Ghalat fehmi - Superstar
Aisa nahi kahin koi hai, Ghalat fehmi jo bani hai
Khoya nahi apnaapan, Ehsaas ki raah chuni hai
Tarasti hain nigaahein meri, Takti hain raahein teri
Sunn kabhi aahein meri, Yeh kaise main bataaun
Tujhe soti nahin aankhein meri, Kat'ti nahin raatein meri
My hands were unsteady, fingers trembling like I was experiencing cold when I brought the blade closer to my face to shave off my month-long beard. I'd briefly met mamma and the only thing she said to me was a complaint about my beard. When I finally reached home two days later, I decided to get rid of it. In her eyes, her son was not looking like a gentleman. I scoff, turning the tap on, the white foam had turned a light shade of red with my blood. I had several shallow cuts on my cheeks, another sign of my ineptness.
The workload is taking a toll on me, with my plaster and bandaged finger I feel like a cripple. After Lorenzo's death and Soto spending all night guarding Zara's house, I work double to hide his absence on the field.
I rubbed the aftershave over my clean-shaven face, feeling the sting on my skin. I fucking looked normal, felt normal with the pain ricocheting in my hands and face. It's been fucking while since Emiliano decided to baby me by barring me out of the fighting rings. Not that I have time. From watching Zara like a stalker every morning before heading for work, then getting my hands dirty at night, I have never been this busy in my life.
I was ambling towards the fridge to rummage for something to eat when my phone dinged. A message from Soto flashed on my screen. I threw everything and drove to Zara's house.
Using the key to her house, I jerked open the door and let myself in. Zara was on the floor, her legs tucked beneath her, hands falling limp to her side. Fat tears trickled down her face as she watched Van, sleeping on his bed. Her expression was twisted in a frown, her rosy lips were chapped and dry.
I slowly approached and sat beside her on the floor. Her hands slowly wrapped around my waist, a sense of relief flooded me when her familiar warmth engulfed me. I snake my arms around her, pulling her small frame to my lap.
Her silent cries became loud sobs, she fisted my shirt tightly, peeking at Van as he drew slow inhales. His black and tan fur had thinned, revealing the outline of his now bony structure. The doctors in the hospital often texted me regarding Van's fragile health. Today, they released him to be with Zara at home during his final moments.
I reached over to hold him in my arms, his droopy eyes shot open. Zara drew in stuttering breathe clinging to me.
"Hey, little man." I cooed, carefully holding him. The bile rising up my throat became painful when he wailed in pain. The bones in my throat became tight as a bowstring, hurting like they would snap in two if I move them too quickly.
Zara and my interlaced fingers run up and down Van's back together, attempting to give him some relief. I pulled them both closer to my chest. Trying to get a hold of them as they were slowly slipping from my life.
Zara's head was on the crook of my neck, her body was going through tremors as she silently cried, biting on her lips so no sound would come out of her mouth. My shirty was drenched from her tears. Van's breathing was strangulating but he managed to keep his eyes open, peering at me with his puppy dog eyes. Putting on a brave face, I gave him a small smile. Van's dazed eyes would flicker between Zara and me, as we murmured things to him.
His dry tongue slowly peeked out, it was white as a ghost. Zara had a small bottle ready for him. But he was too weak to suck on it. We managed to give him some drops by feeding him through a spoon. Zara's hand trembled splashing the water down on her clothes. I held her wrist to steady it, Zara's red puffy eyes slowly peered at me, as we fed Van.
An hour later, Van took his last breath in my arms. Zara bellowed crying against my chest pleading for Van to come back to her.
"He is gone, Principessa. He is gone." My own voice quivered. The small lazy animal I had considered weak was my Principessa's strength, her first companion in this new country. That kept her company, maintaining her sanity in the best way possible. When she had lost the sense to function, she went out for his food, his appointments.
"I am so sorry, Principessa..." I crooned, again and again, cradling her in my arms.
Hauling Zara in my arms, I took her to the bedroom. My jacket and t-shirt I had forgotten of, were sitting on the back of a chair. When I leaned down to settle her on the bed she whispered.
"Stay tonight."
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I nod. I joined her in bed, without removing my clothes. I spooned her from behind, her cheek pressed on my bicep. I buried my face in her hair as I whispered sweet nothings in her ear. Every time she hiccuped in her sleep, my chest hurt. I laid awake, thinking of ways to bring her out of this loss. Because unlike me, Van was good for her.
*****
In the morning, I jerked awake from her phone's alarm blaring. I reached over to turn it off so she could sleep. But she moved before me, turning it off.
Afraid of her reaction, I did not move a fraction. Zara's breathing pattern had changed, she was completely awake. Indeed, she had asked me to stay the night but I don't know how she would react to my presence now.
Her fingers hovered over my bandaged knuckles as she spoke. "I can't teach, Gian." Her voice was raw and hoarse from crying.
I nodded stiffly, still spooning her from behind. "Take your time."
"I ran here when things got difficult in Canada. I wanted to run again, when... But I stayed for Van. So I'll just go back to Canada now." She whispered.
"Take your time, Principessa. I'll call the school." I tell her, leaving a kiss on her head. She squirmed under my hold, so I lose my hands wrapped around her allowing her to twist around in my hold.
Her swollen bloodshot eyes met mine, the helplessness behind them had me worried shitless.
"I don't think... I will come back here." She said in a shaky whisper.
My heart shattered into pieces. My throat ran dry.
"No, Principessa." I pleaded, shaking my head vehemently in denial. I didn't beg her to stay in my life. But I can't live with her being in a different country thousands of miles away from me. I need her in my life. in my city where I can safeguard her.
I cup her jaw in my palm. She closed her eyes in resignation, hot tears fell on my biceps where her head lay. "I can't stay here, Gian." She whimpered.
And I knew I can't take this liberty from her to lament over Van's death. She has already cooperated too much. She has never complained about me intertwining her innocent life with mine. Taken the small favors I had her in school for Van and the most difficult, to have her followed every day.
Reaching down, I press my lips over hers, tasting the saltiness and warmth of her tears.
"I'll arrange it." I whisper.
"No..." She was beginning to refuse, but I kissed her again. Placing a hand over her hips, I rolled over, coming on top of her. She tried to plunge her tongue inside my mouth, I parted my lips to give her the opening. We kissed each other deeply, putting our emotions on the touch, how much love we have felt for each other. My grabby hands raked over her body as her soft hands gripped tightly on my arms.
When we finally broke the kiss to get some much-needed air. I pressed one last kiss to her lips, her head flew up from the pillow to deepen the kiss but I shook my head. She will regret this later and I have already given her too much pain to mourn over. I leave a kiss on the small of her cheeks as I had the first time, then left her house with a vow to become the man she wanted. To give her a reason to come back here, to me. If not, I would prefer to die peacefully. Because even if it had been for a short period, Miss Honey loved this Mafia.
I brushed my fingertips over my lips, his touch was lingering there. I got startled out of my daydream when my phone beeped. Jerking into action, I zipped the trolly bag. Though I didn't feel like returning to San Diego, I only packed essentials with me. Unlike the last time when I left Canada to come here and start a new life. My suitcases were packed to the brim, I had even packed my toothbrush, paid a lot of money at the airport for extra luggage. I had looked like an idiot wheeling out a heavy luggage trolley with suitcases piling up to my chin.
This time I only had a half-full trolley bag, and handbag hanging off my shoulder. I closed the front door punching in the security codes. Not feeling the ounce of pain like I might be here for the last time perhaps. Unlike the previous time when I had closed the door to my parent's house with force, cutting off the noise of my mother's shouting and father pleading with her to calm down.
My gaze flitted over the rows of flower pots aligned perfectly in a straight line. Each of them had a blooming flower. And the trees, even they seemed to be growing small buds like they were telling me to stay and watch them bloom. They will be needing me soon to take care of them like they used to. I close my eyes and walked away from all of that I had built, the legacy of Mrs. Tanner I had sworn to look after.
A black SUV was waiting at the front. Soto climbed out and held the door to the backseat open for me. I shook my head and pointed to the passenger seat beside him. He nodded. I walked toward the passenger seat and opened the door myself, whilst he took care of my small luggage. Before getting inside, my desperate gaze scanned around in the hopes to catch a glimpse of Gian. I snorted, I wasn't that lucky. If I were, we would be still together.
On route to the airport, I took several deep breathes, as I felt like I would pass out from the lack of air if I don't draw them manually. When we reached, I jerked open the door, stumbling out like the car was on fire.
After I finally got my breathing in control, I found the man in charge of the traffic sulking towards us. Soto had parked at the drop and go facility and was waiting for me patiently to get a grip. Gian would have never broken a rule for me.
Soto handed me the tickets along with my small luggage. Gian had arranged everything. I only received a message from the airline regarding the flight schedule. I give a quick hug to him and a peck on the small of his cheek that wasn't covered with a beard.
"Take care." I whisper, he let out a small grunt making me smile.
*****
I have always traveled in business class with my parents and never really appreciated the luxury it comes with. Until, When I had moved to San Diego from Vancouver, the sense of beginning to save money for my future had kicked in and I booked a ticket in the economy class. During the flight, a man kept kicking on my seat like a football for hours. He would take a few minutes to break only to start all over again and then there was this woman who wouldn't stop talking to me.
Travelling alone and sitting in the economy were both my first experiences for me and now going back there two years later, I am also experiencing something entirely new. The tickets Gian had given me were first class.
There were only 9 other pods. And I'm certain the woman I just passed whose face is half covered in gigantic glasses is an Academy nominee actress. The first class was situated on the upper deck, giving a feel like I'm on a private jet. The fluffy bed was made up with fine linens, already being in the exact temperature I prefer. Declining the bubbly champagne and TV screen mounted, I curled into a ball covering myself with the temperature-regulated duvet.
The sliding doors on the pod, which I didn't know I had was silently shut, muffling my cries. Gian and Van were the best things that ever happened to me. Their face flashes in my head every time I closed my eyes. I pulled out my phone to see Van's pictures and found the one with Gian and him from the night came he to my house after Bellagio. I had thought they were somehow got deleted by me. And I just never brought up the topic. Happy tears fell from my face sinking in the expensive fabric of my pillow as my fingers hovered over their picture.
I jerked awake when something constantly nudged on my shoulder.
'Miss Sinclair...' 'Miss Sinclair....' A small voice called my name. My eyes opened groggily. When I noticed a pretty woman in front of my face, I shot up straight scanning my surrounding frantically.
"Miss Sinclair. You are on a flight." She said helping, there wasn't any hint of judgment behind them. Another perk of traveling first class. She'll wait for the flight to land and then tell people about having a stupid woman on her flight with her friends later.
"We are gonna land soon." She added.
"Seatbelts..." I mumble awkwardly, making a bigger fool of myself by rubbing my eyes with the heel of my hand as I spoke.
*****
Are you one of those people who don't plan for anything beforehand and cross the bridge when you get to it? And surprisingly everything falls into place when you get there.?
I am not one of those people. My ability to make a good decision kicks in when I am planning it. At home wearing my PJ, snuggled under the warmth of my blanket thinking of the smallest of things I'm supposed to do for the upcoming days, not when I am holding my luggage standing in the middle of the airport at the centre of the crossover.
'blind fucking idiot', 'prost', 'јебени идиот', 'Excusez-moi' I heard people say these things under their breath as I was jostled by the passengers rushing towards their destination
I jump back when I heard a loud screeching sound similar to the wheels of the train hitting the tracks. I realized it came from a trolley shunter taking rows of empty trolleys. I felt so ashamed when he gave me a dirty look as he walked away.
Swallowing the embarrassment, I adjusted the straps on my shoulder bag and walked with my head held high. I was surprised to find a buff man standing on the other side of the pavement holding a placard with my name on it.
I frowned at him, as he had spotted me the moment I got out even though I was obviously late. He dropped his hand carrying the placard and reached for something in his suit's pocket. He pulled a phone and waved it in my direction. Understanding his gesture I got my phone out of my bag. There was a text from Gian, with that man's picture on it and name, Mario Ricci.
I cross the small distance feebly. Mario drove me to a hotel a mile away from my house. When Gian said he would arrange everything for me, I thought he was talking about the flight back here. Not this five-star hotel, I'd dined in a few times. Depressed and resigned I went to the suite, not a room, and crashed on the bed face down. Crying over the loss of my Van.
*****
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