by Beena Nair
Another day! She woke up, stretching lazily, with a smile on her lips. She had decided early on in life to keep it there, no matter what. And the smile had remained there, through all the hardships. That was one of the things she could do, she thought. Something that was still in her hands.
She couldn’t say the same about very many things. She always wondered about people who could say that everything was in their hands. What gave them the confidence? Why did she never feel so? Did those people really believe in their words?
Today, she knew what lay ahead. It was going to be a long, long day – she had to get into the kitchen first and set afire the warmth for the day. It was a special day. She loved all special days and made an effort to set them apart.
Slowly pushing the covers off her, she touched his warm hands. She could hear him breathing, rhythmic and relaxed. She looked up and found his eyes on her. They smiled – losing themselves, savouring the tenderness that came with living together.
Quite suddenly, a she jumped out of bed. It was time for the morning rituals – lighting the lamp, the morning prayers and then coffee and biscuits. No early morning shower for her, though. She hated the thought of having to shower first thing in the morning. She always liked to think that showering first thing in the day was like being forced to wake up; there was enough time for that, it could be done slowly and enjoyably.
There were so many thoughts going through her head. But she brushed them aside, as she did with her hair that was hanging all over her face, pulling it tightly into a bun. This was something that always helped her keep her thoughts in check. Whenever she did that, she imagined sweeping up all her thoughts and keeping it in a safe place whenever she was busy or when it threatened to play havoc with her life. Later, when she was alone she would let them out one by one and resolve issues or just watch while the thoughts flitted by.
She poured coffee into the mugs and set it on the table. The smell of coffee as the boiling water hit the coffee powder was the first thing she enjoyed every morning. Strong coffee with cream and sugar for her. Black coffee without sugar for him. She was waiting for him as she usually did. Seven years of togetherness. She wondered if he would remember their anniversary. She had to remind him every year. It would be no different this year, she mused.
There was a predictable yet comfortable air about him. She loved that. He never remembered birthdays or anniversaries, and Valentine’s Day was something he could not even be bothered about. He loved her with that immense, unconditional understanding. Nothing else mattered.
He came in all dressed and sat down beside her, the smell of aftershave strong around him. Nothing about him had changed, she thought. He looked into her eyes and smiled. The smile that melted her heart and made her knees wobble. She lived for moments like these; moments which stood testimony to a love that transcended everything. No words spoken. Just a glance, a flicker of a smile and the heart filled up and bubbled over, like champagne in a glass.
She was just getting up to peck him on his cheek and wish him. But he was gone. Just like that. She cursed herself for having rushed into the moment. Oh, wouldn’t she give anything, just anything, to relish his lingering smile for a few more minutes? She wanted a little more time to look into his eyes that spoke to her without words. Just a little more time.
She fought hard to hold back her tears. Rushing back to the bedroom, she felt the chillness engulf her. All the love and warmth she had felt, where did they go? Tears streamed down her face. She wanted to just let go and wail loudly like she had seen some women do. But no. She had never been able to do it. It was just the tears that rolled down. Always the tears. Hot tears without a sound. Not even a tiny sob. And at the end of it all, a hole deep in her heart that ached and ached so much.
She glanced quickly at his portrait. She could not bear to look up at him. There was sadness in those eyes. Eyes as black as coal. Filled with compassion. She could drown in them. Somewhere, sometime, she had known the bliss of drowning in them. The breathless ecstasy, the rapture of love.
She felt her hair stand on their ends, a chillness settling down all around her, and fingers caressing her hair, her face. He was here, still here. How much longer could she torture herself like this? When would she let go? It had to end. She knew that. Soon, she told herself. There was always time for letting go.
But for now, it was another day. Another day! Now she would get ready for work and would wait for the next morning. The morning that brought with it promises and warmth. The smell of aftershave. The champagne bubbles. That was what she lived for. Seeing him, feeling him and waiting. Waiting for another day.
Beena Nair is a teacher by profession and a writer at heart. She lives in Kerala, India. Spirits, ghosts and the other world that we know nothing about is what interests her. This story is her first publication.
Pic by https://www.flickr.com/photos/ginnerobot/
