Vows of Misfortune

27.

When Tamara aunty went to the toilet after dinner, Jose uncle addressed both Romir and me about where his mind was at.

"I told Tamara that I am willing to try again with her. By the end of this month, I might be going back."

I didn't know what to say. I looked at Romir. He kissed his teeth. "Jose u—"

"You know how much I have wanted this. How long I have wanted to see my wife. I don't wish to be a burden on you anymore, Romir."

"Not once have I thought you were a burden to me," said Romir.

"But I feel like a burden. You're married now, and you have your own life. When you go back to England, I can't really expect you to take me with you and carry me around every day." He shook his head, firm. "No, I won't let that happen."

"If you're only leaving with Tamara aunty because you feel like you're a burden then is that really a good enough reason?" I asked.

"That is only a small reason. The major reason is that I still love that woman despite everything."

Romir rubbed his stubble with a frown and I sat there like a statue. What else could I say to that?

That night was a very silent one. I stared up at the ceiling. I was wide awake, thinking of Jose uncle. If he left, would life ever be the same? If I was being honest with myself, the only reason I was holding onto some sort of sanity, was because of Jose uncle. I wouldn't have anyone to speak to or watch horror movies with if he left.

Seeing Varun and Anjali and Claudia be happy and not having him around as a pillar of support would be devastating. And Romir and I both knew that the only reason we were now platonic was because of him and because of what happened; if he left, there was no one to show for it.

But if he left he would be happy.

That lump in my throat from before made its way back and situated itself tightly, slowly crushing my chest.

Romir and I sighed at the same time; apparently, he was wide awake on the other side of the barrier, too. I had to be strong for Jose uncle, at least. That was what he wanted and I was going to respect it, no matter how much it hurt me.

I was about to close my eyes, ready to call it a night when there was movement from beside me. I didn't move. I didn't speak. From the corner of my eyes, I watched as Romir sat up, let out a huge grumbly sigh, and then pushed himself off the bed. He strapped on his prosthetic and then left through the door. 

A part of me hesitated in following him. He was probably torn between it just as much as I was, but the doubts and the hurt would be ten times stronger for him than it was for me.

Losing his uncle who'd been raising him would be horrible. It seemed like he was the only person Romir had left in his family worth caring about. Should I try and comfort him? He'd been trying to talk to me, after all.

Should you? He's been pretty awful to you. But he's also been semi-amiable now. Ignoring him when he was in pain would not only make me a terrible person but also someone going way lower than he ever had been.

I pushed the blanket off me and pushed myself up off the bed before I could stop myself. I opened the door, my bare feet pitter-pattering against the cold tiles. The apartment was dead black, and I had to stand there for a few seconds to let my vision adjust.

There was a fluttering to the side which told me the wind had gotten inside; the curtains for the balcony were being pushed like a cape in the wind. I looked through the glass and saw that Romir was standing outside, leaning against the balcony railing.