Chapter 10 - Collecting Your Tears

I think chapter 10 calls for a bit into the past… don’t you? :P

~

It is not our silence that is deafening but all the words underneath it, yelled in our heads. 

- David Levithan

~

She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath in, letting the tirade of emotions that continued to assault her run yet another loop around her mind. She was finding it difficult to digest all of these, one action contradicting the other, her memories not letting her accept the possibility of change, not allowing her to give him another chance no matter how much her heart wanted to. 

She re-traced her steps back, stopping at the door to what had been their room once long before, where she had felt like a prisoner in her own fragile cage of a heart. She remembered the constant dark abyss, his words that had only stung, rapidly giving way to their last night when everything had taken a 180 degree turn. She remembered his broken voice, his apologies, his words,

"I'm so sorry Khushi,"

"please bring me out of this misery Khushi, please stop this pain,"

"please make me stop loving you Khushi."

She closed her eyes, letting the tears that had gathered trail their way down her cheeks, grabbing the material of her pants as she stepped back away from the threshold. She knew it was wrong, this is what she had run away from for all of those years ago, this is what she had feared and now it was all coming true. Her painful memories, her life that had never gone right was back to haunt her and like every other time she didn't know what to do to fix it. 

She began to walk away, back towards where she was sleeping when she reached Arshia's room, the room with a large portrait of herself. She'd put her baby to sleep but not bothered to explore the room further. This time she stepped in and turned the blue light at the corner on, taking care not to wake up her sleeping angel, she looked so serene so at peace in her sleep; a stark contrast to her parents. She thought about that word, it seemed to be the first time it had occurred to her, “parents,” she mouthed it then, whispering it into thin air.

“Parents,” gulping at how it felt in her mouth, how it felt saying it out loud. Arshia didn’t just have a father or a mother but both and he was giving her back to her for reasons she could not comprehend and she would take Arshia from him. She would leave Arshia devoid of parents and give her only a mother. She stepped away from the cot, that though causing her to stumble, she wasn’t sure how she felt about that, of how it would affect Arshia. She found herself moving away from the cot, towards the far wall till her back banged into the wall, against something jutting into her back. She turned around, almost as if she was taken aback by the sudden assault, only to find herself in front of a dozen photo frames. She quickly wiped away the tears that blurred her vision, letting her fingers trail through the ridges of one of them. She continued to wipe away at them, as the tears now flooded out in streams, her emotions so inexplicable that she wasn’t sure of what to do anymore.

It was a large picture, a silver rectangular frame with small slit ridges, in the middle the only two people that seemed to hold any importance in her life. Arshia was barely the length of Arnav’s forearm, she looked so comfortable, snuggled in the midst of a large white blanket, her face almost hidden from view. Arnav stood holding her, facing downwards, watching Arshia as the picture was clicked. She let her hand trail over his tall profile, how he seemed to hold her little angel, his sole focus being Arshia. She didn’t let her eyes linger too long there, the fear of her heart breaking any second more pronounced. Instead she took a step over, letting her eyes fall on another picture; in this one Arnav was yet again holding Arshia, she looked equally as small, yet again wrapped in a bundle of blankets, this time her tiny small face visible. Khushi let her eyes hover over it fondly, cherishing every missed minuscule of a second of her babies life that she had missed. She looked back to Arnav, there was a small smile on his lips, one that did not quite reach his eyes, dark caramel orbs, not the ones she had fallen head over heels for. His face however was not as haggard; he looked better, closer to what she remembered him looking like when she’d left. She closed her eyes, unable to take anymore.

Gathering herself together quickly, she walked over to the cot, her hands hovering in the air for a few second then bending down scooped Arshia into her arms, revelling in how snugly her daughter fit into her arms. She waited till she wriggled around; adjusting then fell back into her deep slumber.

****

It was a great while later that Arnav finally mustered up the energy to stand up, he wasn’t sure of what to do with his life anymore. These past few days seemed to have passed in a blur, at first his sheer determination, then his crumbling faith and now his torturously breaking heart. He couldn’t image a life devoid of Arshia, of her soft gurgles in the morning, her tiny hands feeling the features of his face, her long slumbers, her large inquisitive eyes, her angry cries, the feel of warm tears dripping down her face. He felt a little piece of him break off with every step he took up the stairs. He was lost, in thoughts of Arshia, of Khushi, of the life he had destroyed with his own hands. He was angry, disappointed, but more than anything he was a broken man. He knew he wouldn’t be able to live without Arshia, he wouldn’t come back to a house where the word “papa,” would continue to resound off of every wall.

His mind went into a state of panic as soon as he stepped into Arshia’s room, he quickly ran over and held onto side of her cot, his eyes searching for her as if she was a small displaced object. He began to move around the room, unable to escape the terror that was rapidly spreading through him. Had Khushi taken her? Had Khushi not even felt him worthy of seeing his daughter one last time? No she wouldn’t do that would she? She wouldn’t be that heartless! He quickly ran out of the room, taking long strides towards the rom Khushi had chosen to sleep in, stopping short at the sight that beheld him.

He leaned against the wall taking in a deep breathe as relief finally washed through him. He watched them for a second, Khushi’s arm around Arshia cradling her into her chest and he felt like an outsider for the second time that day. For the second time that day he saw Khushi shielding their child off into their own little world, where he wouldn’t be welcome, where he would not be a part of Arshia’s life and he hated how it still looked right.

A memory:

“No you don’t understand! That is my baby! What do you mean I have no proof of that? I’m telling you that is my child! And anyway even if it wasn’t it is a three day old baby! I want her found right now!” Arnav bellowed into the phone, he could literally feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he paced around his room.

“This is all my fault Chotey,” he heard his sister cry, cradling her swollen stomach in her arms, “I’m so sorry Chotey I should have told you earlier, I should have kept that man away,” she continued to blame herself.

He strode up to her then, rapidly running out of patience, “yes it was Di! It was your fault, it was my fault! It was OUR fault! And I will not let my child pay for it!” He exclaimed then stormed out of the room.

If only Khushi would let him explain.

****

“Papa?”

Khushi woke up with a start, quickly responding to the gentle murmur against her chest. She looked into large searching eyes, watched them blink twice then warm tears burst out of them. Khushi sat up with a start, her baby’s loud cries sending her into panic mode.

“What… What’s wrong baby? Arshia what’s wrong?” She questioned gently taking her into her arms as Arshia struggled against her.

“PAPA!” Arshia wailed through her tears, kicking her legs in all sorts of different directions as Khushi held onto her quite clearly lost on what to do.

Arnav burst through the door just then, his eyes frantic as he reached the bed in a few quick strides then stopped short. He was completely lost on what to say, it was one of his instincts, he was attuned to Arshia’s every reaction and she was all too used to seeing his face first thing in the morning, even if it was just a picture that Anjali sometimes waved in front of the little thing.

Khushi watched him, her eyes wide, now slightly oblivious to the child kicking about in her arms, his concern for Arshia always putting her into a state of shock.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets then took a few steps back, creating space between him and the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his eyes downcast, “I just heard Arshia crying and it was just an instant reaction,” he admitted then slowly began to turn around.

Khushi gulped, her reaction to his words this time almost automatic, “it’s okay, I think she wanted you anyway,” she offered, extending Arshia in her arms towards him.

He scrunched his brows together, taken aback by this sudden gesture but on seeing Arshia’s face a dark shade of pink with tears, took her into his arms without a word.

“There there baby girl, you’re alright, I’m here, I’m here,” he cooed, swaying her in his arms as she slowly quietened down, gulping in large intakes of air, her little chest heaving from all of that effort.

He smiled down at her, letting her take his hand and hold onto it, as if she was afraid that he would leave again.

“You’re okay, Papa’s here, you’re okay baby girl,” he continued to coo, all of which Khushi watched from a distance.

He took a seat on the side of the bed, seemingly lost in the world of him and their baby, clearly oblivious to all-else now.

“You love her,” she wasn’t sure if it was a statement, question or just a sentence out of her unconscious mind.

He looked up towards her, their tired gazes meeting in a sort of haze but he flitted his gaze away quickly, looking back towards Arshia and smiled causing her to clap her hands and giggle.

A small smile spread across Khushi’s face at that, her heart melting away in her chest.

“Yes I do,” he mumbled admittedly, refusing to meet Khushi’s eyes, “I love her more than anything in this world.”

“More than di?” She didn’t know why she asked that, over so many years of pondering the downfall of whatever they had had maybe she had finally decided that his immense love for his di had somewhere blinded him to everything else. Not that she blamed him or her.

He looked back up at her again, not at all surprised by her question this time, the look of guilt all but too clear in his face, his caramel orbs drowning once more. “More than everything,” he finally murmured, his voice and gaze both lowered.

She continued to watch him, lost for words, she regretted asking him that, regretted putting herself in this sort of situation again and watching him hold her baby in his arms, the love and adoration that seemed to trickle out of his very eyes at her she felt something change inside of her.

Her baby’s tiny little giggles began to pull at her heart in all sorts of directions.

“I don’t know what I’ll do when you take her,” he admitted quietly, his eyes distant, his voice nearly breaking at the last syllable.

She couldn’t keep it in any longer, couldn’t placate her torn mind. She didn’t know what it was, his words, his tears or just the sheer helplessness with which he had uttered those words but it finalised her decision. She still didn’t understand why he was doing this, still wasn’t ready to give him a chance but right now she had to fight the urge she felt to just take him into her arms and embrace him, let him know that she would be there for him. But she didn’t because it wasn’t the truth, because yet again she was giving into her wretched heart and emotions.

Edging closer as he looked towards her she took her hold of one of Arshia’s hands, wrapping her palm around the little hand. She looked upto him then, their gazes meeting once more.

“I don’t think I’m going to take her anymore,” she mumbled quietly.

~

She wasn’t bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.

-       Stephen Chbosky , The Perks of Being a Wallflower