He chose to wait in the living room.
Each moment seemed to drag like a raindrop gathering and hanging, waiting to
fall, breathless in anticipation and a lifetime in passing. He could hear the
sound of cutlery clinking in the kitchen and imagined her putting the plates
away. It brought a smile to his face – a woman in his kitchen?
That was a first, other than his mom of course. At that thought, his smile
widened as he thought how his mother would react.
His thoughts wandered like a puff of
cloud blown around by the wind, never staying in one place, caroming off
everything that it touched, never settling, and always hovering. He realized
with a start that the sounds had died down from the kitchen and an unnerving
silence hung heavy. She had not come out of the kitchen. He debated on whether
to go and see what was happening, better sense holding him back at each
thought. Finally all good sense was damned as his curiosity got the better of
him and he rose as quietly as he could so that he would not startle her.
He stopped at the entrance to the
kitchen, transfixed as he saw her resting her head on the cupboard door, arms
held stiffly at her sides like she had been placed in restraints. Eyes closed,
she had not heard him come in and was lost in her own world, a private hell
that he was not part of but could see its impact as she passed through every
hot stinking mess. Shudders shook her, rocking and buffeting her until he
thought she must fall. Still, he stood there, unable to move, an alien in his
own home. Finally the shudders seemed to subside, now replaced by racking sobs
as the agony seeped out, black and ugly, swamp mud oozing out onto fresh green
shoots of spring.
He could not hold back any longer and
moved closer, still trying to stay away, a moth that circles its fatal
attraction. His hand rose to touch and comfort, hesitant and drawn, unsure in
its direction, drawing back just at the point of contact, afraid of the
impending reaction. Finally, with all the courage he could draw on, his hand
travelled the distance to her shoulder, settling there like a bird on a wire,
ready to take off at a moment’s notice. She froze at the touch, completely
still and taut as the wire he was settled on. Then, she suddenly whipped
around, her eyes half crazed, agony around the edges of what was a blaze of
anger that threatened to crucify him. He felt raw and exposed in his
infringement. His hand fell to his side and without a word, he turned and
walked away.
Not knowing what to do, he felt like
an intruder in his own home. Taking his keys, he let himself out of the house,
gently closing the door. Eyes unseeing, still held by a blaze quite unlike any
he had ever seen, he walked on, legs on auto pilot as he struggled to free his
mind. Head bent, he plodded on, thinking that he had never been exposed to
emotions so raw in all his sheltered life. A dawn was breaking, orange against
the sky and ethereal as it lit the world clashing with the yellow of the
halogen streetlights that were still on. People were up and moving, still half
asleep as they struggled with their daily routines. He was oblivious to all of
this as he walked on, trying to make sense out of nothing. A sudden squeal of
tires woke him from his reverie and he suddenly realized that he was in the
middle of the street, right in front of an irate driver who was bestowing a
string of curses and the finger on him. Without a word, he crossed the street,
trying to find his bearing. He realized that he had come quite a way, probably
been walking about an hour in his daze. He debated about walking back and then
thought the better of it and flagged an auto to head back to his apartment and of
course, her.
He did not know what he would say or
do when he saw her. He thought of all the excuses that he could make up and
discarded each even before he thought it through. He could only imagine her
anger at his intrusion and her unforgiving glare at his inane mumblings of do –
goodedness. While he was trying to think of what to say in vain, he realized
that he had reached his apartment and the auto driver was wondering why he was
not responding to his request for money. Quickly paying up and not haggling
over the change, he made his way into the apartment, into the elevator that
seemed to be on overdrive as it hurried to his floor without a pause for once.
As he walked down the corridor to his
door, he noticed that it was still locked, unwelcoming and forbidding in its
silence, half lit by the glare of the lamp in the hallway. He stopped
uncertainly outside his door and after a long pause, lifted his hand to ring
the doorbell. Suddenly realizing that she might be asleep and that he would
disturb her, he decided to use his key to let himself in. He started turning
the key in the door and was surprised to hear the door being unlocked from the
inside. With a sudden swing, the door opened and she stood there, teary eyed and
desolate, a small lost urchin. His heart turned over as he said, ‘I am sorry
….’ His words trailed off as she suddenly broke down and rushed in to hold him.
The shock of the contact of her body rooted him rigid to the spot where he
stood, arms hanging stiffly at his sides. She had buried her face in his shirt
front and he could hear her sobs and feel her tears as they seeped in through
his shirt.
After a time, she sensed his rigidity
and his distance and lifted her head to look at him, accusing and blaming. He
wondered what his crime now was. She said, ‘Where did you go and leave me
alone?’ This brought a fresh burst of sobs and she retreated into his shirt
front. His heart turned over, his arms thawed and rose to hold her, loosely
comforting, unsure in their solace and support. There was none of the blaze now
and his pent up frustration released itself in a sigh that shook him as much as
it did her. Suddenly embarrassed, she withdrew and his loose embrace broke as
easily as it had formed. She stood a little distance away, not saying a word.
The silence stretched out until it
became intolerable, hurting in its loudness, the walls rebounding with words
unsaid, emotions unbalanced. Neither could find it in them to make a move or
say anything. And it went on, each standing in their own corner, the ring
deserted, not sure whether this is a battle or peace. Unable to bear it, she
turned and made as if to go into the kitchen. He found his voice finally, the
one that seemed to have gone away on a far away journey of its own when he
needed it most. He raised his hand as if to stop her and said, ‘I am sorry
about before’ She turned around and looked at him, eyes still brimming, and
said ‘I am sorry for the way I reacted, you meant well and I turned on you when
you were trying to help’ He did not know how to respond to that and stayed
where he was. She continued as if he did not need to respond, ‘I came and you
had left. I waited and waited, not knowing what to do. I was afraid that you
had left and I had nowhere else to go.’
‘I had to get some air and clear my
head’, he said and threw his keys on the table in the corner. The keys slid and
fell off the table with a thump. Both made as if they would go to retrieve the
keys and both stopped, started again and then stopped. He laughed, grateful for
the respite that the keys gave from the situation. And moved to pick up the
keys and place them on the table. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked. Shaking her head,
she offered to make them some coffee. ‘I’ll help you’ he said as they moved to
the kitchen. He filled the percolator as she took out the cups. As they waited
for the coffee to drip, she said ‘It is going to be seven o’clock. Don’t you
have to go to work?’ He realized he had not given a single thought to his
normal life and the routine that he used to follow. Shaking his head, he
realized, he could not bear to go to work, not like this, not leaving her
behind. Without bothering to explain his feelings to himself, he went to get
his phone and messaged his boss that he was unwell and would not be able to
come into work that day.
As he nursed his cup of coffee,
sitting on the cane chairs in the balcony, overlooking the street that seemed
to be rapidly filling up with vehicles like a bottle into which the cars and
scooters were being poured into and shut tight, his eyes strayed over to her.
His mind which had kept away its inquisitiveness till now, returned in a storm
cloud of questions which buzzed around his head like a swarm of angry bees
until he was sure even she could hear the questions resounding in his head.
Foremost among them was the most simple one but the most difficult to answer -
what was he doing with her? She seemed to sense his uncertainty and smiled a
tentative answer that did nothing to settle the buzz in his head. He drained
the last dregs of his coffee and realized that she had not had more than a
couple of sips of hers. ‘Heartburn’ she explained.
He collected the cups and went in. As
he rinsed the cups and put them away, the door bell rang. The milk man had come
as had the newspaper and his maid brought them both in as he let her in. A
middle aged widow with two kids of her own, she was silent and methodical in
her work, almost fading into the wall paper as he got ready for work each day. He
told her that he was not going into work and apart from a nod, there was no
reply. She started in the kitchen, making his eggs as she was used to. He
walked in and told her to make an extra omelet and apart from a raised eyebrow,
there was no response.
He walked to the balcony and found
her asleep in the chair in the shade. He decided to let her sleep since she had
been awake for most of the night and went in to have a shower. He changed into
a tee shirt and tracks and came out to find that his maid had brought a sheet
from his bedroom and covered her. Again, no questions asked though she knew
that he had no sister or girl friend. He went in and thanked her, not knowing
how to explain a woman’s presence in the house and finding it was not
necessary. The maid laid out breakfast and coffee in a pot and left in a short
while.
He waited for a while for her to wake
up. The sun was coming up and in a short while, she would be in the sun. He
decided to try and carry her inside without waking her up. Without debating the
reason behind this mad thought, he gently put one arm behind her knees and
another behind her shoulders and lifted her up. He walked into the bedroom and
suddenly froze as her head whipped to one side and she muttered something
unintelligible. As she settled down, her face turned into his shoulder and her
hand clutched at his tee front, a child like grip, firm as if holding on for
support. He lay her down on the bed and tried to dislodge her hand from his tee
only to find that she would not let go. The more he pulled, the harder her grip
became.
Finally he gave up and decided to sit
next to her hoping that she would settle down and loosen her grip soon. As he
sat, his gaze kept returning to her face, studying her as she slept. After a
while, his eyes grew heavy as he succumbed to his weariness. At some point, he
must have lay down on the bed and gone to sleep.
He woke up with a start after what
seemed like an eternity. His mouth was dry and there was a light sweat on his
forehead. He suddenly realized that there was a weight on his arm and turned to
see her sleeping on his arm, her hair flung partially over his chest and
partially over his face, a gauze duvet that smelled of her. He breathed deeply,
drawing in the smell, as if to store it for the years to come. He lay there for
some time like that liking the feel of her weight on his hand. Then, feeling
guilty about taking advantage of her, he slowly eased her off his hand and got
out of bed. He sat there on the edge looking back at her. Suddenly, she flung
her hand out as if searching for something, him? Not finding anything, the hand
settled down near her face, framing it in repose. Her hair was blown aside by
each breath, a silken curtain that played hide and seek with him. His gaze
moved to the soft down of hair on her arm as it stirred with her breath, his
insides a knot. Catching himself, he stood and walked out of the room.
He poured himself some coffee and
read the newspaper for want of anything better to do, all the while looking at
his bedroom door for any sign of her. He could have been reading Greek for all
that it mattered at that moment. The coffee cup was followed by another as he
waited for the clock to reach the moment when she would wake up. He went in to
put the cup in the sink and returned to see her sitting on the sofa, eyes still
sleepy but clearing up. She had brushed her hair which had settled down
somewhat and had washed her face. He found a couple of sleep lines on her
cheek, like a map, endearing in its naturalness. She smiled as he asked if she
was hungry. They made a small meal of the omelet and then settled down onto the
living room sofas.
Hesitantly she asked him if she could
shower and as he gave her a fresh towel, he realized that she did not have a
change of clothes. He asked if she wanted one of his tee shirts. She replied
that she was comfortable with what she was wearing and went into shower. He
stood there outside the bath room not knowing what to do. He broke out of his
reverie as he heard the shower being turned on and went out into the living
room. Switching on the TV, he flipped through channels meaninglessly, his mind
not catching anything worthwhile. After what seemed like the 100th
time that he had passed a particular channel, he switched off the television
and walked out into the balcony. Standing in the sun, he looked at nothing in
particular as he struggled to decipher what was happening to him.
He heard her coming back into the
room and walked back in. She seemed settled and composed now as if she had
decided something while she was in the shower. Her face was calm but with a
curious absence of the emotion that he had seen so far. She stood up as he came
in and said ‘Thanks for letting me sleep. I am sorry if I was heavy.’ He
realized with a start that she knew that she had slept on his hand. Maybe she
had woken up sometime when he had been asleep and had noticed but had gone back
to sleep. ‘It was nothing’ he muttered, not sure of what to say, the uneasy
discomfort of the situation weighing on him heavily while she seemed to be
comfortable and accepting of it.
She said she was hungry and asked him
if he could get her a pizza with lots of olives. Relieved at having something
to do, he took the keys and headed out to the pizza shop around the corner. As
he walked down, his thoughts kept returning to how she had looked, almost
withdrawn and isolated. His steps quickened as he realized that he wanted to
get back to her quickly. He walked into the pizza shop and realized that a
bunch of school kids were in there trying to decide what to order. He fidgeted
around, waiting for his turn to order, his irritation mounting as the kids
found it hard to decide on what to order. After what seemed like an eternity,
he found himself at the counter and ordered quickly. He sat down in a corner
and drummed his fingers as his impatience got the better of him. Some of the
school kids stared at him and whispered among themselves giggling at some
private joke at his expense. He looked away, not bothered for once by their
scrutiny. Finally the pizza came and he grabbed it and nearly ran out. He
walked back as quickly as he could.
Arriving at the apartment, he rang
the door bell, preferring to have her open the door instead of opening it
himself. After a second ring, he suddenly thought that she might have fallen
asleep again and let himself in with his key. The living room was deserted with
no sign of her. The balcony door was shut and the drapes drawn. The kitchen was
spotless. She had put everything away and wiped it all down. He went into the
bedroom and found the bed neatly made, the covers turned up and tucked in.
There was no sign of her. It was
almost as if she had not been there at all. He stood rooted to the spot in the
entrance to the bed room, not knowing what to make of it. He suddenly realized
that he was still holding onto the pizza and put it down in the kitchen. He
felt that he was growing crazy, a circle of crows wandering in his head, black
and somber in their lunacy. Was it all his crazed imagination so far? Did she
even really exist? He went into the bath room and was almost relieved to find a
long hair in the wash basin and a few more in the shower. She had been there.
The crows disappeared and his anxiety took over. Maybe she had just gone for a
walk and would soon be back.
He waited for a while in the living
room, his anxiety mounting as there was no sign of him. Now his mind was at
fevered pitch, the crows back in full caw as they screamed in his head. He
decided to wait in the balcony, hoping to catch a sight of her as she came in. The
afternoon sun beat down on him as he stood there, eyes seeking, searching for
the face that had stamped it’s familiarity in his brain in what seemed like a
lifetime. When there was still no sign of her, he suddenly thought that she did
not really know the apartment and might have got lost. He ran down onto the
street, frantically searching for her. As he stood outside the apartment gate,
the traffic streamed by, a steady trickle that was mounting as the offices shut
down and the worker ants made their way back to their holes.
When there was still no sign of her,
he decided to take his car and go out for her. He drove around the place,
stopped in every nook and corner and looking for the familiar sight. After an
hour or so of searching in the vicinity, he suddenly remembered her stalled
car. Maybe she had gone back for it. He drove to the point where they had left
the car only to realize that the mechanics had towed it off. The mechanic slip
was still in his wallet and so she would not have been able to go back for it.
Even so, he called up the mechanic’s only to find that no one had come for the
car, anyway, it would take them an additional day to fix it.
Losing all hope, he drove back to his
apartment. Street lights had come on and were casting their long shadows into
the dark that was slowly settling in. As he reached the apartment, some strange
irrational hope drove his feet forward and he ran up the stairs not content
with waiting for the elevator. He reached his floor panting and heaving for
breath, legs trembling with the effort. His hope drove him to run the steps
down to his apartment. Even as the light at the end of the tunnel faded away
into pitch darkness, he could see that she was not there and his legs gave way.
He sank down to the floor, his mind empty save for one thought – that he had
lost her. The insane urge to put his head into his hands and cry almost
overcame him, dark shadows of desperation hovering like vultures on the fringes
of his mind, picking at what little hope there had been, leaving behind the
bleached white bones of the undeniable truth that he had to face.
After what seemed like an eternity of
sitting there, he found the strength to rise off the floor and walk into his
apartment. His next few hours passed in a daze where he was stuck in a quick
sand of inertia, his mind relentlessly playing back the last days events over
and over again. He finally fell asleep on the couch with lights on full blaze.
The ring on the door woke him with a
start and he ran to the door only to find it was the maid looking
disapprovingly at his disheveled appearance. He dragged himself through the
motions of brushing, shaving and showering and came out to the dining room to
find that the maid had left breakfast on the table as she usually did. As he
sat down to eat, his eyes were drawn to a beige envelope against the glass of
juice. The maid must have placed it there. He saw that there was no address or
name on it, must have been hand delivered. He opened it to find four words that
spelt the finality that everything else since last evening had not done “Thank
you for everything”. There was nothing more, no name, no address.
In a fit of inspiration, he went to
the hospital where she had got her tests done and asked for her address. After
a lot of persuasion and a healthy bribe, he got the address. He drove there
like a man possessed. Only to be told by the landlady that she had cleared out
of the house yesterday.
It was as if she had wiped all traces
of herself clean. He made a call to the phone company to get the details of the
call that she had made from his phone the previous day. Calling her folks, he
could not introduce himself at all beyond an inane “colleague at work”. They
promised to pass on a message to her, not convinced who he was.
Finally, not knowing what to do, he
drove into office and found a mountain of work that had piled up across the
past couple of days. He worked like a man possessed, crazily submersing himself
in work to drive away all other thoughts. When he finally looked up, it was
past midnight. The office was deserted. He drove back, strangely reluctant to
go to his apartment. Finally he just drove to a nearby hill and parked on the
hilltop and sat there in the car staring at the city below. The blinking
lights, looking like so many fireflies, did nothing to stop him feeling
completely and utterly lost. As the tears finally broke through the dam and
coursed down his face, he knew his life would never be the same again.
