A Few Hundred Poppies

20. Ma

"I don't really feel like it," I scratched the dirt on the floor with the tip of my sneakers, feeling a passiveness seep into me. I suddenly felt very old.

"Oh... About your mom-"

"Can we please not talk about her for a moment? I mean, it's all everyone's been talking about the past three days, it's driving me nuts," I pleaded, wringing my hands.

"Oh, okay." Doc and I shared a silence as he zoned out, waving his hand about like he often did when he was trying to figure something out. Emerging from his reverie after a while, he got up from the barrel and started sifting through the myriad of curiosities in the room.

"What're you looking for?" I quizzed, staring with interest at the jar of pickles (probably mango, we're Bengalis after all) now in his grip.

"I had a radio in here somewhere," Doc muttered, placing the jar on his barrel. I immediately snatched it up, taking a tantalising whiff of the contents after twisting the lid open. Yep. Mango.

"Geez, they still make radios?"

"No. I made it myself, for fun," Doc smiled, lifting a tire in search of his device. I tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sigh.

"Why do you need one?" I asked, looking around for something to reach for the pickle when my fingers fell short of the task.

"Afsar called," he said, pausing to shot me a weird look when he saw me trying to reach into the jar with one of the test-tubes lined on the shelf. In my defense, Doc had admitted that those test-tubes were the cleanest things in his house. "He told me that you're arranging and going ballroom dancing? I bet him that you didn't know how to dance."

"What the hell? Principal Sen must've told him. It's just a high school dance," I muttered at my feet. "And I'm not going."

"Whoah, hold up, young lady. Why not?" Doc gave up on looking for the radio and returned to his seat, gazing at me with sincerity.

"What do you mean why not? Ma is missing, for God's sake. I can't just go dancing. Besides, I don't have anyone to go with," I mumbled, shoving some more tangy mango pickle into my mouth.

"Okay, look. I've known Saroor for since college. She'd be bummed if you didn't go," Doc said, wrestling the jar out of my grip and trying to reach the pickle inside with his fingers.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. They're brown parents-"

"Trust me, I know what I'm saying. And FYI, you're being prejudiced," Doc said, licking the pickle off his slender fingers.

"But, like," I paused, I knew better than to question Doc's judgement even though he was currently trying to be discrete about wiping his hands on the lab coat resting on his guitar.

"Now," he got up, extending a hand in a very formal way. "Miss Rashid, if you have anything other than loud pop music on that iPhone, will you do me the honour of joining me for a dance?"

Smiling weakly, I got up. "Only if you wash your hands. I've got Pachelbel's Canon, is that okay?"

"You actually have classical music on your phone? What sort of a teenager are you?" Doc shook his head, striding to the sink in a corner and rinsing his hands in the pink water that spouted from it. Don't even ask why the water was pink.

Doc pushed several bizarre articles aside to make some space for dancing. Finding Canon, I turned up the volume and accepted Doc's hand, letting him lead me as best as he could with me stepping on his toes every few seconds. Soon, we'd found a rhythm, and I rested my head on Doc's chest, the depth of the music making a set of tears well up within me. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall.

Doc stroked my head affectionately as we swayed, but he was so immersed in his thoughts that I doubted he'd noticed that his shirt was soaking up with my tears.

"Aditi," he called as the music ended, cupping my face in his palms. "I need to hear you promise me something. Promise me that you'll pull yourself together. I know it's a burden you don't deserve, but I need you to be the strong bitch I know you are, okay? I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Afsar said that what's hurting him the most is that you're falling apart."

"You said bitch," I tried to smile weakly as he raised a brow. "I promise, Doc."

"I don't mean pretending to pull yourself together, you actually have to do it," he called as I made for the door.

"Weellll, I can't promise that. But I'll try."

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