At His Mercy

Untitled Part 11

Ami Ji holds my hand all the way home. I don't know what she thinks but I'm so glad Adam was not there to witnessed it. No doubt he would have thought I was trying to manipulate him.

There's no sign of Adam for the rest of the day. I spend it inside with Ami Ji, she decides to take out her family albums and show me some of her own family history. The pictures of Adam are lovely. even as a boy he looks serious, in his shorts and button up shirt, always holding a toy car. then he is older , gangly. I can't help but laugh. thinking already about how I will tease him. but then I remember this morning and I know that we don't have that kind of relationship any more. I'm fascinated because I've only ever seen Adam as toned and tall. I laugh at some of his awkward teenager pictures as Ami ji recounts all the funny anecdotes that go with each picture. Some of the stories don't surprise me. Adam has always been raised as the heir to the family business. always been groomed to step into his father's shoes. He was always meant to come back- I realise.

Ami ji is proud of her family and goes through all her family tree, including her sisters, nephews, nieces, grandchildren from those nieces and nephews. I can't bear to hear the hope in her voice. she wants to have her own grandchildren one day.

'zayadah dair nai legahni cha hiya. . .' she says knowingly 'you shouldn't take too long in these matters,' Ami ji is talking about children again. of course she's right. perhaps when I leave, she can find Adam a wife that will give him lots of children. I'm pretty sure Adam can't even stand to look at me, let alone consider a future with me. all I seem to remind him of is how I chose my life in England over him.

'Dheko, jo be hai, saab kooch teek ho jai gah' she says 'whatever it is, everything will be fine' says Ami ji noticing the concern on my face and she takes my hand in her own, pats it reassuringly. How can I explain to her that I wish her words were true? Adam and I are fractured. Possibly beyond repair. Reconciling our differences is neigh on impossible. This morning's incident seems to be fast confirming my suspicions that our relationship is too volatile to sustain.
And yet, I know there is something there. Something between us that needs to be resolved even if it means it ends with us separating, Because it actually meant something and we need to honour that. I think of us 5 years ago and I feel the tension creeping up my back and in between my shoulders.

5 years ago. . .

Our hands meet, fingers lace together. Gone is the mischief and playful flirting. I look at our finger entwined and love the way we fit together. He looks so serious, his gaze is intense. Shirtless, he is magnificent. Toned to perfection. Stomach ripped under my fingers.
I look up at him 'wow' trying to relieve some of the tension. He ignores my nervous laugh and opens the buttons of my shirt one by one. .

Present day

I look at myself in the mirror hanging above the mantle. My cheeks are flushed just thinking about it now. I am sat in this strange house, strange people in this strange situation. But it doesn't feel so bizarre. The house is beautiful and I could spend everyday for the next 10 years wondering at it's beauty, his mum is so warm and welcoming- I know- I don't deserve it. Even this situation, despite how messed up it is, has hope. Perhaps when we part in 3 months I won't have these niggling doubts about my own decisions. I can make things right before I go.

I'm going to show Adam that I can be the perfect daughter in law, whether he recognises it not. Then, one day, when I'm gone, he won't think of me with bitter resentment.
I begin by asking asking Ami ji about her husband. He passed away 4 years ago from a heart attack. I listen with respectful interest asking questions about him. It turns out Adam is his father's son in more ways that expected. It's where his sharp features come from. That jaw line and straight nose. No one really expects him to be as serious as he is, he jokes and laughs, but deep down he has always been a thinker, she tells me. More recently he seems to have become more and more solemn,  there is a hint of regret in her voice. He's good at looking after his family. He will always put them first she continues; I believe her, more than she thinks.
He had to leave. He didn't really have a choice.
I contemplate everything she's told me. Musing over the details as I walk through the back garden. Settling in the gazebo, which is tucked away in at the trees. The groove on his back from when he fell off the mezzanine, the click in his knee from a bike accident when they were on holiday, even the scar on his jaw from a slip on the marble in the main hall. It seems Adam is full of scars, wearing them like battle wounds, proudly.

I think about the new ones on his hand. Will he look at them and blame me?