Aya is in Pakistan, to demand a divorce from her estranged husband Adam. 5 years ago, University of Manchester, in a whirl wind romance he promised her the universe and of course he could have given it to her being the heir to the family fortune...
She's curled up in bed when I walk in. There's a towering pile if books on the floor and one sitting precariously close to the edge of the bedside table. The curtains are closed and as my eyes adjust to the relatively low light in the room, I move closer to her.
her hair is fanned out beside her on the pillow, her chin is tucked into her chest. The sound of her rhythmic breathing- Oh God- it is the sound I missed the most, when I first arrived back home.
I kneel down beside the bed to brush a strand of auburn hair from her cheek. Even now, I can't help but just admire those full lips, sculptured cheek bones and that sharp chin. The golden sheen on her forehead from the heat. Its right up there with the pollack. I could sit here and watch her forever. This apricity has grown, unexpectedly. How many times in those 5 long years, did I lay in bed desperately wishing to be able to touch her face like I'm doing right now. How many times did I wish for her nearness, beg god for one more chance, just one. . .
Here she is in my bed, in my home, with me and all I've done all day is think about how much I want to make her pay. maybe I don't deserve this, here she is like a gift from God himself and I am too consumed with my own fears to recognize- let alone appreciate- the blessing that is in front of me.
The best punishment isn't to make her hate everyday she is here. the best punishment would be to make her love every minute and then make it hard for her to leave. The thought hits me like a brick. Of course I'm handling this all wrong.
Every moment I try to punish her, I end up suffering more myself. the guilty conscience is something that I don't think Im going to be able to get rid of. No matter how many times I try to convince myself that I hate her, the truth is I hate myself for the way I still feel about her.
I need to remind her what it was like between us and how good it actually was, then maybe she will hate leaving, or we will part amicably. At the moment it is so volatile between us, I can't really see how this situation is going to be sustainable. Even the sexual encounters between us have generated enough energy to make them addictive.
With my mother now noticing something is very wrong between us, its making the situation unpredictable and unstable. It sounds like Ami-ji was genuinely concerned and scared for Aya. Despite my insistence to find out what had been said or what had happened, It seems Aya said nothing. Its easy to believe. Aya is stoic, she always was and always will be. she isn't the self pitying sort, she will grin and bear the burden of whatever is happening rather than divulge the truth of the pressure she is feeling to anyone.
Even now, I cannot accept that she didn't know what was going to happen when she came back to ask for a divorce. The truth is, when I think about her, I remember the Aya I knew. The fighter. The confident veneer that hid the vulnerability and frailty of her situation so easily.
I could continue with my plan and God knows it wouldnt be a hardship on my part. But I'm only fooling myself If I let myself believe that my actions are motivated from revenge alone.
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6 years ago. . We're just lying in bed holding hands. She puts her palm against mine and laughs at the difference. Her skin is smooth where mine is rough. light where mine is dark from being out in the sun. small and nimble hands, where mine are sinuous. In the sunlight i can enjoy the glow on her skin, the flush in her cheeks and the swollen plumpness of her lips. I could lay here with her forever and forget everything.
She leans over and picks up her text book from the floor. 'Come on!' She protests, 'you promised!'
I think about that moment and it makes me smile. Even at that time, I remember laying in bed at night in wonder thinking about how blessed I was. Had I imagined even for a moment it could have been that good between us? No, never.
I lean over and kiss her head, coconut. Deep, earthy and sweet.
'Adam' she whispers, her eyes flickering open. 'you're home!' she holds my hand as I'm pulling it back to my side. In the darkness her eyes are glossy black and I turn my head away. unsure what I'm feeling about her. She sighs and tugs on my hand so that I can't help but turn back to her. 'Hold me' she whispers. So I do. I slide into bed next to her and slip one of my arms under her neck and the other around her waist. tucking my head into her shoulder. All I can think is 'Thank God!'
