. Since I don't believe your dad was sincere in apologizing, I ignored him."

"Mom!" I tried not to yell at her but my mouth defied me. "Take a screenshot of that email, I have to let Johan know so that I can reassure him that he wasn't hallucinating this time."

"It's not a good idea, Nardho. What if Petrus wasn't being genuine and just wanted to get back together with me because he hasn't been leading a comfortable life ever since the divorce?"

"I don't care, you have no right to deceive Johan like this!" I snapped. "Stop with your deceit."

"Son, I was just trying to protect your brother from getting hurt even more if it turns out Petrus' emails are just bullshit. Since you're so insistent, though, I'll tell you what this sorry excuse of a father has been up to. He's homeless and is a junkie who abuses a cocktail of meth, cocaine, heroin, and God only knows what else. He swore in the emails that for the last couple years he's been trying to get clean but I don't buy it. He also told me that he's been wanting to quit smoking since, guess what, he's suffering from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease just like you did. Well, what do you think, son? Do you believe him or are you on my side?"

"I'm not picking side, mom, but did you say dad has COPD? How long has he been battling that disease? Mom, if he's not bluffing, that could mean he's dying!"

"Not necessarily. I mean, you survived, right? I'm sure he's not gonna die."

"We don't know that, mom! I'm only alive because of Lee's generosity. Not everyone is lucky enough to secure lungs for transplantation, though. What if dad is the unlucky one?"

"Nardho, I understand that in your heart of hearts you love your dad, but let's not get ahead of ourselves and think with a cool—"

"No, don't tell me what to do! I'm not taking my chances! I want to see dad."

"Nardho..." my mom sighed in exasperation. "Okay, if you're certain. It's not like I can stop you from tracking him down yourself, especially since he is in your area, if Johan's claim of seeing him in a psychiatrist's office is to be taken seriously. I'm going to text you his current address."

"Thank you very much, mom." I said before ending the call.

I was ready to go back to the ER when a notification flashed on my phone screen. My mom had sent me a text saying she would book a ticket to Red Sycamore to see Johan and also to confront dad herself to confirm everything he had written on the email.

"Well, Moira, guess what?" I showed my wife the text. "A family reunion is on its way."