The Woman My Grandmother Loved.

Chapter Six

"He tried not to look long at her as if she were the sun, yet he saw her as the sun even without looking."

Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karena.

White hydrangeas in hand, Anita walked over to Becky's residence. Usha had raised her eyebrows questioningly at the flowers and Anita had said that they were for Becky to paint. By now, Usha had gotten over her anxiousness of Anita's comings and goings and was pleased that Anita was able to walk on her own. Anita's mother had stopped haranguing both of them and Usha had returned back to her usual absent-minded self. And by and by Anita had found out about her brother's fragmented marriage. Usha had visitors and 'a friend' over; often retiring to her chambers. And her brother dallied in London just as his wife did in Cornwall. It had surprised her but she had had the delicacy to know that it wasn't her problem to solve. This wasn't her parents who were cheating; she needed to distance herself from their problem. And besides, she had a lot going on in her own life as well.

Anita had white hydrangeas with her for two reasons:

1)She had been thinking of Becky.

2)She hoped that Becky had been thinking of her just as much as she had been.

While the second reason wasn't so much of a reason as it was a hope, it hadn't stopped Anita from buying flowers and telling Usha that she would be spending the weekend at Becky's. She hadn't of course asked Becky and she had simply assumed it. Ever since last Saturday, she had met Becky almost every day and yet it felt as though she hadn't seen enough of her.

In her defense, Becky did come home late but she was never too exhausted for Anita. Even when she had a tiring day with the girls, her face would light up as she saw Anita; making Anita feel a bit reassured. She wasn't the only one going crazy and feeling impulsive- whatever she felt for Becky, the other girl felt for her as well.

After their almost-kiss the previous Saturday, Becky hadn't done anything of that sort and Anita almost wished she had. That way, she didn't have to feel the pressure to be the one to initiate the conversation, to let Becky know that she was not a maybe anymore. That perhaps she had never been. But now Becky seemed more determined than ever to let Anita come to her own conclusion, her flirting reduced greatly, not wanting to impose a decision on her.

So, Anita had decided, there would be no maybes anymore. Only white hydrangeas.

It was late and the sun had almost set, only the gentle tangerine glow illuminating the horizon. She knocked on the door, the wood resounding with each thud.

Becky hated the way excitement shot up and her stomach started fluttering nervously. She hated the way all she had been thinking of the past week was the cool feel of Anita's hand pressed against hers last Saturday. She remembers how her breath had hitched and she tried not to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the emotion when she had drawn Anita close to her; almost daring to press her lips against hers and seal the distance between them. She had almost done it and when Anita had leaned in, she knew that she had wanted it as much as Becky did. But she had pulled away; knowing that this wouldn't do. That she would have to let Anita fight away the confusion she felt on her own, she didn't want to start anything when Anita wasn't ready. Though as far as Becky was concerned, it had started a long time ago.

When she opened the door, Anita had stood on the other end of it dressed in warm clothes, an odd-looking bouquet of white hydrangeas in her hand. That had to mean something, didn't it? Girls didn't just buy flowers for their girlfriends, did they?

"These are for you." Anita had muttered suddenly shy and thrusting the bouquet almost as if wanted to get rid of it. Like she didn't know why she had bought it. And the thought of knowing scared her.