The Marriage Contract (PUBLISHED!)

Chapter Nineteen

The warm breeze blew through the open window of the taxi, as I rested my head against the seat, my eyes closed. Licking my bottom lip, I focused on the rumbling sounds of oncoming traffic, as the lulls of pedestrians drowned through my heavy heart. Clenching my hands against the seat, feeling the thick, course leather stab into my palms, an image of a smiling James clouded my mind.

"You know, I came to this city when I was just a little younger than you." The driver's voice broke through my thoughts, as I jerked up, staring at him through the front mirror. "I came all the way from Nepal. I'd left my mother, my sisters, and my fiancé, promising to bring them with me some day. New York certainly is the best city, wouldn't you agree ma'am?"

The man, who I now noticed had the greyest eyes I'd ever seen, smiled warmly at me, his thin lips curled upwards. I tilted my head, pressing a finger against my temple, for my head throbbed, as I looked over his bright green t-shirt that said "I love NY" in a heart at the center of his frail chest. His face was so young, much younger than mine, as a childlike spirit rested at the apples of his brown cheeks. But the fine grey at the top of his thinning black hair, gave away his age, which I imagined would be in the mid-forties.

I sighed. "I haven't seen all the cities in the world, so I couldn't say. Maybe Nepal would be a better home than here. Actually, anywhere would be better than here."

He laughed joyously- the bright rays casting a luminescent glow over his face, as he shook his head in a knowing way.

"I take it that the city has hurt you, ma'am," he said. "Or perhaps, a friend has. But I assure you, give New York another chance. There is magic along every road, believe me, for I have seen such magic myself."

I smiled. "You're very intuitive. What magic have you seen?"

His fingers tapped the steering wheel as though playing a musical note on a piano, as his cloudlike gaze stared wondrously at the road. For a moment, I wanted to see what he saw. There was this inevitable warmth about him, that I found myself wondering whether he'd ever been hurt like I was.

Did his fiancé ever break his heart?

"I'm an old man, and old men can't remember much," he said. "But what I do recall, is seeing Soraya's face light up like a million stars when I brought her to our first home, back in 1982, when the city was a rush of noise."

"Soraya...that's a beautiful name. Is she your wife?"

He glanced at me through the mirror, before adjusting the forest green pine freshener dangling off the center. Sending me a stiff smile, he placed both hands on the steering wheel once more, his shoulders slouched.

I frowned, feeling a bit worried that I had offended him.

"She was," he said.

The light from glass reflected off his solemn eyes, as he stared at the road with a faraway look, as though recalling a painful memory.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to pry—"

"Don't be silly, ma'am," he said. "I am flattered when passengers take an interest in my otherwise boring life. Soraya and I lived, laughed, and loved, for thirteen years. She was and still is- my everything. Without her, I would be nowhere. She knew me in a way that no one else ever could. As the years went by, my love for her kept growing, for I learned something new about her every day. She grew more beautiful each day as well. There were times I thought that I'd been given a love potion, because everything about her, mesmerized me. Her laugh, her stubborn will, the way she smiled when watching a movie, the way her finger casually slipped back a hair behind her ear."