At His Mercy

Untitled Part 10

I am sitting in a quaint little cafe somewhere in the suburbs. It's intimate, rampant with greenery, ivy climbing up wooden trellis's and impressive garden walls. Beautiful linen, lacy intricate platinum painted china graces the table and the dainty finger food all speak of exclusivity. I learn this is Zara's favourite cafe, but she isn't with us this afternoon. I'm not sure whether its me that's put her off or her mother's friends. instead I am sitting with Ami Ji and closest confidants. Apparently, I have given her an opportunity to get together with her friends. Initially I had been happy that I would be leaving the house and having some time with Adam's mum, even if it was temporary, it didn't mean I couldn't get along with her and make her happy. If my mother had been alive today I would have wanted someone to show the same appreciation and consideration to her, should the need ever have arisen.

Deep down I know I'm an only child and now an orphan, so this wouldn't ever have happened. but it doesn't stop me from thinking this way.

I know they're going to ask me all the things that most people would ask. how we met, how we got married, why I never returned to Pakistan with Adam. I'm pretty sure I'll probably be asked about children and our plans for the future. All the things that Adam and I should have discussed and haven't. I'm going to just have to stick to the truth as much as possible. I don't know what Adam has told his mum, but if I lie then I'm travelling down a very slippery slope.

the thought of Adam makes me feel sick, the scene from this morning keeps replaying in my head and I just know I'm in serious danger. not the violent kind, danger of forgetting why I'm here. 'I didn't know how to make you come' he had said. my heart had ached. It had actually ached. I know it sounds like a cliche but the truth was when he left the only thought that seemed to echo through my own head was 'I didn't know how to make you stay!' perhaps we are more similar than we think.

The vulnerability that he feels, is going to very soon be masked by resentment. I know it because I feel it too. it is the safer option. Neither of us want to face the truth, which is that we didn't fight for our relationship. We didn't. We chose to assume the worst of each other and now our relationship is damaged beyond repair.

I don't even think about the kiss. I can't. I don't want to go down that road. Does it change anything? Ofcourse we're going to sleep together at some point. I know that, because however we feel about each other, there is an undeniable chemistry there. its always been like that. . . . .

5 years ago. . .

Its been a month since we got married. we've been out everyday. He waits for me outside the Stopford building. He has my timetable and I have his. We usually go for lunch or for a walk around the park when we have any free periods. I've been to his apartment on atleast 5-6 occasions but never stayed long enough for something to happen. We have decided to get to know each other first. We spend a lot of time holding hands and talking, laughing and studying together. I usually have to get home for 6pm for my mother. I can relieve the day carer and take over for the rest of the evening.
I can feel things changing between us.  Yesterday we were in the library, looking for a book, when he pulled me against one of the shelves and kissed me, What began like playful mischief suddenly escalated. The heat and desire that had been simmering between us over the last couple of weeks was ready to combust. His fingers which had lingered on me before, now felt possessive as they slip under my sweatshirt around my waist and up my back gripping me with desperate longing. Digging into my skin. He angled his head and kissed me again, his lips demanding far more.  Deeper, he slipped his tongue into my mouth and explored with more intensity. With one swift motion, he moved me against the wall and pinned me there, moving one hand under my neck to tilt my head back and used the other to grip my hips, grinding his erection into me. I had gasped, felt the heat pooling between my legs as I'd pushed back, wanting more. Needing more. Somewhere in the fuzz of my mind, i registered his growl of frustration as he broke off the kiss. Slowly, he had pulled back just far enough to look into my disorientated eyes and then held my gaze as it refocused on him. There was fire in them.
"Tomorrow." He promised.

Thursday was my favourite day. I have 1 lecture in the morning which frees me up for the rest of the day. Adam's usually done by 11am so we go for a movie, walk, or to one of the many museums in the area; anything that is more or less close by. But i had had a sleepless night. Unsettling thoughts, fiery imaginings, sizzling expectations had burned throughout the night. And the same reoccurring thoughts:
He wanted me. Wanted more. But the thought didnt scare me anymore.

I laced my fingers into his as he approached. He smiled and then raised one of my hands to kiss the inside of my wrist. The look he gave me, burned me up inside.

We didn't talk as we walked to his apartment, down Oxford Road toward Fallowfield. Later he told me he was giving me a chance to change my mind, should I have wanted to. I didn't.

I remember his silhouette against the light as he went to close the curtains. he wasn't confident, cocky, excited or rushing to start. When he pulled them shut, I just knew it was going to be the two of us. The world outside was gone. in this moment we were going to be together. Just the two of us in the whole wide world. . . .

Present day . . .
'Aya is a doctor!' Ami Ji announces proudly. I wonder if this is the reason Adam has given his mother for my absence. I nod humbly. "not only is she beautiful, but also very clever!'

All the women smile and nod in understanding. I get some knowing looks from some of the women, which I'm not sure about, but I keep my face neutral and polite.

Ami Ji goes on to explain that my mother died recently. 'cancer,' I state not quite prepared for the lump that forms in my throat. 'My dad died when I was 5, so we were always together.' I feel the tears creep up on me as I think about her. There is a silence in the group as the women contemplate what I've told them.

'Aya stayed to complete her studies and look after her mother, she doesn't have any bothers or sisters, so she was the only child' Amy Ji says and sighs and then places her hand on my arm. I don't know why this makes me even more emotional but it does, I blink back tears. 'Not all children get to repay their mothers in this way' she says and I see a tear slide down her cheek. I'm fighting back my own tears. The thought of my mother suddenly hits me again, after all these months of being practical, I suddenly realise again that she's gone. I wipe a tear away with the back of my thumb, when someone to the right passes me a napkin.

'It was on and off for 10 years' I say when someone at the table asks more.

They don't ask me anything about Adam, its almost like they seem to have all their questions answered and the topic slowly moves onto something else. I half listen, but the thought of my mother has opened a wound, and my heart is aching again.

I haven't really cried since the actual day she died. Not even at the funeral. Her suffering had been so extreme at the end, she had been on regular doses of morphene. I had been ready to let her go, knowing that the induced comma couldn't last forever. When everyone left, I went upstairs and sat on her bed.
Alone again.
I feel that now. I remember the emptiness. There was always something to do when mum was sick. I remember her trying to smile, grey lips stretched tight under gaunt cheeks, her skeletal arms stiff as she reached out to touch my face with immense effort. The light had gone from her eyes.

I hate self pity. But right then and there I think I am destined to be left by everyone I love.
And it hurts.