Day and night turn into eternal twilight as I lie and wait until the fever goes down again. I sleep at times, but many hours are spent awake, looking into nothingness, too tired to worry, too tired to be scared.
All the time in the world to remember Maya's warm arms around me.
I try not to linger on that memory. I think the chances of that happening again are slim and I would never dare to ask for it.
But oh, it felt so good to be held like that. How I've longed for arms around me that were reassuring, not restraining. I gave in, pushed away my fear and took the risk. It's the best gift I could ever receive.
I feel very awkward when I see Maya the first time 'after,' but she doesn't seem to notice it, nor does she seem to be uncomfortable around me. She doesn't bring it up, and I am grateful for that. It means she also won't laugh at me for wanting to be held, to be hugged.
Maya is in and out of my room to care for me, although I flat out refuse her help. She doesn't force me to do anything either and every time she leaves the room, I exhale in relief. Every time she leaves me and nothing has happened, a tiny bit of anxiety evaporates.
I'm still tense as a wire, though.
Maya tells me about eleventy billion times that I shouldn't feel worried about being sick and that she wants me to relax so that I can get better. She also tells me that nobody would come to my room and that she would appreciate it if I could leave my door unlocked so she can bring me food and stuff without me having to go up to open the door.
Gah. I don't like that thought, but I know now that they have a key anyway so it doesn't really matter if I lock the door or not.
They can get in if they want to.
Yet they have never done this, but for Friday night.
I think I must have screamed or something to get their attention like that. The thought alone is horrifying. Maya told me I must have been hallucinating. I don't really remember anything, but there is a nagging pain in my right hand — almost a phantom pain of that time I got hit with the poker.
Sighing, I turn to my side. It's a big leap, from a hug to that poker. It's confusing, too.
Meh. I don't have the energy to really worry and besides, my head feels like it's stuffed. Being too sick to think things through can be a gift, I come to realize. I huddle deeper under the blankets and drift off again.
No, sleep is not good. I have recurring nightmares and when I wake up my sheets are once more damp with sweat. Looking at my watch I can see it's three. Would it be Saturday or Sunday? Monday maybe? Nah. I have completely lost track of time.
But, I do feel a bit better. I still bark like a dog in violent coughing fits but my head is clearer. I wish I had an extra pair of pyjamas though. These feel soaked.
Maya announces her presence with a knock on the door and comes in when I clap my hands. Gah. I won't ever get used to it.
"You were sleeping earlier," she smiles as she steps in. She's carrying a steaming mug — presumably some broth. I've been living on that over the last days. I flatly refuse the fluid food. It comes out quicker than I get it in. I won't eat it anymore.
"I brought you something to drink. How are you?"
I nod carefully — I'm better now. I still feel awkward and shy under her gaze. Have done since she put her arms around me. It's hard to admit how wonderful it felt.
It's harder to admit I want it again.
"You look a bit better. Hey, what do you think of maybe a shower and changing into clean things? I can clean the sheets on your bed in the meantime?"
Sounds good but for the fact I don't want her in the bedroom when I am in the shower.
Seeing my hesitation, she reconsiders. "You can shower later. Let me get you some things. Drink your broth, you're getting dangerously thin," she adds as an afterthought, and then she is out of the room.
It's getting easier, it seems.
Freshly showered, freshly clad in clean pyjamas and crawling in between fresh sheets, I feel better instantly. I have put my shawl back on, as I feel better with my neck covered. Maybe I can go out of bed later. My back is no longer hurting from the fever but now it is stiff because I have been lying down for so long.
Maya is back however with the thermometer and asks me kindly but steadily if I would like to assist her again.
The device beeps — one longer one to indicate the start of the measurement, and then, after two seconds of silence, three shorter ones.
I still have a fever.
Shit.
Maya leaves me, telling me to stay in bed, and I sit back against the headboard with a sigh, which sets off a coughing fit. Grrr.
I could read, but I don't feel like it. I should answer Renee's emails, but I can't be bothered to get up. I am still not very well. I just have a hard time realizing it. I have been used to suppressing my discomfort for so long, I don't know how to recognize it anymore.
And I feel incredibly weak for being in bed like this. Useless. A waste of space.
I think I've been sick before. I just never stayed in bed. Never gave in to it.
Beatings hurt more though, when you have a fever and every hair follicle sends a pain signal to your brain. I can't bring myself to snap the rubber band at my wrist when a memory of Stefan crashes down on me.
I've not been beaten yet here. I have been unguarded and they have done nothing. Still I wonder when it will start. They're playing a damn evil game if this should all turn out to be a farce.
My rationale whispers faintly in protest. This can't be a game.
Crossing my arms, I sit back with a scowl. I dare not disobey direct orders, but hot fucking damn it's hard to stay in bed like this.
The phone they gave me beeps on the nightstand. My heart skips a beat at the sound and tentatively, I reach out to pick it up. A text message. What, seriously? I press the button to read it.
How are you? Xo Ishani
I look at the screen for a long time, completely lost. Should I reply to this? But what do I say? Finally, I type something.
I'm okay.
I press 'send.' I don't really know why my heart is hammering in my chest right now. I keep holding the phone, not really sure what to do. Minutes tick by and I start to wonder what I am waiting for, exactly.
The phone beeps and vibrates again, tearing me from near slumber with a jolt.
Glad you're better. Good to know that you text! Vansh.
The fuck!
I don't answer the message. I just keep looking at it long after the backlight of the screen dies down.
●●●●●
The fever continues to keep me company quite constantly for the next couple of days, as does Maya. Vedant comes to stand at my door several times a day to ask me how I feel, always friendly, always with a gentle smile that reaches his eyes. He doesn't come in when I am alone in the room, and I appreciate it.
Some Malhotra kids come to greet me. Ishani is at my door a couple of times, asking me how I am and if I need anything. Angre often comes to pick Ishani up at my door and he always smiles as he greets me. One time Vansh hears Ishani talking to me in my room and he stops by too, lingering in the doorway and asking me how I am.
He almost looks shy. He never mentions the text message and I am careful to not look at the phone on the nightstand when he is around.
When the fever is up though, they leave me alone and I have the feeling that Maya has told them to do so. The fever is up a lot. I spend a lot of time alone in the room.
I have a hard time to give in to it and let my body rest and heal, but I cannot deny how blissful it feels to be alone and unbothered for such long periods of time.
Nothing has happened to indicate it will become the same here as it was before, with Stefan, with Rajeev.
I shudder when I think of them. I don't know what I did to deserve them being out of my life, but if I were to believe in a God I'd thank him on my bare knees for it.
Even this first week and a half here, however riddled with bad luck and horrible fuck ups, has felt like a vacation to me.
Not your typical sun-vacation, as the sun hasn't really shone in all the days I've been around here now, but a vacation nevertheless.
I sleep a bit better. I take less meds for the ache in my throat and I am not as afraid to go to sleep anymore. It's a mixture of feeling safety and apathy — if they'll come, let them come. I'm tired of waiting.
On Wednesday, I have been fever free for well over twelve hours and I need to get out of this room before I go mad. I shower, dress, and venture out into the quiet house.
It feels wonderful to get my legs moving again, although my muscles protest fiercely when I walk down the stairs. My stomach growls — maybe I am getting better. And the wonderful news is I might even try to eat some bread or anything soft yet solid.
I'm almost giddy.
Maya is not in around when I reach the kitchen and softly rummaging about I find something to eat and to drink. Yes. Bliss.
The house is quiet, but I am fairly certain I am not alone. Maya would have let me know if she was going to go out. Outside, it's not raining for a change, but the wind is blowing and I can hear it rushing faintly in the trees.
I want to go out, to get some fresh air. Maybe I can find the coat Maya has lent me before. Walking into the hallway, I find the closet that holds the coats and find the Burberry in it.
Taking my chances, and hunger forgotten, I put on the coat while crossing the house and I slip out the door to the porch.
The fresh air is liberating. I walk to the railing and stand with my face in the wind. It feels soothingly cool on my skin. Looking up at the clouds, the wind picks up my hair and whips it around my face. It feels light, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel light, too.
I close my eyes and let a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth.
"There you are!"
I turn around quickly, my mouth opened in a silent gasp. Maya is standing in the door, she is smiling but the look of worry is apparent on her face.
"You weren't in your room, I looked everywhere for you!"
My eyes go wider still and convey what I hope a silent apology. Oops. Will she be angry?
The look on her face changes, softens. "You scared me, is all. I was afraid something was wrong. How are you? Is the fever gone?"
I nod, and I can't prevent the tiny smile that accompanies my affirmation. I'm better now. Please tell me what I can do for you.
"I'm happy that you are starting to move around on your own. Don't stay out for too long, okay? Or do you want me to keep you company?"
Not necessarily, no.
Reading my face correctly, she smiles again. "I'm glad you feel better."
And with that, she goes back inside. When she is out of sight, I turn to look back over the driveway again and let my thoughts drift with the wind.
I'm not sure how long I have been standing there when I see a car coming down the lane. As soon as I recognize Vansh's Volvo — which is apparently working again — I make my way inside.
Fully intending to slip past Maya and hide out in my room, she steps out of the kitchen at that precise moment, still holding a dishtowel.
Hey, I could've helped her with that!
"Won't you keep us company for a bit?" she asks softly, carefully.
Is this a trick question? I don't really want to, but what if she wants me to?
Behind me, I hear the bustle of a car entering the garage.
"Please?" Maya asks, and it's a loaded word. She's asking me for more than staying downstairs for now. It's the same type of 'please' that was used when she hugged me.
Oh, that hug…
"I know it's hard for you," she whispers as multiple sets of footsteps approach the door. "Will you please try?"
There's something in the way she says it, as if she is afraid to ask this of me. This woman confounds me. And I am still busy being confounded when the door opens and Vansh, Ishani and Kabir enter the room.
"Oh, you're up!" Ishani exclaims and she skips towards me, making me stumble back a bit. She claps her hands and looks up at me with a sparkle in her eye. "I am so happy to see you better! You had us worried, you know."
Worried? Huh.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Vansh looking at me. To his right, Kabir stands, and he's looking at Vansh.
Ishani, in the meantime, is chattering on. "… now we can finally start to get to know you!"
I look back at her as her words register. The age-old knowledge makes itself known again. I'm not worth knowing. Lowering my eyes, I fidget a little before I shove my hands into the pocket of my sweater. I don't know what to do.
"Vansh, I haven't heard you play lately?" Maya asks out of the blue.
"Yeah, well, haven't had a mind to," he replies, shrugging and looking away.
"Well, play something now? I'm sure Riddhima would like to hear you play."
Now Vansh looks up at his mother and I can see he's uncomfortable. When his gaze shifts to me, I shake my head in a way I hope conveys that he shouldn't feel uncomfortable on my behalf. He doesn't have to play if he doesn't want to. And especially not for me.
I'd like to hear him play, though. A baby grand… I wonder how that will sound in this house. I'm sure the acoustics are fabulous.
Vansh smiles, a crooked smile, and looks down. "Some other time, maybe."
Maya tuts, but doesn't push. "So, how was school today?"
"Okay," Kabir answers just as Vansh says "purgatory, as usual."
I can't help my smile at this and I look down to hide it.
"Tons of homework," Ishani says brightly, before she turns to Vansh. "Come on. I still need to kick your ass in Gran Turismo."
"I'm game. Prepare for disappointment, though."
Ishani huffs and leads the way to the living room. She turns before she rounds the corner and Vansh and Kabir walk past her. "Hey Riddhima, want to see how to embarrass Vansh?"
"Will not!" he calls from the living room.
"Come on," Ishani says and her smile is so gentle, and her eyes are so sweet, I can't resist.
I'm giving in to an awful lot lately. I'm indulging myself. Yet I can't stop. It's completely addicting.
"Or do you want to play?" Vansh asks me.
I shake my head, startled by his request.
"Already trying to back out, Vansh?" Ishani says teasingly.
He cocks an eyebrow at her. "Never. Bring it on."
I take my seat in the same chair as I have used every time before in this room and I watch as Ishani and Vansh race each other. It's serious business and Ishani beats Vansh handily the first round.
Vansh is sitting on the couch beside Kabir, and Ishani is on the ground between them.
I force myself to look away.
Vansh starts a new game and he and Ishani race again, faces tense and fingers flying over controllers in order to get the cars on the screen to do what they want. Ishani wins.
Nobody is really talking, apart from the occasional comment ("three out of five!") and I find I am quite okay being here like this. They aren't paying any attention to me and it feels nice to be a part of this atmosphere, even, no, especially from the sideline.
It's incredibly selfish, I know.
The third round, Vansh wins, and he pumps his fist in the air to celebrate a silent victory as Maya comes in with drinks for everyone. She looks down at me and she's positively beaming.
"Are you okay?" she asks very softly.
I nod carefully.
"Good. That makes me happy," she whispers, and then she is away again.
Yeah, the woman confounds me.
And oh, that hug…
When Vansh and Ishani are on a tie, Angre and Sara enters the scene. They get a snack from the kitchen and then come to crash in the living room as well for a bit. It's a little crowded to my taste, but I try to stay calm. No signs of danger.
Yet.
"Hey, Riddhima!" Angre booms as he sees me. "Good to know that your voice is working at least!"
I cringe at his comment and the following silence is eerie.
"Don't you remember?" Ishani asks softly and my eyes snap to hers. "You screamed. That's why mom and dad came to find you. You had us all very worried there."
I don't know where to leave my hands and all of a sudden it feels very hot in this room.
"I guess you were hallucinating," she continues. "You don't remember?"
I shake my head, eyes wide. Not really, no.
"Well, you managed to awake even me," Angre chuckles, trying to make light of the situation, "and that's saying something."
"True," Kabir adds. "You can fire a cannon beside his bed and still he won't rouse."
Angre shrugs and mumbles something incoherent. "So, racing?" He tries.
The others chuckle and turn their attention back towards the game.
Whoa. I have rarely before witnessed this type of easy conversation. I am stunned.
"Riddhima?" I look up and see Maya standing at the entrance to the living room. "Will you join me in the kitchen for a moment?"
Oh, what did I do? I hurry to get up and do what she asks, trying to ignore the eyes I can feel watching my back.
Maya invites me to sit at the table and places a steaming mug of coffee before me. I lower my head in thanks and she smiles widely. "You're welcome. You really like coffee, don't you?"
I do. I used to be unable to function without it. But I'm tense, anxious. What does she want?
"So, how are you? Really?"
I look up to meet her eyes and blush when again I think back to Friday night. Looking away quickly, I realize I don't know what exactly she means by her question.
"Do you feel good enough to stay up? How long has the fever been down? Wait," she adds incoherently, and she gets up to produce a notepad and pencil from a kitchen drawer.
"How long has the fever been down?" she repeats.
Over fourteen glorious hours.
"Do you have any pains still? Any discomfort? How is your throat?"
It's good enough. I shrug and nod.
"Okay. Just take it easy, will you? You don't have to do anything here but get better."
To me, it's a non sequitur, and I try to hide my frown by picking up my mug. Sipping from my coffee, I realize how easy it has become in such a short time to even drink with others around.
"Is it confusing for you?" she asks softly.
Her words are so spot on right that I look up at her, unable to hide my surprise.
Maya chuckles softly, kindly. "I guess that it's different here from what you know?"
Yeah, you can say that again.
Maya takes a drink, thinking. When she puts down her mug again, she takes a moment before she speaks. "It won't change, you know."
I blink, stunned.
"Here, I mean. How things are here. It won't change."
My breath escapes in a gust and I find I am shaking. I don't even know what to think anymore.
"Just making things clear," she smiles.
I have never been more confused in my life, I should think.
"Oh, something else, I have filed a complaint against the doctor that examined you last week. He had no right whatsoever to treat you like he did and he will have to answer for his actions."
My eyes go wide again and I swallow. I wouldn't want that doctor to be in trouble because of me, but what strikes me more is that Maya seems to think that the man did treat me badly. I have thought this over before but I'm apprehensive to draw any conclusions.
"He had no right," Maya repeats softly and I have the distinct feeling she is no longer talking about that doctor.
For the second time in less than thirty minutes, the room feels too hot and I don't know where to look.
"Mom, what will we have for dinner?"
My eyes fly up and I can see Vansh standing at the breakfast bar. How long has he been standing there? I didn't hear him come in?
Damnation, I really should start paying attention more. He's so quiet it's alarming.
Maya fills him in on the menu and I fidget, uncomfortable.
"Speaking of which, I should get dinner going." Maya stands up and puts her mug in the dishwasher. Vansh trails back into the living room. When he is gone, Maya asks, "you okay? You look flustered."
I shrug it away and write my question down.
What can I do to help?
Reading it, she smiles at me. "You can help me by taking it easy. Keep me company if you want, or join the others in the living room. Whatever you like."
Whatever I like… I'd like to be cooking. Taking the shot, I write this down and for the second time, I am allowed to help to make dinner.
Maya is smug. She's trying to hide it but I think she's happy that I communicated an actual desire. However, she can't be any smugger than I am right now. I am helping out.
I am finally making myself useful.
I am pleased with myself indeed.
When Kabir steps in and starts to set the table without much more than a mumbled greeting, I look at him for a moment. I'm tensed up, but he's not paying me any attention whatsoever as he sets out eight plates in a manner that drips with routine. I shift my gaze to Maya, narrowing my eyes at her. She sees me and laughs, a happy laugh.
Hey, what's so funny here?
Even Maya stills, surprised.
"I'm sorry," Maya apologizes, but the corners of her mouth keep tugging into a smile. "I should have handled that differently. But you look so indignant. I'm sorry," she repeats, and laughs again.
Kabir hesitates, probably sensing he's intruding something, then turns to leave the kitchen. "I'll come back later."
Looking back at Maya, I wait for her to explain why I am not allowed to help out when the others obviously do, and even without being told.
"I'm sorry," Maya says again, serious now. "Let me try to explain. You probably took care of the entire household back in Phoenix, didn't you?"
Carefully, I nod. Where is she going with this? I notice though that she doesn't use Rajeev's name.
"Because it was expected of you?"
Again, I nod. My heart is slowly picking up speed as my apprehension builds. In the back of my throat, a coughing urge itches.
"And there were consequences when you didn't?"
I swallow thickly and I can see on her face that my reaction says more than any other sign could do.
Maya thinks for a moment, her mouth grim as she processes my responses. "That's what I thought. I wanted to teach you that we do not expect you to take care of the entire household. I thought it's better to not let you do anything, for fear that you would do more and more. You see, we spoke to Renee about this and she warned us you would. We wanted to give you some time off. And later, when you feel better and more at ease around us, you can do your part."
I listen, stupefied.
"It's not that we think you wouldn't be able to do it, but we don't want you to do it. Not all, at least. You have to learn to enjoy your life, without feeling obliged to take care of the house, for example."
Okay, now she's starting to talk nonsense.
"There will be no consequences if you don't make yourself useful," she finishes in a much softer voice.
Baffled, I look at this woman, my caretaker, my foster mother.
"Never, Riddhima. Remember the contract? No violence."
I look away, fidgeting again. The coughing itch builds and I can't keep it in anymore, I cover my face in my hands and give in to it.
Fuck damn I sound like a choking sea elephant.
"You're not better yet."
Guess not. But a cough like this can go on for weeks, surely she knows that if her husband is a doctor? I shrug. No way I am going back to bed, though.
"If the fever comes back, will you rest?"
I might. I turn to the sink to wash my hands and resume chopping the last of the vegetables to indicate this conversation is over if I have any say in it.
Maya sighs softly and turns back to the cooking island, igniting the stove and starting on dinner. After a minute or two, Kabir strolls back into the kitchen like nothing has happened and he finishes to set the table.
Only now do I fully register that the table is set for eight.
My movements still as I take in this tiny fact.
"Of course we set the table for you," Maya says softly, reassuringly as she notices the direction of my gaze. "You are part of our family now."
When I tear away my eyes from the table to meet her eyes, she smiles. "Will you join us for dinner? You don't have to eat if that's too much, but maybe you will join us?"
Oh Jesus, will she ever stop asking me questions like this?
Seeing my hesitation, Maya continues. "You don't have to. Would you rather eat in your room?"
I think I would. I have spent the afternoon in the company of others and to be honest, I am exhausted. Maya was right, stating that I wasn't better yet.
And so I eat up in my room once again. I feel worse than this morning when I go downstairs to clear my dishes away.
From the living room, I can hear the TV. And in the kitchen, there is Vansh, rummaging through the fridge. He looks up when he hears me and smiles in greeting.
"It's becoming a habit, us meeting in the kitchen," he says, a crooked grin lingering on his face.
The corners of my mouth turn into a smile at his words. He's right. It seems that every time we are alone together, it is in this kitchen.
"So, how are you? Really?"
His eyes are ablaze with sincerity as he asks me the exact same question Maya asked me earlier. He keeps shooting me glances, without asking he gets a second glass from the cabinet above him and pours out two drinks. He places the second glass on the breakfast bar before me while he starts to drink himself, looking at me over the rim of the glass.
"Well?"
I give a one-shouldered shrug. I'm not well, but I don't want to be uselessly lying in bed again.
"You know, I'd be staying in bed as long as I could if I was as sick as you have been," he says softly, lightly. "It's amazing to see you up and about already."
He indicates that the drink before me is indeed intended for me and slowly I pick up the glass. To what do I owe this unbelievable kindness?
Finishing his own drink, he steps back and leans against the counter, hands supporting him on both sides of his hips.
"You really don't remember that you screamed?"
Well, I deduced it, but that's not really the same, is it?
"You really had us worried," he says. A hand trails up to rub the back of his neck.
He's uncomfortable.
That's a common reaction people have around me and I am used to it. Then how come that with him, it matters?
"Anyway, good to know your voice still works, eh?"
That's what Angre said, too. Why do they consider this so important? I really don't see the fuss.
Seeing my expression, his smile falters. "You're not happy to know that?"
I cock my head, confused. Why would I be happy about this?
He exhales, lost for words. Well, this is awkward. I fumble with the glass, not sure what to do.
The sound of his telephone pierces through the silence in the kitchen and while I jolt, his face doesn't change as his hand slips into his pocket to get his cell out.
Checking the screen, he presses a button and the phone silences. He looks up at me, apologetically. "It's Natasha. You know, the girl you met Sunday, when you fell? I broke up with her last week, but she keeps calling me."
Looking down at his feet, he sniggers. "She told everyone at school that I had cheated on her. Unbelievable."
Oh, is that why Angre said something about his mistress?
Vansh shifts his gaze back to me. "She wasn't very nice to you when you met her here. I'm sorry for that. She had no right and I told her so."
Again with the right…
"Anyway, I have to get going. Homework, and such." He puts his empty glass in the sink and turns to leave the kitchen. At the corner, he turns around.
"It's nice to see you down here with us."
And then he's gone, leaving me confused once more.
To Be Continued.....