I'mperfect

1

I stand in front of the huge white building I once called home. I got the news of my mother's demise around two weeks ago and I am still unsure if I should be visiting her house, or is it mine now, as there is no one else in the family to claim it.

It's been almost eight years since I was here last. The white walls of the house, though a little chipped now, are still standing strong unlike the people who once resided in it and the adjoining garden to the left is still lush green but the taller than ever grass and the dust lining the multitude of pots along the rusted fence shows that it has been unattended for a while now as if it's owner didn't care anymore; more like she couldn't. I wonder how long she suffered from this disease before it finally claimed her. Was she alone the whole time? I hope not.

I shake the guilt that came with the thought away and take the couple of steps that lead to the front door. Aditi should still be here, considering the last of the rituals ended yesterday only.

I hadn't attended any of them, not because I didn't want to but rather because I didn't know if she would want me to. My relationship with my mother, to say the least, was complicated. I hadn't had a decent conversation with her since after my father left us when I was seven. There were always arguments and disagreements between us and lately, there were none of that either but any of that didn't make it any easier when I heard she was no more. The news had hit me like a blow, shaking the ground beneath me. It didn't matter that we never saw eye to eye with each other, she was still my mother. But, she isn't the reason why I am here today.

I take a deep breath, trying to control the slight shaking of my hands as I raise them to knock on the door and it's not even a minute later that it opens and I'm being pulled into a hug. It's as if she knew I'd be here even when I told her I wouldn't. But of course, she knows me too well to believe I wouldn't come after the number of times she's called to convince me. And it was impossible for me to disappoint her after last night. Hearing her sob like that over the call had been the last thing I wanted. It is as much a loss for her as it is for me, if not more.

She pulls away, looking at me with tear-laden eyes. "You came." It wasn't a question and she doesn't seem to need any other assurance as she once again wraps me in her arms. Her light sobs fill the silence of the hot June evening, where even the birds won't come out to chirp, as soon as her head hits my shoulder. I hold her tight against me, her sobs wounding me like nothing else ever did.

Aditi is one of the two most important people in my life. We grew up together in this very neighbourhood. She lived next door with her maasi, who had taken her in at the age of three after her parents died in a car accident. We had been friends ever since and being a year and a half older to me, she's like the elder sister I never had.

I pull away from her, holding her at arm's length as I take her in, my eyes falling to her lower belly. "You're starting to show."

Her eyes follow my gaze as I rest my hand against the little bump but she doesn't say anything, maybe because I didn't acknowledge my mom's death first but nevermind.

She rests her hand over mine on her belly, giving it a light squeeze but I refuse to concede to the sadness looming around. "Let's go inside." I take her hand, stepping inside to make my way to the living area.

The front door opens to the first floor and as we walk through the balcony to the staircase on the right, I can't help but see how this house has not changed at all. My eyes loom around every pit and corner of it, feeling as if I've travelled eight years back in time and I'm still that twenty-year-old rebellious girl who used to make her mother's life hell.

I sigh, shaking my head at the memories that bombard my mind with every step I take into the house until I stop. My eyes fall upon the empty aquarium, sitting on a corner table at the landing of the stairs.

Aditi comes to stop beside me, following my gaze before I feel her hand squeezing my shoulder. "She has kept it all as it was, Sam. Nothing has changed here."

On my seventh birthday, I had asked my father for a dog but he'd gotten me a goldfish instead saying he'd get me a dog only if I can take care of the fish first. I was quick to agree to the deal but unfortunately for me, Goldie-I was seven, sue me-died only a few days later. I had hoped he'd get me another fish but apparently, he never took notice of it and not a month later, he left us. I'd kept that aquarium as it was the last gift he gave me, though I never dared getting a fish again.

I gulp down the knot of emotions forming in my throat, threatening to betray me as I look at her once before directing my eyes back to the empty glass box. "Yeah, things never left this house, only people did."

I cage the feelings of loss and anger bubbling inside me and start descending the stairs with Aditi following behind, with a silence we never expected falling between us.

She had been closer to my mother than I ever was. She was the daughter my mother always wanted, one I could never be. But I don't detest her for that, not one bit. In fact, I'm thankful that she was there for my mother when I wasn't. I'll always be grateful to her for all she's done for me and my mother.

And I can understand what she must be going through right now. First, she lost her parents, then her maasi and now the woman who was like a second mother to her. She must be devastated but it's not good for her or for the baby if she takes a lot of stress which is why I stop as soon as we reach the bottom of the stairs and turn to her, noticing how miserable she really looks. She even seems to have lost some weight since I last saw her, not a good sign.

"When was the last time you ate?"

She looks up at me, seeming confused by the sudden question. "I had some fruits in the morning. Why are you asking?"

I shake my head and sigh out loud, taking her hands in mine. "Aditi, I know what you're going through but this is not the way to handle it and you know it better than me. She's gone and you not taking care of yourself is not going to bring her back."

She casts her eyes downwards, looking at our joined hands before she pulls them back and places them on my shoulder instead, holding me in place as if afraid I might try to run away from what she has to say. She wasn't wrong there.

"Why are you being like this, Sam?" she asks, looking back at me with confusion lining her forehead, overpowering the hurt rimming her eyes. "She was your mother and you have every right to mourn, too. You think I don't know what you're doing? Keeping your emotions bottled up isn't healthy either, Sam."

I keep looking at her face, all scrunched up as if she is in pain. Maybe she is. I wouldn't know. I stopped feeling these emotions a long time back. Maybe this is what they call being emotionless but being all alone would do that to a person.

"Say something, Sameera."

A tear slips down her cheek at my lack of response, the plea in her eyes becoming all too much to take but the words won't support me. I am sorry for her, maybe for myself too but I don't know how to express it. I have nothing to offer her, nothing to console her, nothing to console myself.

I simply hold her hand once again and start moving into the house with her following silently, probably still crying but thankfully, I don't have to see the disappointment and hurt on her face as she follows me past the drawing room and dining area, into the kitchen. Upon reaching, I make her sit on one of the chairs around the small kitchen table to the right and start preparing her meal hoping that maybe, cooking will serve as a distraction for me as it has done several times in the past.

Only this time, it doesn't.