The Woman My Grandmother Loved.

Chapter Four

"Everything is beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."
Homer, The Iliad.

Thursday rolls around very late and it makes Anita extremely impatient. She limped across the house making her sister-in-law Usha very frustrated with her as she caused things to fall over and then would limp on; unable to pick them up.

"You should sit down, Anita. Don't over-exert your legs." She says, eyeing the precious crystal cat mantelpiece that Anita was precariously close to knocking over.

"I don't feel like sitting down. I feel so impatient." Anita sighs.

"Do you think it's a good idea? To go for a picnic? Don't get me wrong, Anita. I'm just very worried about your legs and whether climbing the steep slopes might be such a good idea for you." Usha says, frowning.

"Don't be so dramatic. It's a hill, not a cliffside for God's sake. And the fresh air will do me better than sitting around in the house all day has." Anita says, brusquely.

"Well, if you insist that's a good idea. What time will you be back by anyway?" Usha asks.

"For the thousandth time, probably late in the evening and it's just Tuesday today. Can you stop asking me that?" Anita says, exasperated.

"I cannot help it! Your mother has given me so many directions to look after you that I half think she considers you to be a newborn." Usha huffs.

"Well, in case you were lacking in vision, I am evidently not a newborn," Anita says, sarcastically and silently cursing her mother.

"Yes. But you are very impulsive like children who dive headfirst into ponds without thinking twice." Usha replies.

"I am not!" Anita tries to defend herself but Usha raises an eyebrow making her laugh and she says, "Well, you might be right about that one."

"You know I am. Just promise that you will not be doing anything like that." Usha says seriously causing Anita to roll her eyes at her over-protectiveness.

"I mean it," Usha says when Anita refuses to respond. "Just stay around that friend of yours; she seems like a nice girl. And promise me you will not be drinking anything."

"It's a children's picnic, for God's sake!" Anita bursts out. "You are absolutely maddening! I can see what psychologists mean when they say that children marry their parents. My brother has married his mother, stepmother rather. You are more like my mother than I could ever dream of being."

With the outburst, Anita heads towards her room and shuts the door as she grumbles about the lack of peace in the household. Grabbing Tolstoy, she tries to read but not even Tolstoy is enough to keep her thoughts from wandering. When she thinks about Becky, she gets this indescribable feeling which makes her rather troubled. This isn't right, she's been telling herself multiple times; especially since the last meeting. But her mind goes back to when Becky called her beautiful, replaying the scene over and over in her head making her desperate to see Becky. She wanted to know what Becky meant by that; did she simply mean it as women do when they call each other beautiful? As a shallow comment, a nod of appreciation at the new hairstyle being flaunted?

Or did Becky mean it as something deeper, something more sincere and heartfelt? More than just admiration and approval. Could you even call somebody beautiful and mean more than what the word meant? She didn't know but she desperately found herself hoping that Becky had meant more. Whatever the more could be, Anita refused to think about it for now.

She needed to see Becky.

When Thursday eventually rolled around, Anita found herself slowing down on purpose. The excitement she had felt, fading to give way to nervousness that made her feel unlike herself. Dressed in a pretty violet wrap dress that went all the way to her knees with only the bare hint of lipstick on an otherwise clean face, her hair pulled back; she was ready to go.