#21Days

Day 21

4.20 am

I feel someone stir near me. The warmth that enveloped my being as I slept has suddenly disappeared. Half asleep, I take my hand behind me where it comes in contact with the surface of the bed. Rohit isn't there. I will my eyes open and then shut them again. My body is protesting the lack of sleep. I shake my head and open my eyes again. My head hurts, much like hangover. Except, I haven't been drinking. Nevertheless, the cure is the same. Two pills of aspirin. I prop my head up, grab the blister pack from my bedside drawer and groggily make my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

The lights in the living room are on. Rohit is sitting on the couch, reading a book. Except he's not. The book is upside down. I've known Rohit for nearly three years now. Moments where I've seen him tense have been rare. Moments I've seen him out of control have been non-existent. Something's terribly wrong. I try and take a step towards him and my head begins to pound. I decide to first dose myself with the aspirin before making my way to the couch and propping myself right beside him.

An involuntary twitch of his finger holding the book upside down indicates he's aware of my presence beside him. And yet he doesn't acknowledge it. I place my hand on his thigh. He doesn't stir. I bring my other hand towards his book and gently take it out of his grasp; he's not holding it tight anyway. He doesn't protest my action. I carefully close it and place on the coffee table in front of us. I then take his hands into mine and will him to look me in the eye. I see unshed tears glistening, shattering the very depth of my soul.

"Rohit..."

His eyes beg me to stay quiet. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I resolve to stay strong and support him, whatever the situation may be.

I sense my resolve crumbling the moment I open my eyes.

I remember the first stirrings of a feeling I would eventually come to recognize as unease. It was an indication that the energy around me had changed, that there was something I needed to be wary of. The first time I felt that feeling, was when the day my father disappeared. There was a subtle change in the energy, when the clock struck 7 in the evening and he didn't make his way into the house through the front door. I'd dismissed it then. I'd felt the same thing two days before Mom had her accident, the day before I was taken out of school, and even the week before my mother passed away. I must have felt it many more times, but these are the ones that come to mind right now.

Sitting in front of Rohit, clasping his hands in mine, I recognize the same feeling building in the pit of my stomach. A part of me wants to stay quiet, just like Rohit wishes. Another part of me wants to know the bad news and be done with it. I vacillate between choosing to stay quiet and breaking my silence.

Old habits die hard. Finally, I decide to voice my concerns. I want to know. I somehow feel, I have a right to know.

"Rohit," I start again. This time he doesn't stop me. Instead, he brings my hands closer to his lips and kisses them. I free my hands from his grasp and clasp his face.

"What's wrong?"

A part of me is certain he won't respond. Hasn't he always internalized his worries and fears? Another part of me chides me. What he chooses to do is up to him. What I need to focus on is being there for him during his difficult moments.

I look into his eyes once more. A lone tear escapes the entrapment and gently spills onto his cheek. I gasp. I never imagined I would see him cry.

"What happened?" I whisper. "Please tell me. Please." I hug him, begging him to share his worry.

"Ma." One word. A whisper. And yet I know that our worst fears have come true.

"When did the reports arrive?"

"Twenty minutes ago."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" I bite my tongue as soon as the words escape my mouth. This isn't the time to pick bones.

"What next?"

"I don't know."

I look into his eyes once more. And I see him losing his battle to stay sane and take rational decisions. I decide to step in.

"What are her symptoms?"

"Nothing."

"No cold, cough or fever?"

"None."

"She's asymptomatic?"

He raises his eyebrow, and I smile. Staying around him at the hospital, I've learnt some new words. He smiles too, a watered down version, one that doesn't reach his eyes.

I grab his hands in mine and rub them to infuse heat and confidence.

"What does that mean for her?"

"I don't know." He truly doesn't.

"Do you know whom you can talk to?"

"I think so."

"Does Papa know?"

"Not yet."

He slumps against me, exhausted with the questions. I'm thinking about the answers. I grab my phone and quickly do a Google Search on the the effects of asymptomatic COVID. The first article that pops up is one from Web MD. The headline reads: Asymptomatic COVID: Silent but Maybe Not Harmless.

I turn my eyes to him. He already knows what I've read. He's read it too. "I don't know Sona. I really don't. I don't have the answers. The only thing we can do right now is to continue monitoring her lung capacity. But since she doesn't have any symptoms, I'm not sure what we will be treating."

I understand his predicament. I only wish he didn't have to deal with it. Suddenly I recollect that the two of us got swabbed too.

"What about our reports?"

"We're both fine," he respond absent-mindedly.

I heave a sigh of relief. I couldn't deal with knowing that Rohit was in any kind of danger. The moment I think that, I feel guilty. Ma is in danger. And we don't even know at this point what we can do to help her.

"Come and lie down Rohit," I tell him, getting up and tugging at his arm. "I know you won't feel sleepy but at least come and rest your body. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow and you can do with all the rest you get right now."

He doesn't protest and comes along. We lie down, together side by side. I gently slide my hands through his arms and place my head on his biceps.

"Ma will be fine."

"I hope your words come true."

"They will. Have faith." I say a silent prayer to the energy to make everything alright. I feel him believing my words, snuggling closer, drawing strength. I lean in to provide all the support I can. I want him to know I will always be there with him. For him. 

He turns his head, rubs his nose in my hair and whispers, "Thank you."

And just like that, for the first time, I feel wanted, not physically or monetarily, but emotionally. I want to smile, but I can't. I'm slowly beginning to learn the nuances of relationships. I just wish the circumstances had been different.