Even if it felt like a storm.
Seeing Ravi and Meena together was bothering me; it roughed up my spirit. Meena was on cue, Ravi had moved on, and my own life was unravelling like a badly bound book, pages fluttering in the wind before finding the floor.
I wiped my tears and took a deep breath.
I moved the phone away from my ear and felt a breeze fan my face, whistle past my ears.
‘The reason why seeing them together has distressed you so is because of where your own life is. Your refusal to take things forward with Andrew. That’s not to say you’re not feeling bad about Ravi and Meena, an ex-boyfriend and a friend, but…’ Chhaya paused for breath, ‘you shouldn’t want to engage with Andrew because these two have maybe found each other. Andrew and you, Myra, have what everybody wants.’
We knew everything about each other, Andrew and I. From how we mixed our drinks to when he smoked his cigarettes and how much water I drank every morning. When I dialled his number and he didn’t pick up, I knew where he was and vice versa.
‘Are you scared to commit, Myra?’
‘To whom?’
‘Brad Pitt.’
I laughed at myself, at my state of disarray.
‘Do you love him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then?’
‘I brought up Meena with Andrew.’
I felt Chhaya nod.
‘Would he have even told me had I not found out?’
‘Maybe not.’
‘Something is broken, but I can’t fix it. I can’t make it whole again, and god knows I want to.’
What was Andrew regretting – the affair itself or what it had done to us?
Only at home can you drop your guard. So what if cart pushers and hawkers, stray dogs and pedestrians, recognized you? I sank down on the dirty footpath where men had peed and women had spat. The ground beneath was solid and strong.
I managed to pick myself up and drag myself back to my cabin. I had seen enough for the day.
Just before I rested my forehead on my forearms, I exchanged smiles with my mother. That picture was from that day.
Despite having denoted a boundary in the life of her only offspring a moment ago, ‘Limit the physical to touching. Nothing more,’ she had said, interrupting me as I sequenced Andrew’s loveliness. That was the only tenet I had to play by.
Andrew of the dysfunctional lineage, however, had no idea about the limits cautioned to me.
Venturing into forbidden territory was the trigger for my collapsing into Andrew’s arms one November afternoon, less than two months into our relationship.
If ever a line was meant to be crossed, this was it. We were the perfect fit, a seamless sentence. As if our 20 and 20-something years were lived to eventuate in this – exquisite bliss. Whole and full.
Later, seated before a television set, I knotted my hands. His hair was a mess, and his tee was askew. He looked sovulnerable. I wanted to reach out, but I didn’t. I didn’t want the dream to end.
I didn’t call him after I got home that evening. He called some 24 hours later.
‘Home?’
A tear had rolled down my cheek a decade ago.
