Caged Nightingale

21 Saara

I wake up alone.
The bed is empty on the other side, where i could have sworn i saw him last night.
I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling: He's going back to Lahore again today.
I close my eyes to images of him from last night. Those dark eyes burning into me, lazy kisses urging me forward, coarse fingers inside me and I feel my cheeks flush.
I shower quickly and dress in an embroidered smock and matching cotton pants in baby yellow. I don't bother to dry my hair, i let it hang in lose wet waves around my shoulders and head down stairs.
As i descend i turn right and go straight into the dining room, which is empty. The huge french doors are open and from this position i can see his silhouette on the veranda looking out onto the lawn.
He's dressed in cool linen chinos and a light polo shirt which is taut against his biceps and shoulders. Oh gosh he looks so wholesome and solid. I wonder if i should have put my hair up or put on some lip balm for glossy lips, but its too late. He turns and sees me, i automatically move towards him in response, coming up behind him and slipping my arms around his toned waist and up to his broad chest, where i can feel his pecs. Then i rest my head against his back. He places his hands over mine then kisses them.
We stand like that for a few moments. Half holding, half leaning into each other. It feels nice.
He turns around and looks down at me, smoothing the hair away from my face and watching as a drop of water drips onto my tunic before it soaks the material and turns it transparent.
He smiles a cheeky grin ' your wet hair is so sexy!' He places his hands at the nape of my neck, using his thumbs to tilts my head up, to his face for a kiss.
'You're going back today.' I state, when he breaks away and places his lips against my forehead, in a strangely intimate gesture. It's causal but also seems to sum up our sudden closeness.
He sighs and nods, then rests his chin on my head. I cant decipher the look he has on his face but there is something silent and poignant there. ' I've gotta take an earlier flight today.' He says and then pulls back so he can look down at me.
I smile reassuringly at him and hope that I'm able to hide the pang of disappointment i feel from my facial expression. The company is nice, no matter how solitary i am, nothing stops me from enjoying the banter and the presence of another person. Especially someone like him. Atif has turned out to be easy company. I don't feel like we have to talk or have to be doing something. He is content to just do his own thing.
'I'm starving' i say and he laughs.
'Then you need Amina's keema parata's. Uph!' And he takes my hand and drags me inside.
After we've eaten, he goes into his study and i go to the library. I flip open a history book about The Harapa Civilisation and continue where i left off. It must be an hour later when i hear Amina come in with tea. She leaves it on the table with some biscuits. The crumbly buttery ones i like. I'm contemplating finishing the page before i get up, when Atif comes in.
As soon as he comes in the room, the energy within changes. He looks pensive and sombre, so i decide to wait, pretending I'm reading and haven't even noticed. If he wants to talk, he'll tell me what's bothering him when he's ready. I dont take my eyes off the book, but sense him getting up. I see a cup and saucer float infront of me just as I begin to turn the page. I smile and take it from him. 'Thankyou' i say, drawing my legs in to make room for him to sit beside me in the window seat.

'The ID card's here!" he says passing me a small plastic card. I look at it, at the other me and sigh. 'We can apply for the passport this week.' he says, looking from the card in my hands to my face.

I want to ask him why he looks so sad, but the truth is I already know. I think I feel it too. The sadness holds us together for a few more moments. I like him, I've come to care for him and see that he is a good guy and funny too. I havent really developed a rapport like this with anyone for some time. With the exception of Asim and family maybe never. I watch him with a mixture of longing and half dread. I want him, as he wants me. I want to tell him I know. but at the same time there is a huge precipe that leads to the unknown if I do. I cant live like this forever. he cant hide me away like this forever. The only way I've maintained any sanity is through the absolute knowledge that this is temporary

Now? It feels different. I'm playing house, we both are and we all know what happens when you play games:
someone gets hurt. Pretending something's normal doesnt make it real.

But am I really pretending? Just looking at Atif now makes me think it's always been real for him. He's this guy who looks like he has his shit together. Body, looks, money, business, influence, connections. but sat infront of me now, he just looks young and vulnerable?

"It is what we originally planned. . . ." I say. The words seem inadequate under the circumstances.

He nods and i know I've said the wrong thing. He laughs sardonically and looks away. He seems to shake himself out his melancholy and sits up taller, with his shoulders back, no longer slumping over. He's all business again. 'I have a few things to sort out before i leave. I'll be in my study if you needs me. Oh and. . . dont let anyone in. It puts the lads in an difficult position. They're just trying to keep you safe.' He stands, looks down at me and smiles as if I've reminded him of something he forgot, then he leaves and I watch him go.