At His Mercy

31-Adam

5 years ago. . .

She's sitting on the fartherest table,  half hidden in the middle of a fort of books towering around her; Kumar and Clark is open, Davidson to the other side if her. Gosling anatomy atlas, Langman to the left.
'Ferguson is going to have a field day!' She says. Slumping face down into Gosling's physiology.
I place my hands on her shoulders and massage them, kissing her on top of her head before sliding into the seat beside her. 'You know more than you think' I sigh and stroke her hair.
'If you continue to do that, I'll be asleep within seconds!' She mumbles, face still buried in the pages. 

I smile.  'It's not you, its this ugly purple carpet!' she turn to look up at me, head still resting on the open pages and smiles 'It's gonna be ok,' I say 'Trust me.  Tell me what what I can do to  help. . . . . . .'

I listen to the sound of her steady breathing as she sleeps and wonder what will happen next. It's true we've become much more amicable, but that means nothing.  She refused to put our relationship  first last time, there's nothing to say she won't do it again.  I could never have ever imagined she would stay.  even now, there were never any signs that she wasn't happy. everything I did, I did for her.  how many times did we sit in that horrible library with those ugly purple seats?

I  look at her lying in our bed, hair fanned out against the pillow. a raven crown of curls. Perhaps she is a loner. Destined to do it all on her own. Why else sabotage an opportunity to be part of a family?
When we're together the pain and sadness sits under the surface, I can see it colour everything. The past isn't gone, it's here. Everyday it lives with us and taints everything we do, say and see.
There are moments when she forgets. Like last night, when I was talking, she seemed to be listening. Not from a distance -like it usually feels, detached and wary. But involved and interested. Moments like that, feel like we're migrating back to each other.
For the last two weeks I've been fighting this niggling thought which tells me nothing will change her mind.  she isn't going to  suddenly wake up and realise she wants to be with me or that we need to give our relationship a second chance. 

last night, I looked into those chocolate orbs and thought for a moment I had found her. even though I've been trying to convince myself that we're grown ups and this is nothing more than good sex.  Its only good because of the animosity between us, I know now that I've just been deceiving myself.  Deluded.

What was once between us is still there, but it was never meant to last.  Maybe it never was about me.  its always been her issues and her perspective, her problems, her challenges. keeping her locked up here is never going to change anything. if in some misbegotten way I'm expecting her to suddenly realise that we are worth saving then I'm more crazy than she is.  I need to take each day as it comes and if by some miracle anything other than the most probable outcome occurs then I will thank god till the day I die. 

I get up and walk across to the dressing table.  open up my laptop and begin to work.  It's been a long night and nothing but work is going to get me through the rest of it.  

there are atleast a dozen emails that require immediate attention, including one from the contractors for the neonatal hospital. I tut, problems, problems. Maybe I should hire someone to take care of all the problems. I snort at the thought.  Typical.  The more you problem solve the more problems come up.

then I see something that makes me stop mid-typing.  there is a pop up at the corner of my screen. Its my lawyer, the subject is: divorce petition/ divorce Nisi. I have just under 3 days to reply to the letter otherwise it looks like the Shaira council will proceed with an automatic divorce.  there are questions about Khula, Naskh, Talak-e-tafwid, Mubarat. The list goes on. I have to look up most of these because I can't be sure really what they mean. I feel myself getting more and more agitated, I shut the laptop and turn to face the cause of all this irritation.  

She is a sight for sore eyes.   what an unprecedented situation. here I am reading about divorce and she's lying naked in my bed.  the cotton sheets sitting just below her waist as she lies on her front.  she has a perfectly tiny waist, and one silken leg emerged from the beneath the bed covers. I try to ignore the anxiety that is gripping me inside and focus on what is in front of me.  she might not be mine very soon, but she's mine now and I'd be a fool to ignore that.  

I slide into bed and kiss her shoulder, grazing the baby soft skin there.  she smiles and turns over, to look at me through half sleepy eyes. she opens one and squints at me. 'what time is it?' she whispers in a low voice, putting her hand on my cheek. 

'It's not long till morning' I whisper back 'lets not waste a second. . .'