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A gasp left her lips when she saw the multicolored bracelet that was placed on the palm of her hand. She met my eyes in disbelief, and asked quietly, "You made this?"
Amused by her dumbfounded reaction, I replied in the same low tone that she had used, "I did."
"It's beautiful," She said breathlessly, as she picked it up to inspect the details. It was nothing too extraordinary. But I had tried to make it as unique as I could have. The simple yellow dots made the base of the band but the distinctive, vivid charms were what made it special. I had searched through the diverse trinkets available in the DIY kit for more than half an hour to finally gather these particular ones.
Holding the wristband, she flickered the charms with her finger as the tinkling sound of bell beads rang noticeably, feeble and soft.
She observed every piece, as her attention got attached to one of them. She asked, "A Book. What this is for?"
I grinned. "Because books with half-naked men on their covers are your choice reads. They are scattered all over the apartment at this point, I think, christening every nook and corner." The teasing tone was highly evident in my voice as I emphasized on her obsession with romance novels.
My bookshelf, which was earlier filled with non-fiction, was now crowded with books that had weirdly sexual titles like Mine Till Midnight and Seduce Me Till the Sunrise.
She bit her lip with a fascinating flush of red coating her cheeks and ears as if a child were being caught with a hand in a cookie box.
"They are great stress relievers," She muttered under her breath, avoiding my eyes.
Getting a kick out of her discomfort on the topic, I said, "Then maybe you will let me borrow some of them, perhaps? I have been feeling quite stressed lately..."
Her sharp narrowed gaze met mine when a snicker burbled through my mouth. She hit me lightly on the arm, mumbling angrily, "You are the worst!"
I upped my hands in surrender. "Let's not resort to violence. Take a look at the other ones."
Her touch lingered a little longer on the red angry bird charm, as she glowered at me.
"I don't like this surprise, at all," She huffed.
I bumped my shoulder with hers, saying, "I wanted to use a cactus charm, but it wasn't available in your collection. Because you are like a spiny prickly cactus on the outside but with a mushy soft heart on the inside. Would that have been better?"
She yelped, disagreeing, "I don't have a mushy soft heart! Whatever that means."
Even though she denied it, I knew how her soul was as soft as molten candle wax. How she communicated with the kids. How she cried silently in her room when she had a bad day at work, or when she read and watched an emotional scene in those books and movies of hers. How she contributed a major chunk of her earnings to an NGO, without telling anybody (I came to know about it while peeking into her monthly budget on her laptop, this afternoon). How she called her Dad every day to ask if he had taken his medicines or not. All of it, and many more, were effusive expressions of how caring and sensitive she actually was, even if she pretended otherwise.
"But you are so like a cactus. You get this adorably cute frown on your face when you are angry. Your lips and eyes twitch and your nose scrunches up and your cheeks became red with rage," I explained when the exact same expression covered her face, supporting my stance as I pointed out, exclaiming, "See! You are having it right now."
She pouted and exhaled, in resignation, as understanding dawned upon her. "Maybe you are right." She pointed her finger at me, and spoke with finality, "But I don't have a mushy heart."
"If you say so."
She hummed. "A cake slice? Because I like eating cakes?"
I nodded. "And also because you can't survive for a day without satisfying your magnanimous sweet tooth."
"That's an awful exaggeration," She remarked, her fingers carelessly clicking the cat charm next.
"And that one is for the hate-love bond between Momo and you."
She scoffed, "Hate, I understand. But where's the love?"
"You will love him soon-ish. And then you will thank me for adding this charm."
She offered me a noncommittal grunt.
"A paintbrush for the arty-creative bug inside me?"
"Yup."
A hint of a smile stretched on the corner of her pink lips. "I like this one."
"Why Thank you, Miss," I said, bowing my torso down as she laughed at my absurd formal style.
"A flower? What is this for?"
Just as she asked that, I inhaled deeply to take in that tantalizing faint fragrance of Jasmine which enveloped every inch of hers at all times. "It's for how you always have the sweet scent of Jasmine blooms."
Her eyebrows shot up and her tongue darted out to lick her lips, as the words descended slowly, "That's an...oddly...intimate observation, don't you think?"
"It is." Maybe I crossed a line that I shouldn't have with my earlier statement. After a beat of tense silence, she added, "By the way, it's not even a jasmine flower."
"I know that. But I had to make do with whatever I could find. And it's the thought that counts, right?"
She gave me one delicate shrug of the shoulder.
"A house?"
"For me and you living together."
"Uh, That's nice..." She wore the piece of jewelry on her wrist when I heard a sniffle coming from her. She chuckled, wiping the tears from her cheek.
This wasn't the reaction I was expecting at all. "Why are you crying now?"
She apologized, "I am sorry for being such a crybaby," And added, "It's just the most meaningful gift, I have ever received from someone."
"You like it?" I asked, wanting to confirm. She let out, glancing at me briefly, "It's cute."
"We can have it made in gold with custom-made gem charms. Then you would be able to wear it every time," I suggested.
"Nah, That would be too expensive. Thank you for this. I love it." She brushed the newly formed trail of tears below her eyelids and then in a classic Ria fashion, she insulted me in the very next sentence by continuing, "I didn't expect such dedication and thoughtfulness from you."
"And I didn't expect you to be such an ungrateful crybaby. So we are even, I guess," I retorted, drily.
She grinned through the tears, at my attempt to insult her back. "I said thank you, didn't I?"
"But then you hurt my feelings too. I am very thoughtful if I say so myself."
"Okay, you big baby. You are so very very thoughtful, alright?" She thumped the back of my hand that was kept on my thigh and turned it around to interlace her fingers with mine.
Goosebumps rose on the skin of my arm. A jolt of something astonishing passed from the tip of my fingers to my head at the surprising spontaneous connection of our hands being tangled together. The sensation of her skin against mine sent a gentle tingle throughout my arms, awakening a cascade of unnamed emotions.
Pretending to be hurt by that nickname, I whined, "When you are the one who cries at the smallest of things, then how am I the one who is a big baby, huh? That's not fair."
"Not everything is fair in this world," She said, with humor lacing her tone as she shifted a little closer to sit nearer to me.
I tightened my hold on her hand, as she leaned her head against my arm, sighing.
A companionable moment of stillness passed between us which was occasionally accompanied by the chirping of crickets and the distant hooting of birds. The gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze added a soothing soundtrack to the darkness of the night. "This feels nice, doesn't it?" Ria's question broke the silence.
"It does. A break from the daily routine becomes crucial sometimes."
Out of the blue, she said, "Your friend Tara..."
I stiffened at the mention of her.
Ria must have felt my discomfort at the sudden change of topic, as her prying eyes scrutinized me directly. "What about her?"
"Uh...she is a fresh recruit at my office. I met her this past week."
"That's...surprising," I commented, curtly.
"Hmm...can I ask you something, if you don't mind?" She tried to untangle our hands, but I gripped it tighter.
Even though I had a feeling that I wasn't going to like whatever she was going to ask me, I said, "Yes?"
She cleared her throat twice before asking, "Is there...is there any history between you and her?" Her tone wasn't that of judgment or envy, it was purely atoned with simple curiosity.
"That's something I am not comfortable discussing right now," I replied shortly, not wishing to extend this conversation.
"So, there is something?"
I shrugged, not answering her question.
With her gaze cast downward, her hand slipped away from mine as she murmured, "I am sorry if I overstepped a line with my question that I wasn't supposed to."
"You don't have to be sorry. It's just..." I tried to think of something that would explain to her that the part of my past with Tara wasn't something that I wanted to dwell upon, because we were evidently young and stupid when it happened, which left us feeling bitter about each other, even to this date. "Let's just drop this conversation," I let out sharply, frustrated at the turn of events.
"Alright." She nervously prickled the skin of her fingernail with her thumb, and I felt entirely guilty for making her feel awkward with my snug behavior.
No words were spoken after that, an invisible bridge of separation ruining the earlier bubble of ease that we had created around us.
We drove to the apartment after dropping the girls at their homes. Ria promised them to meet again in a few days.
The palpable silence filled the air as the rhythmic hum of the Radio accentuated the quietness.
Ria glanced outside of the window, her lips pulled down in a frown, with stress lines crinkling her forehead. A soft sigh of hers evaded the space, carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts and uncharted territories.
"About that proposal of working part-time with you..." Words trailed, as she glanced at me.
"Yes?" I probed, grateful for a welcoming change of topic.
"I accept it. I think that it would be a great experience for me since I have always wanted to work in Marketing and Branding. December is a chill month at work, so I will be able to better utilize my spare time as well."
Drumming my fingers on the steering, I nodded. "We can schedule the orientation whenever you are free this week. I will introduce you to the team and we can discuss the terms of the agreement."
"Okay."
Her fingers stretched the band of the bracelet, playing sloppily with it as she looked outside again. The atmosphere was back to being full of tension and awkwardness. I couldn't help myself but say, "I am sorry for my behavior earlier. I shouldn't have been so harsh. It's just a tough topic for me to talk about."
She met my eyes, and said, embarrassedly, "Nah...it was my mistake for poking my nose into your business. I shouldn't have been so nosy."
Missing the earlier lightheartedness, I gasped loudly, "Did I hear that right? Miss I-am-always-right, is actually admitting to doing something wrong? Am I witnessing a once-in-a-millennium moment?"
She hid her newly formed smile by looking away from me, "Don't push your luck. Otherwise, I will take my words back and pester the fuck out of you till you tell me everything about that hush-hush topic."
I mock saluted her, saying, "As you wish, Madam."
***
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