Resurgence

11. Lone Ranger

His lips twitched, and his neck turned to the right again. “Okay as much as I would love to continue with this joyous banter, I can’t because in all honesty―I really don’t want to. So, could you skip to the part where you tell me why you’re here? I know you’re hired to be an asshole of course, but you have two jobs on here. An asshole and being a mechanical engineer. And you’ve done the part for the first half quite well, so off to the second one shall we?”

For the first time since he had known John, he looked genuinely hurt. Water wasn’t welling up in his lids, and neither were muscles bulging or fists balling or his throat bobbing either. There was just an aura of hurt that engulfed him after Tari had uttered his last stream of words.

“They told me that you were a lost cause but I didn’t want to believe that was true.” His voice was flat, and eerie. “I mean first of all, it’s really wrong to refer to a human being as a cause? We’re much more faceted and wholesome than that. But then maybe they aren’t so wrong. You’re just all about your work, nothing else. There is almost nothing interior to you, it’s obvious from the way you talk and all the times we’ve discussed, there has been no interrupting phone calls from friends or girlfriends or abrupt endings, like―I have to go somewhere, friend or family emergency of the likes so you’re indeed a cause.”

Tari flinched inwardly. What the hell was he driving at?

“While you might not be a lost cause since you’re quite good at your job, you’re pretty much not a cause in other areas. So I think the right thing to label you is a successful cause.”

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult?” Tari enquired.

“It’s nothing but the truth, and yeah it might not be in my job description of being an asshole but I trust you won’t tell anyone.” And with that, John smote him hard on the shoulder in a quite aggressive way that couldn’t be termed as a playful gesture, before scrambling back to his station ahead. Tari watched him go in sheer curiosity. If John had been hurt earlier, he definitely had a very weird way of showing it. Then again, he was the definition of weirdness, so that probably passed as normalcy for him.

The vibration from his phone zinged through his left thigh and prompted him to pull it out. Staring at the caller ID, a barrel of guilt emptied over him. It was his mom, his only parent and family that he had conveniently absolved all forms of contact with for a duration that spanned…weeks? A month? He couldn’t even recall anymore. Without further ado, he swiped and braced himself for an inevitable stereotypical parental scolding.

“Tari?” She sounded part distressed, part relieved. Perhaps, he wasn’t going to get scolded after all.

“Mom, good afternoon―”

“And happy New year to you, Tari.” She cut him off abruptly. “Of course, even busy people like you can’t forget that we crossed over from 2018 into 2019, some days ago? If you were that buried into work, surely someone around you must have given that fact away or wished you happy new year or something.”

“Mom, don’t be dramatic we talked on the first―”

“You talked on the first, because in your world―texting qualifies as talking. I only texted, and I don’t think it’s appropriate calling it texting, taking into consideration how long it took you to reply. Messaging, would be the correct thing to call it.”

He sighed, cupping his face with his free right hand. “Okay, I’m sorry for not making a better effort to remain in contact but you know how work is and―”

“What type of work are you doing that’s making it so difficult for you to check on your mother every now and then!” She cried, pain booming in her voice and the resulting reaction being a painful twinge of hurt in his chest. “Even armed robbers, criminals and assassins keep in contact with their parents despite the fact that they’re always on the run from law enforcement agencies? Not to talk of you an Architect. Laise omo ale.” When you’re not a bastard.