Always is not. Every day is.

chapter 16

RYLE POV:

17 –June-1995

So it is father's day again and here I am trouncing in my room. Oblivious of everything around me. So today is my twenty first father's day devoid of him. A father's day without a father. Sounds tongue-tied right? Or maybe riotous to most of you outta there but for me it is a reality. A veracity of my life. A sinister side of Ryle Kincaid's life. Like to all of you it did sound discomfited to me too but time heals everything. From your outer scars to your inner uncertainties. From your outer flaws to you inner blackness. It heals everything and so today a life without him is a reality. I don't know whether I am providential to experience those four striking years of my life with my dad or maybe I am inauspicious to grow up to this piece of evidence that I will never be able to feel the gentleness of his love again. Not able to call anybody my super hero again. I still remember when I was a kid back then, I watched a movie and my super hero died in that movie. The villain became the leading actor. I still remember that I cried the whole night. How can a villain be triumphant? I was very adolescent and so had my own beautiful advance to life. A world where super heroes are meant to prevail. Meant to stay perpetually. How can a movie squabble with my approach of life? My mind was very juvenile to go through all this unaided so I went to my mum and hugged her firm. My eyes were swelled up. This diminutive heart wasn't ready to see life in an altered way. And back then she comforted me and told me that the super heroes do depart this life but only in movies. They live for perpetuity in reality. Her words healed me. My heart suddenly found its shore. My approach of life wasn't erroneous. Super heroes are meant to guard us till eternity. Life was heading good but it isn't life if it is not iniquitous. Life at some point becomes unreasonable for everybody in some way or the other. Isn't this what makes it reasonable? So for me it became unmerited in the most throbbing way. In a way that insolvent me. That traumatized me. Maybe life knew that Ryle is very strapping. He will mend easily by all usual tests and that's why life played a game. A game in which you give up the ghost anyway. You mislay anyway. There is no technique out. No flee. Life tested me with that one thing that lay on the pinnacle most spot of my heart. My DAD. So at 2 my mom told me that super heroes don't breathe their last and at 4 I was broken up from him. I don't censure my mom for all this and I can't even do this no matter how much I yearn. Ever since he left ........oh maybe I am being fabricated right now because he didn't abscond us. My mom left him. So I was saying that ever since I became the artefact of a conked out marriage, My mom tried her best to pledge that I am provided with everything. From the finest clothes to the zenith most university. I was given everything. She tried superlatively to love me like a mother and a father both and I can't thank her enough for all this but still I have veteran an incomplete life without him.I have experienced what it feels like to be a product of a kaput marriage.I still remember when we moved from California to Sen. Diego ,Even in this artistic country I felt vacant. I used to cry all night in his memory. You see if he would have died I would have somehow accepted this fact. I would have somehow tranquil my conked out heart but what shatters it again and again is the fact that we both are breathing under the same sky, yet are very secluded ,very outlying from one another. My life suddenly became very scrawny. I don't know exactly what it was like for Mom to live without her first love. Even though it was her decision but I know she made it for the sake of my vivid future. So a mother won. She aforementioned her son's future instead of her first love. You see that's why I can never odium or blight her for her verdict even though I will never in my life accept her decision as judicious and realistic but still I revere her for all what she did for me. Or maybe she did it for herself because when there is no conviction and no candour in an affiliation, it isn't one. It is just an ambush then. Just a tag that binds two people together. I don't know whether I will be ever able to hate my father for all what he did to mom. Whenever I try hating him for all what he did to mom, those four beautiful years of my life blotch all this detestation. It all disappears in the intimate despondency of my heart. I know this for sure that even though he wasn't a good husband but he was the preeminent dad. But it's not like I don't have anything dire for him in my heart. Not in this life for sure I cant fail to remember that he's the rationale behind the fact that my mom doesn't trust people now. Not even her own son absolutely. He's the reason my mom congested painting because she thinks she can never paint now. She now thinks that even if she tries painting they will never be inventive again because it's all gone. Art was the reason they came closer so how can she be artistic when it's all over. All departed. All far-flung. All what she paints now is either black or grey. No matter how much she tries she is never able to add colours. Enigmatic Shades of reds, alluring blues, astounding yellows. Fascinating greens. Compelling oranges. No matter how much she tries but they never intermingle in and she ends up creating a black out. Entirely black and shadowy. Maybe so like her soul. So like her heart. Perhaps that's why she is always contented with those black canvases hanging all around her house because it reflects her. It reflects what happens when you trust. It reflects what happens when you lose your first love. It reflects what is feels like to be thrown from the paradise of love. It reflects the pockmark of a broken trust. It reflects deceitfulness. It reflects duplicity. It reflects wrecked promises. You steal a look inside this blackout and I am damn certain you'll find a hundred things this obscurity hides in. I don't know how much time she will take to forget all this because living with broken promises, deceitfulness and bust trust isn't easy. I sometimes wonder what if my father would have never cheated on my mom.What would it feel like to be with my dad right now. What would it feel like to gesture him at the end of a live performance and bestow me triumph to him. What would it feel like to see my mother painting like before? But I would have felt all this only if my father would have not cheated on my mom. Only if he would have valued the relationship and had remain sincere but he didn't. Not before marriage not after marriage. Neither before my birth nor after being a father, was he never ever sincere. And no matter how much I say that my mom left him deep down I know he was the reason behind. Who can live with somebody as fake as him? As untruthful and dishonest as this man that I used to call my dad. This person who's name still comes at the end of my name. After all what happened between my parents I know this thing for sure that I will never fall in love. Seeing their marriage broke out how can I expect mine to last? Considering the fact that how my artistic mother started hating arts because of just one person how will I even try and love somebody? What if she will be like dad and break my trust? Will I also lose my interest in music? The world already mislaid an artist like my mother and now a singer? No.....Falling in love will be the preceding thing Ryle will do. EVER. Every father's day, where sons give their fathers beautiful presents I always write something for him. Someday it was a grumble letter. Some day it is was cenotaph letter and one day it was just a blank paper with these words written...

I HATE YOU, YET I LOVE YOU DAD

I DON'T WANT YOU BACK YET I MISS YOU DAD..

But today it is neither a letter nor am I writing it for him. It just a diary page. I am just locking my feelings in my dairy so someday when I die and fans write my biography they don't forget mentioning this murky side of me. The dark side of a person who's loved my many, MAYBE, but still feels forlorn. If somebody ask me what is that one wish I will make right now. Without even giving a second thought, I'll say I want to meet my father once and know the story of their divorce from his elevation, his perception. I want to see what he has to say about what he did. I just want to see whether whatever mom told me is the reality or words flown out of loathing. So lemma just recall what mom told me. So after a few years of their divorce I gathered fortitude and asked her the reason and below is what she told me. Maybe the veracity or it's just one face of the story. I don't know.

Making the long story short she told me that she met dad in an art exhibition. They both fell in love. They started dating each other and made love before marriage. As a result my mother became pregnant and my father left her. She was completely kaput. But after a few months he returned and apologized. She had no other option so they both got married. After marriage my mom came to know that he was a big liar. He had lied about his job, his house, his family and what not. She also came to know that he married her because he needed a shelter and her money. This wasn't adequate from his side that there was one more innovation that he is having an affair and he's spending all my mother's money on that bitch. So she decided their relationship can't work out any longer and then this separation thing happened.

I have made it pretty short to make sure I don't get predisposed because I just know one phizog of the story and that's the one facade I have been told to deem on since a very young age.................

'Sir, we've arrived at the hotel are you okay', my driver was calling rather frenziedly.

It took my brain a few minutes to finally retort. I removed my fleeting look from my dairy and looked at my driver. We were already at the hotel. So this one hour of the journey I was reading this note I had written on this father's day. I quickly closed my diary and stepped out of the car. So far I don't know how many times in the same day now I have no words to describe how I am actually feeling. This girl's past took me to my past. Eccentric right? With my tangled mind I somehow managed to call Ridge.

'All set Ryle? He asked apprehensively over the call.

'Ridge can you do me a big errand? I asked.

"Oh buddy don't ask say what's up?" he replied

'I want you to find that girl's distinctiveness for me. The girl who gave me that painting. Please Ridge I know it isn't unproblematic but please I want to find her. Please Ridge, 'I was beseeching over the call.

'It isn't this easy Ryle and I am not promising but I will try for sure, 'He guaranteed in his own way.

I disconnected the call and with tousled mind fell on the sofa lying near me. Today was surely an arduous day for sure but what is more laborious is

ONE PLANET,

7.6 BILLION PEOPLE.

7.6 BILLION FACES AND 7.6 BILLION STORIES.

SURELY FINDING THAT ONE FACE AND THAT ONE STORY WON'T BE EASY...