Wilted Petals

Chapter 11: The Worst Nostalgia

Time is like water. The days, which feel like drops, eventually form into a continuous stream which flows by in a flash. That's exactly what it feels like having Manish back in my life. And I'm eternally grateful that the stream that I was blessed with felt cool and refreshing. I'm even more grateful that in that stream, there have been little droplets of days that were characterized by joyously random visits to each other's apartments.

    Today happens to be one of those randomly amazing visits. Two hours before this, Manish sent me a text with the magical word: coffee. He never forgot one of my absolute weaknesses, and I both applaud him and curse him. I applaud him because he always uplifts my mood with a cup of coffee, but he knows exactly what my weakness is. If he ever wants to lure me into a trap, he knows that coffee is all it takes.

    I half sprint, half walk to the apartment. As usual, my fingers pinch my key chain, as the little jingles from my keys ring through the air. I tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear and scratch my nose, as the wind blew a strand onto it and caused a slight itch.

It doesn't take long for me to find the familiar apartment in which I've consumed endless cups of coffee and talked with Manish for what seems like centuries. With excitement bursting inside of me like a bunch of firecrackers on Diwali, I knock on the door. One hand, bunched into a fist, raps on the door, while the other attempts to pull off my shoe. I try to do so without tripping and falling flat onto my face, as I hear little footsteps inch towards the door.

Eventually, the door swings open, and Manish is standing right there to greet me with his infectiously warm smile and optimism. I can tell that he's embedded in a deep conversation with someone extremely close to him, due to the glow that tinges his cheeks and the laugh that is embedded in his throat when he opens the door. The glow that is so faintly present on his cheeks intensifies when he sees me, along with the smile that is gently stretching out on his lips.

"Hey, come in, Jaya!" he greets enthusiastically, as he steps aside to let me in.

I give him a slight smile, and as I inch inside the apartment, I hear a familiar female voice squeal, "Jaya is here?!"

My eyes dart towards the source of my voice, and my jaw drops in slight surprise.

Standing right there is Sandhya Aunty, Manish's mom, who also happens to be one of my favorite people to walk this earth. When my eyes gain sight of her, there's only one thought that crosses my mind: Holy shit, she has barely aged.

Her olive skin is still glowing and fresh, with barely any wrinkles etched in it. Her warm smile and twinkling eyes, which Manish inherited, haven't lost one ounce of their shine. The only difference that I notice are a few gray hairs embedded in her ravenous mane.

When she sees me, her face erupts in a mixture of shock and euphoria. "Jaya, look at you! It's so good to see you!" she squeals, as she bolts towards me for a hug. I don't hesitate for one second, as I throw my arms around her. She wraps her arms around me and the sheer pressure at which she squeezes is enough to crush my lungs to dust. She may be small, but she does pack a huge punch.

Thankfully, she doesn't suffocate me for too long before she lets go and squeals at me a little bit more. "Manish told me you had become even more beautiful, but he didn't tell me that you were this gorgeous!"

Manish's eyes widen with shock, as a tinge of embarrassment glows on his cheeks. "Ma!" he complains, as he gently places a hand on her shoulder to stop her from annihilating his character in front of me. A warm, fuzzy feeling spreads at my chest for a number of reasons. One being how good it is to see Sandhya Aunty again, but two for knowing that Manish thought I had become more beautiful.