And She Kissed a God

3. Spider

Sam, will you marry me?

Before dinner that was all I thought. I mulled over it for a day. "Sam, I want to marry you—How about marriage, Sam?—or the filmiest one: I want to live with you forever, Sam. Shall we get married?"

Then I fell into an abyss of reality. I had one question now. I wished it wouldn't sound so pragmatic and heartless but: "Who are you, Sam?"

We sat covered in blankets behind the sofa that she used to block us from those people, whoever they were. I felt trapped. I wanted us to settle in the bedroom, but Sam wasn't ready to give up movie night.

It was thundering outside. The deafening sounds accompanied by lightning raged as if they were breaking the sky.

Although I had no interest in the movie, I sat quietly. My brain bombarded with several unanswered questions. I could see Joey king dancing on the screen with her best friend and telling the rules of their friendship as the beginning credits ended.

I paused the movie. "What about the neighbours? Someone could have heard those sounds."

She turned to me. "Are you still on it?"

"My kitchen is full of bullets, Sam. Of course, I'm still on it."

She sighed. "I can't be sure. People might have heard them. Don't worry, we'll find another apartment."

"WHAT ABOUT THE BULLETS?"

"I know someone who'll take care of them. Don't spoil the movie night with doubts."

"I don't want to watch the movie," I yelled. I would've stormed away if not for that shooter lingering outside. Pulling my blanket to my side, I said, "This is not normal, Sam. Not to me."

"I'm sorry. I really am. I'll tell everything in the—"

The doorbell rang, and we exchanged a glance.

"Are you expecting someone?" I asked.

"On our anniversary night?" She scoffed at me. "No."

She threw her blanket into the air and rushed into the kitchen. A few breaths later, she returned with a knife.

"What's that for?" I whispered.

"What else for? To protect you."

I tiptoed, following her to the door and hid behind it. She put the knife behind her back and half-opened the door. We couldn't risk people looking into the bullet-filled house.

"Mr Aditya? There's a parcel for Mr Aditya."

I came out of her shadow and saw a courier guy. His face was barely visible out of his raincoat and the cap. Then he passed the package to me.

"It was late," I told him.

With shivering hands, he passed me a pad and a sheet of paper. "Sorry sir, the order got mixed. That's why the late-night delivery."

"It's okay." I signed his paper, and he left.

I peeped into the veranda for anyone skulking when Sam pulled me in and locked the door.

She heaved the parcel from my hands and cut it open with the knife, double the size of it. A tiny box fell out of the bubble wrap.

"It's a ring," she said, looking down at the box. I too looked down, and the knife reflected her smile.

"Yeah, I ordered it a week ago." I was stuttering. "I thought of proposing today."

She handed me the ring and then her hand. I hesitated. I used to have one thought when I imagined this situation. Will she accept me or not? However, things had changed. Now all I cared about was who she was.

Her hand lingered in the air for a minute. So did the ring in my hand. She was breathing fast, her eyes scanning my reactions.

"Aditya?" Her voice was timid and quivering.

I looked away. "I'm scared, Sam. I don't know what to do."

She took the hand back, composing herself. "It's okay. We will talk about it in the morning."

She walked to the sofa, slid the knife to the edge of the wall, and crashed on the floor, falling into herself like a touch-me-not-plant.

I followed her down, picked up the red blanket. "I'm sorry. I just . . ." The bunny ears covered her shoulders as I spread it around.

"We can talk about it in the morning," She said. "I just want to sleep."

She closed her eyes. I couldn't sleep; not after everything that had happened. So I let her sleep. I got an urge to comfort her; take her into my arms, but I felt inadequate. I was an insect trapped in a spider web and craving to comfort that spider in reverse. Well, who could blame the insect's sanity if it fell in love with the spider?

Who are you, Sam?

The situation shouldn't cross my hands. Technically, it already did. I crawled to the kitchen from beside the sofa. Poor Sam. Innocent Sam. Sexy Sam. Guilt filled my head. On the other hand, there was fear. Strange Sam. Immortal Sam? Mutant Sam? I looked into the room; perforated walls; the dining table chirped in the centre; dented fridge and smoke was coming from its back—lucky if it wouldn't blow overnight. It was real, the entire scene. I just had to double-check.

I crawled back to Sam, and she already slept, leaving me alive and trapped in my house. Behind my back, the sky roared again, perhaps in pain.

I have to ask her everything in the morning, I told myself.

After another boisterous thunder, I heard another thud. My heart raced, and I turned around. A pigeon was flying erratically outside my balcony. I stood on my knees, still afraid to stand up. Perhaps it was trying to get in.

The pigeon went back and then flew forward, hitting the glass wall again. I pitied but didn't have the courage to get up and help it. Then the bird took a curve to its left and jostled inside.

Flapping its wet wings, the pigeon settled at Sam's feet. Then it stared at me, its head jerking every other second. It'd have turned into a staring game, but I noticed a roll of paper tied to its leg.

"What have you got there birdy?" I said, approaching the pigeon. It sensed my movement and jumped a step back.

Sam was still sleeping. I took another step toward the bird and it didn't jump this time

Smiling, I extended my hand. The bird walked into my palm. Then it shivered, slowly fluttered its wings. I loosened the thread around its leg and the thin roll slipped into my palm. I put the pigeon back on the floor. What happened to send an email? I thought. The paper was drenched, and it took me forever to unfurl without tearing it up.

There was a Sanskrit phrase etched on it; the writing looked complex. I took Sanskrit in college, but it was decades ago.

After struggling for ten minutes, I took out my phone and decoded the phrase: They found you.

My mind screamed again.

Who are you, Sam?

***

Thanks for reading.