Till The Count Of Five ✓

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

I see the coat and I want to touch it. I reach for it only to find it can never be mine.

Ash

15th February 2019, Friday
17:00

It was the jacket that I saw first, then the brown hair. Our gazes met and I felt my heart skip a beat. I should have told where we were, I didn't. I knew it would be startling and I'd be left alone once again.

"Hey." Those lips lifted in a soft smile and I felt I'd turn into a puddle.

"Hi. I hope I didn't disturb you by calling you here."

"No." There came politeness. "Everything all right?"

I gulped as I shifted to the next chair and pointed at the stool. Once settled, I met those expectant eyes laced with concern. Why could others not be like this? Kiara had to be busy with her work. Vicky was simply disappointed. Well, so was I.

"I wrote this," I said and turned the computer screen.

"School project?"

I shook my head. For my parents, yes but in reality, no. The school project I needed to do lay in my bag on my shoulders, completed.

"Vent?"

I scoffed. "Rant."

"What happened?" The low tone sent shivers to me. This was wrong.

"Five. God, I love five," I read out loud.

"What is this with five? You mentioned it in the previous note as well."

I placed my chin on my palm. "Once Kiara fell. I think it was in third standard and everyone else laughed. They weren't mocking her, just laughing at the scene. She came to the bus, crying and I told her to shut her eyes and count till five. I forgot the whole thing then. She didn't. Every time, one of us was hurt, the other one whispered these words." But now, when I wanted her to say them to me, she didn't.

"They'd never know unless you tell them, Vicky and Kiara."

I squirmed in my seat but said nothing. It was difficult to explain and we were just beginning to understand each other. We had just met. Still I doubted if I would ever be able to explain.

"That's why I write my feelings," I admitted. "I don't know if I'll ever explain it to them. I think if they read this, it'll be easier."

The appraised look made me turn away. Unspoken words hung in the air and I covered my face. "Why did you help me that day?"

"Because you were tipsy? What kind of question is that, Ashiamma?"

"Ash," I corrected. Tipsy didn't do it justice. I wasn't forced drunk, a girl whose cold drink had been spiked. I had lied when I was found trashing Rishab's bike. I drank in my full senses, because Vicky just would not understand the feel of vodka hitting your throat. They said it burnt but it cooled me. I realized then, the labels we made for everything were the reason for disappointments, or in my case, sudden bursts of happiness.

My phone rang. Kiara's name flashed.

"It's okay to pick up."

I shut my eyes at the cautious tone and weighed the importance of her call. I certainly didn't need her now. Still, I accepted the call to, I didn't know, maybe, scowl.

When I opened my eyes, the stool was empty and I saw the brown hair in the crowd far away. Gone, just like that. There was a note on top of the screen. 'You're worth more than you think you are. Your friends know this. Nothing would matter if you don't try to explain them.'

I wanted to ask, 'Are you not my friend? I'm explaining to you. Does that not count?'

"Hello, Ash."

I cut the call. It didn't count. Nothing counted. A tear fell down my cheek. Kiara was close by. If I called her back and asked to come here, she would, wouldn't she?

I shut down the computer, the words of what I had written still hanging heavy in my mind.

Five. God, I love five. Or maybe, I am just amazed at the fact that I am capable of leaving an impact with just my words. I am capable of wiping someone's tears without really raising my hand. Just a smile and woosh, she's smiling again, like she does everyday after coming to the bus.

That was the first time I made five. That first time I truly felt good; and weird enough, it was satisfying in a way that made me feel powerful. A knight in shining armour saved someone. I was in fourth standard, Kiara in third. She had said I was a saviour. Years later, I realized I had interpreted her wrong. I was a saviour at the moment but I took her words quite literally. I tried to become a saviour and help others and made sure they knew I was being helpful (in other words, I made sure they knew what they were doing was happening because of me). I hate admitting it. I hate to say the power I have always wanted was simply everyone else being either humble or blissfully ignorant.

There is a thin line between the two, so thin that it blurs when I try to glance closely, that by the time, I tilt my head to observe another point on the line, I'm looking at an entirely different person from a new perspective. The line blurs because, I think, no one on that line is sure. No one considers me - the observer - and keeps oscillating to and fro. They turn a blind eye but observe me when I'm not watching. They don't know I am. I am watching over my shoulder and I see them, I see him shaking his head at my ways, I see her buried in her work. I see him smile at me but I don't feel it anymore. I see her staring at me with pursed lips and I look at myself. What did I do to her now?

I stopped painting, at least in the school. I mean I do it, I just don't do it for them. Kiara wants me to because Nidhi Ma'am wants her to ask me to. I ask her if she simply wants me to do it because her teacher wants her to want me to do it. My tongue clicks at this sentence, at the desperation and want. And that is a bitter reminder of people I choose not to address, the good people who think I'm bad. I'm not. I swear I am not. Even Vicky says I'm not bad, just distracted, sidetracked by my own thoughts. Everything but I'm not bad.

Still, it feels like that. My skin burns and I want to shed it and regenerate my parts. I sound like an awful Biology student. Awful. I may be awful to others but I am not bad. I try not to harm them, even when I want to. I guess I can secretly make up for my 'bad' behaviour. Shay can now draw for school. I just acknowledged one person I did not want to.

Yay...I think.

One person I want to talk to and I know will talk to me is the only one scaring me. Her face, it does not hold the humour it did when we became friends. When I look at her, I tell myself that just because she is changing, it doesn't mean we're not friends. I'll just write it. Mehak, it is difficult for me to adapt to people's change. So, try not to change. Kiara's changed because she focuses on her grades more. Why? What's the need when I know they'll come easily? Shay... I'd rather not talk. But Mehak... please, don't change.

Everytime one tries to change, I try to stop the person. They get mad. They don't understand change is bad. It stunts your real side. It...it is a dynamic thing, constantly moving and reshaping and...and I hate change. I hate how easily everyone adapts to change, how you all change yourselves. Don't you realize it is toxic? I tried to change too. I tried to be nice and sweet and not-bad but I realized half way, change is toxic. You spend days as someone and then you change. You 'mature'. All bluff. All bluff like your fallen face these days, Mehak. Don't you see? If you change - your face morphs in those grim lines - you grow wrinkly and ugly and old and then you wilt away from existence.

I want to shout at you all - change is bad. Our brains are wired the wrong way if we think that.

That is why I like five. It is static. After all these years, despite the varied magnitudes of problems, I count till five and then they go away. Except this time. Maybe, I'll count slowly.