"Hello," a deep male voice seemed to come out of the shadows. I softly gasped, looking around while holding the cigarette behind my back, an instinctive habit.
"Who's there?" I whispered, the sound almost caught in my throat barely audible as I backed away from the edge. Narrowing my eyes I peered into the deep blackness of space wondering if there had been someone there all this time? I remembered checking. How could I have missed? Was I so wrapped up in my own misery that I was being super careless? This wasn't good.
"I didn't mean to scare you," said the disembodied voice. Even through my fear of having been caught I couldn't help but notice that this persons accent was not Indian...but then again I still couldn't quite make it out completely since he hadn't said much.
"Well you did it anyhow," I snapped, trying to regulate my heartbeat. "Have you been up here all this time?"
"Yes, you were so occupied that you didn't notice I suppose," he said softly, his voice low, masculine, soothing. It was British.
I didn't know how to respond. I remained silent for a few seconds. "Can you please come out of the shadows?" I finally bit out, frustrated. Seemed like life was always frustrating me, or at least most aspects of it.
He did without a word. From what I could make out he was about 5'11 or so, with the same dark hair and eyes of most of the populace in the country, again it was too dark to really see all that clearly. There wasn't anything much to distinguish him from anyone else other then his accent or at least I didn't think so. Then again, nothing in the last 6 months had made much an impression on me. I turned away, secure in the knowledge that I didn't know him, that was really all I cared about anyhow. Pulling the cigarette from behind my back I took another drag. I saw from the corner of my eyes that he had come to stand beside me yet several feet away. I appreciated that.
"It's rather humid, isn't it?" He asked almost conversationally.
Rolling my eyes, I responded, "Isn't it always?" It wasn't a question as much as an instinctive comment, a thoughtless one.
"Hmmm," the sound seemed to come deep from his throat. It too was soothing. Just about then I noted that he too was indulging in a cigarette. At least he wouldn't give me a lecture regarding the dangers of smoking, I thought to myself. There was still the niggling fear that he would tell someone what I was doing but it was as easy as feigning ignorance and confusion. I was good at that so it wouldn't be that big of a stretch.
We both smoked on, neither saying a word. The silence was comfortable in an odd way. Or may be I didn't care if it was or not, I just craved the solace badly and would rather share it with one person than being forced to withstand the house full of folks downstairs. Besides it appeared as if he had forgotten I was there as well while he smoked on, staring off into the distance. Something about him reminded me of myself, a loneliness that wasn't just in the soul but radiated out. A sadness that hung over a person almost like mist. I did another mental eye roll, gosh I was becoming sappy.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled long, holding it in for a bit, then exhaled slowly wishing I could get rid of some of the inner turmoil as easily. But then like the black tar that was probably even then settling into my lungs, the problems were equally as deep and clinging. God, my life was so screwed. I couldn't even find mental satisfaction in my addiction.
"I don't want to go back down," he said startling me again. I had nearly forgotten he was there.
Keeping my eyes closed I nodded, not knowing or caring if he was looking.
"It's as if breathing became tough."
Yes, he was certainly right about that. "And the noise, aren't there any noise ordinances in this country?" I wondered allowed slightly hating how...American I sounded.
He chuckled good naturedly, "no I don't believe there are, at least not that I know of."
"Next time I'll bring along earplugs," I drolly responded, giving it some serious thought a second later when a blast of loud laughter filtered up to us. "How this is not a nation of deaf people is a mystery."
"I guess they're just used to it and I'm assuming you're not?" He had turned his head to look at me.
"Right." I didn't need to share more information then I had to with this guy.
"American?"
"Yes."
"First time in India?"
"No."
"Chatty?"
"No." I internally grimaced at how short I was being but I just wanted to be left alone.
"Okay seems like I'm disturbing your solitude. My apologies." He sounded formally polite without any underlying tones of accusations or anger, more as if he were stating and observation but I felt like a heel as I watched him turn to leave.
"I'm sorry." I said softly, my words being blown away by the heated wind that had kicked up. Tears suddenly stung my eyes. I dismissed them as a bit of dirt yet in reality I knew... "I shouldn't be so rude." I said hoping I didn't sound as lost as I seemed to my own ears.
"It's okay, no issues." He hadn't walked away, just stopping in place, head turned towards me.
Sighing, I almost spoke to the air as opposed to him as I said, "I feel as if I'll go crazy. Just too...much, too overwhelming. It's like I'll never be alone again." It was true, constantly surrounded by family (some of which I barely knew) and friends (who were not my friends at all) there was not a moment in which I was just by myself.
"That's not a good thing, hmm?" This time he turned around but not moving closer. Again in his voice there was no inflection of judgement or sarcasm, rather a strange sort of understanding.
"Not always, no. I'm not a loner but I like me time." I looked at him askance, "very western in thinking, isn't it?"
He nodded, his face impassive but a slight smile playing around his lips, "yes, but that's okay also. You are the product of your environment, as these people are."
Well put, I thought. I had never considered myself a terribly judgemental person. In fact I prided myself for being open-minded free-thinking however since I had arrived in India 2 weeks ago I had been walking around with a perma-scowl on my face. Everything irritated me, everyone annoyed me, all mannerisms seemed boorish and uncouth. Yet the weird thing was that this was not my first trip. I had visited throughout my childhood and never ever had I not enjoyed it, embraced it, loved it. Going home had always been earmarked with floods of tears. But this trip was different in all respects and this very difference in itself was the precise reason that the whole experience was unfairly tainted. I shouldn't blame nor damn the whole country for my stupid problems.
"I should go back." I said almost sorrowfully, looking down at the stubbed out cigarette that I had finished several minutes ago.
"Me too. I'm sure someone is looking for me." He sounded glum also. "You go down first, I'll follow later, we don't need people to think..."
I just nodded, coloring slightly. Thank god it was dark outside. "Thanks," I murmured and sort of scurried away. With all the tension in the house as it was, I didn't need another thing to be added to this, particularly when there was nothing to be added.
Back down the hazardous stairs I went but before going through the bottom door I stopped, reached into the top of my bra and pulled out one stick of gum which I popped into my mouth, then I pulled out a very small sample vial of perfume and strategically dabbed. Long since had I perfected the art of covering up the smell of smoke and thank god thus far I had not been caught. Once the careful application of Channel No. 5 was complete I inched the door open, again I cringing at the loud protest of the rusted hinges but quickly slipped in and to the left. Thankfully for that second at least there was no one around but a few servants rushing by with plates of food and serving trays of drinks. I shook my head wondering how they kept up this pace all day long. It was tiring to just behold.
Within a few seconds I was safely in my room, or rather the room I was presently sharing with my cousin. She wasn't there but had she been I wouldn't have been overly concerned. She knew I smoked, as did most of my other cousins, and would keep it a secret besides I had so much dirt on her as well as them that they were in fear of retaliation. Would I ever rat them out? No, but it was a good bargaining chip for most things.
I went to the low dressing table across the room and sank down onto the small stool. It was wooden as well as rickety, hard and uncomfortable but I didn't seem to feel that bit of nuisance as I took a seat. I stared at the reflection before me, something I had been avoiding for days now and it was no surprise that the person looking back appeared as foreign to me as those who were presently surrounding my very space, as unknown in a familiar way as the country I had been inhabiting for the last few weeks.
The girl in the mirror, she was a virtual stranger really. She had lost a good bit of weight, which was probably a positive thing normally but the loss had left her cheeks hallow while her face could aptly be describe as gaunt, odd indeed for one who was supposed to be happy. Her hair lay lifeless pulled back into a low ponytail and her eyes...eyes that had always shone with humor and a zest for life, those were completely vacant presently with smudged dark shadows decorating the delicate skin just below. There was a tightness about the lips that normally were so quick to laugh or smile and the shoulders drooped in a clear sign of defeat. Had anyone asked her what was wrong? No, of course not because the majority knew.
I turned my face away. I hated my reflection, I could even admit that I hated myself. I was weak and pathetic, a grown woman who did not possess a backbone. This was probably one of the harshest lessons I had learned recently for I had always thought that I was for the most part the controller of my own destiny, that I could and would make the decisions of my life. Nothing unusual about that really. Yet I had forgotten...why had I so deluded myself? Why had I for a second believed that I had the right to do what my heart wanted as opposed to what my family and society expected of me? Oh why God had I not remembered that I was nothing but a helpless puppet at the end of the day? And when it had come time to put my foot down, to make those hard and fast decisions, to say 'no, that's not what I want, this is..." I had given up so damn easily. I had no backbone at all, a fact that I had never accepted before, a fact I could never forget again. I had given up on life, my life, and the evidence was in the very fact that I was there in India.
"There you are." I turned to find my mother rushing into the room in a flurry of dark pink Benarasi silk, interrupting the pity party I was throwing myself. "Where have you been?" She demanded to know, sounding almost suspicious. Whereas I could have told her that her suspicions were unfounded, that my cell phone even at that moment was charging safely on the other side of the room therefore she had nothing to fear, it was this very distrustful tone that ruffled my feathers to the point where I snapped my mouth shut and stared at the floor.
"Had a headache, came to get some medicine." I murmured adopting the same curt tone that I had been utilizing for a while now. I knew it was disrespectful and that she probably wanted to rip into me for it but honestly she could do nothing. She controlled too much as it was, something she knew. She was methodically picking her battles and it looked as if she was definitely going to win the war.
"Well they're here. Come." Her face was impassive, hard, totally unyielding. I wanted to hate her but I couldn't really, not really. May be though, at that moment I did. Just a bit.
With a jerk up and down of my head in what could resemble a nod, I got up and grabbed the dupatta that had been tossed onto the bed a few minutes earlier. Draping it around my neck to float behind, I followed her without a word. She was a foot or so in front of me, saying nothing but then again I would have heard nothing had she even bothered to speak. We had had conversations regarding this moment a few times already. I did not need to hear it again for if I did, this time I would go up to the roof and jump.
We entered the big main 'hall room' as they called it otherwise known as the family room near the front of the house. There were an astonishing amount of people there. Every one of them were dressed, primped, rouged and perfumed to within an inch of their lives. Head to toe women sparkled, the weight of the gold they wore probably adding several extra lb's to each as their figures were wrapped in elaborate gorgeous vibrant fabrics. The men wore pressed dress pants and collared shirts, shoes scuffed with dirt and they seemed to be surrounded by a cloud of a mixture of several different brands of colognes. One one side the females congregated in chairs lined against the wall talking about this recipe, that sari, this sale or that trip. On the opposite side the males were seated on sofas and clustered in groups speaking extensively about politics, finances or the new car they just purchased or the land they were about to purchase. These were conversations I had heard so many times throughout my childhood and into adulthood, whether they were being had in the US or in India, it was the same damn thing.
I wished more then anything I was back on the roof at that very moment, breathing in the heated air, even if I had to share the space with that stranger, it was better then what was about to happen. My father suddenly materialized to my left, while my mother flanked me on the right. They walked me through to another room, smaller, one more formal and a tiny less crowded. I saw out of the corner of my eyes the same man I had saw earlier from my escape sitting on a sofa chatting with another young man his age. He glanced up, our eyes met, we did not acknowledge each other in the slightest. He quickly went back to the conversation at hand. I noticed barely anything about him even in the light. I wasn't interested in noticing anyone...I was blinded from the inside.
We stopped.
"Thank you for coming." My father's voice brought my head to face forward. He was speaking to another couple who stood side-by-side, respectable, well dressed, smiling pleasantly, obviously married for they stood scandalizing close, meaning as in next to each other. Next to them stood a younger version of the older man, his hands jammed into his pockets, head held high and a smile that seemed uncomfortable stretched upon a pleasant enough face.
I knew who he was all too well even though this was our first meeting...he was supposed to be my future.
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