Just a Sip

The crimson sky split into two, blinding her. Thunder crackled somewhere far off. It sounded like someone was desperately clanging at the bars of a dungeon. It was dark and was raining heavily, so much so that the path ahead was not discernible  One could point a shocking stillness to the downpour. The heavens roared once again. It didn't matter to her though. Not anymore.

She was walking with her head bowed.  One could almost have missed her because of the long black overcoat that she was wearing, which camouflaged her with the dark, if not for her sari that almost mirrored the wine colored sky. The wet red sari sticking to her stiff body could easily pass of as blood against one’s skin. Her wild wet hair was sticking to the sides of her face, her long curled eyelashes heavy with droplets. She felt a chill right to her very bones. But that did not deter her from walking towards her destination.

The path was deserted. The sides of the road wear bleak and desolate. Blur to her. An occasional withering tree with branches extended upward seemingly seeking mercy, a lone boulder, a car with its bonnet open and a lamppost with a fused bulb were a few things that actually caught her attention even though for a fraction of seconds during this arduous walk. Her legs ached, her head felt heavy and her heart, it ran ahead of her, thudding violently against her ribs. She blinked for once, a stream of tears slid restlessly past her cheeks, becoming one with the raindrops.

“Do you expect God to grace my dream every night and whisper into my ears the kind of mood you will be in each day, how can you be so bloody difficult?” he said irritated, while loosening his left cuff as he made himself a drink. She cringed a bit at his use of words. He picked up the stout glass in his hand and looked at her, exasperated. “Don’t give me that look again! God, can’t I have some peace?” he had an earnest look by the time he finished the sentence. She felt her eyes burning and itchy; perhaps he had seen something too. Lowering the glass on the table he came towards her, his face softening a bit. She lowered her head, staring at her curled toes. He released a deep sigh. “What should I do?” he said softly. His voice made her look up, but his eyes were still confused and eager. She maintained eye contact with him, hoping desperately that he would now know what she wants.

Confusion clouded his eyes even more; he placed one hand on her left shoulder, urging her to say something. It did not elicit any response from her. He enveloped his arms around her now, patting her head a bit. She could smell alcohol in his breath. That repelled her. She loosened herself from his grip and looked up at him. He looked perplexed. “It’s okay”, she said in a heavy voice. “Give me some time, please?” The mention of time somehow changed his eyes, his nostrils flared, he stepped back a bit. Towering over her, he said “Are you kidding with me? We have been married for two years now! You still need time? You are playing with my life woman.” She was angry now. How could he say this? She was trying her best, could he not see? Every day, every moment. “What do you want? Does it kill you to answer this question of mine? Or do you want me to play with puzzle pieces?” He said gritting his teeth, she was scared. She held her fort though, “I did answer your question, I want time”, she said with steel in her voice. “Ha ha”, he laughed menacingly. “There’s no point even talking to you”, he said, picking up the remote, he switched on the TV, flickered through channels and settled on a reality show on the couch with the drink in his hand. She kept staring at his back. After a few minutes, she left the house, closing the front gate silently.

She looked at the iron-gate in front of her. She was here. She has imagined being here so many times that it felt like a déjà-vu. Her eyes were now fixated at the heavy door made of polished wood. Royal. Just like Him. The outside decor of the place gave off His essence so strong that she could almost figure out the thought process behind every parapet and design. It was time to knock on His door. It had to be now. She has waited more than what she ever thought she could, mulled over it for years now, but all of it seemed futile though. She laughed wryly at herself. How could she have thought all these years that she did not need him? She has been seeking consolation from the mere memory of His voice, the picture of His eyes, and the scent of His aftershave that she so strongly recalls. It’s been ten years now. But this was enough. Enough of starving. She might as well die. She needs him now. He was indispensable for her. He has always been.

She pressed the doorbell, waiting in excruciating anticipation. She saw the lock twist a bit, at that point of time, she wished if she could sublimate or vanish into thin air. It did not seem a good idea anymore. He would not even recognize her. Even if He does vaguely. What would she say? Why has she come? Why is she in such a state? She felt like turning back and running away like there’s no tomorrow. The door opened and she felt a shiver run through her. Was it the moist wind or the gaze that held hers now, she could not point out.

His eyes changed from black to grey to mellow brown in flickering moments. She could see them surprised, then registering her, confusion just for a brief moment maybe and then comprehension of it all.  Oh, how much has she missed them, His eyes. He seldom spoke much but that was always covered up by his eyes. They spoke volumes, they had a language of their own, with difficult words though. But they had the power, power to do anything. There have been times when the pitch black of them have left her gasping for breath and there have been times when the honey drop in them have left her savoring them, longing just to hold their sight for more. He was waiting for her to say something, she realized. She did not know what to say though, so lowered her head, dripping in His expensive doormat, guilty about it. She heard Him say “Come in?”, in an authoritative yet questioning tone. She stepped into the house. He closed the door behind him. The storm had picked up more by then. The city was facing a power-cut she realized.

He ushered her into the sitting room, pointing towards the chair beside the fire-place. She was not shocked to see it there. She sat there, her numb fingers coming back to life again. He handed her a towel to dry herself a bit. She saw Him near the side table deftly pouring what seemed like milk from the flask, adding something and then stirring it. She noticed that He was wearing a casual white shirt, His collar button was open and His sleeves were rolled up. He must have been relaxing when she had barged in, she felt embarrassed. He came towards her, handing over the cup to her, she cupped her hands around it and took a sip from it. It was hot chocolate. The warm liquid felt so good down her throat that she closed her eyes for a bit. He sat down on the sofa opposite her, His watch glistening from the fire. His eyes, patient, very patient. Though there was something in them that she had never seen.

“Are you okay?” He said at last, His eyes concerned. She looked up, her eyes welling up again. “I am sorry”, she said, looking down. Her mind was blank. She did not know what else to do or say. “You don’t have to be. You can come anytime you want. You know that”, He said in a voice that made her tremble. She looked up, those reassuring eyes again. She felt much more comfortable. Of course this was Him. He knew everything she was thinking. He knew, but he didn’t. This was her problem. This is the reason as to why she wasn’t okay. She held His gaze for a while and looked down.

“You are not saying anything”, He said in a very patient voice. She looked up, she was choking, her eyes almost full with tears.  Keeping her cup on the table she stood up and stood facing the fire with her back towards him. She could hear him getting up from the couch. He was standing behind her now. He called her name. Very Softly. Concerned. That opened the floodgates. She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, clutching to his shirt, her nails crumpling it a bit, burying her face into his left collarbone...wetting His shirt there. Her body wrecked with incessant sobs. He patted her back gently. “It’s going to be fine”, He said in her hair. She trembled harder. “Shhh, I’m here”, He said.

She felt warm. She looked up to see him staring at her. His eyes very concerned now. He must have spotted her lapsing into her thoughts, but He was accustomed to her doing that isn’t He? She smiled at him. His posture relaxed a bit. She smiled at her cup now, tucking wet strands behind her ear. She doesn’t need hot chocolate; she has one of her own. Looking at Him, she assured Him, that she is fine. Her pocket buzzed. It was a text from him. It read, “I am really sorry, come back soon, please”. Sadly it indeed was the time to go back. If only curling up into a blanket was an option.

She got up from the chair with a determined look on her face. He understood it too. Like always He did. He followed her to the door. She clutched the knob, and turned towards him. “You will be alright?” He said. She blinked, tears rolling through the corner of her eyes, but she smiled. “I am going to be alright, Thank you”. She twisted the knob. The storm had subsided, it was not raining anymore. She stepped out, her heart aching to look back, but she didn’t. She did not know whether she had the strength to look back and turn away again...