To The Place I Belong

SYLVIA

The music stopped abruptly and so did my jolly eyes droop at his question.
“Is it love that I see in your eyes?”
“Is it?” I answered deferentially in order to evade the question. No, now is not the time. He shouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what danger he is lacing himself with. Everything could be ruined.
I heard my mind redirecting me and so as the music stopped I loosened his clutch around me.
Everybody in the hall clapped joyously for the Freshers had come to an end. People soon drifted with their partners and companions near the buffet and launched themselves on the food hungrily.
Myra came running towards me and I was glad to find her spirits so high. Evidently Eric and Myra had some of the best moments of their lives. Is it love that I see in your eyes? – this keeps repeating and coming back to me like boomerang in my mind. While Myra chattered away about the things Eric said to her I found myself drifting to the one question which Ethan had asked.
Isabel seemed to have forgotten all her vendetta with George and kissed him passionately before making their way to us. Ben came alone, at great speed saying that Alicia had joined her friends again.
The moment Ben entered the circle Myra’s smile drooped and she turned her gaze towards the door. Ben himself tried his best to put on haughty airs about him and his ‘hotty’ pair but somewhere deep down I knew something too was wrong with him.

“Okay now I am hungry and I have to go and grab burgers before Drake wipes the table clean off them…” said Ben impatiently.
“Alright let’s go!” said Ethan, “Am hungry too!”
“Yes, but won’t we click some pics?” cried Isabel.
“Oh please, there’s time, but am hungry and am not moving out of this place without satisfying my tummy” refuted George.

And so the day was done. With some happy memories did we go back, singing and laughing, singing songs and pulling each other’s legs. Isabel was still cross at Ben for his grave choice though even she did not pick it up again till we were done with our personal party at Isabel’s house.
…
At around 7 when I entered my house, I could smell despair and sadness like a blood hound. No sooner had I entered than Jane came rushing, “Oh Sylvia! Glad you’re home…”
“What happened?” I asked feeling her tense hands on my cheeks.
“Arthur…” no sooner had she spelled it than I went rushing towards his room, “What happened Jane, is he in there?”
“Yes but go in silence.”
I entered the room which smelled strongly of medicine and was thwarted at the sight of dad lying on the bed with some instruments surrounding him. He had an O2 mask on his nose and there came the ‘beeping’ sound of a machine.
I turned to Jane dumbstruck and unable to speak I mumbled a low “What…”
She indicated me to come outside the room and closed the door gently behind me.
“Just after you were away at around 1 he said he was unable to breathe and blacked out. I can’t drive you know that, so I had to call the doctor. I said I alone cannot take him to the hospital so should I call the ambulance or would he come to our house afterall these symptoms were his old ones. He said that Arthur cannot make through such long distance, it was too hectic for his body to undergo another over-night treatment at the hospital and so they said he would be treated at home.”
I landed on the sofa with a thud and my thumbs pressing my aching head.
Jane carried on with a detail that blew my mind off.
“Syl, they said it’s serious, that it’s spreading” and she broke down into a wailing but stifled cry.
“What is it Jane?” I asked, my voice barely escaping my throat.
“Oh Syl, they said, he might not live long. It’s very critical.”
I could have almost fainted. I felt a panic rising in my mind and my heart almost skipped a beat. Restrained tears fought to emerge out of my eyes and the only thing the house witnessed that night was-two women crying endlessly and shouldering one another’s grief.
…
Life went on with certain restrictions there on. Dad could only speak occasionally. He would sometimes wake up from his slumber to ask for water and sometimes-me. His jolly eyes were lost in an array of confusion as he could not understand what machines were doing in his bedroom. He was of the opinion that he was still stout and sturdy and there was no need to be so apprehensive about anything. “After all I am not leaving my Syl so soon to struggle alone in this cruel world.”
And that, in usual occasion would make me want to cry and hit him with a punch on his arms, as I would do when I was a kid, but it only made my heart grow stifle with pain and mind go numb with old wounds.
It was under these circumstances that I felt the need to visit Mr. Oliver Davies again but let me tell you what –“Money can’t buy happiness” has always been a lie.  The truth was, I could no longer afford my therapies but dad wasn’t aware of it in the slightest bit.
…
On one cold November evening, when snowflakes were beginning to stick to the ground and change the landscape, dad found himself in the extreme of his ill health. Whenever he coughed, blood did ooze out and left me flinching. It was a Monday but I hadn’t left his bed side, for a single moment.
No Jane didn’t cry for she had been well accustomed to the fact that crying wouldn’t bring me any extra support but would leave me broken to my last pieces.
At about 11, when I finally decided that the worst had passed and I could get some sleep, I heard rapid knocks on my door. Unbolting it, I found myself standing face to face with the biggest fear of my life. Jane had been crying. And that could mean only one thing.
I rushed downstairs into dad’s room and Jane so did Jane, crying with a hand cupped over her mouth. She stood at the door, while I found dad coughing roughly and turning his head from side to side.
“Dad! What’s wrong! Jane call the doctor, call ambulance, don’t stand there! Go!”
“I have already, they will be here any moment,” she said turning towards dad “you hag hold on”
“Ah Syl,” Dad said breathing rapidly, “Alas time has come!”
“What ? I don’t understand! What-”
“I know-listen” he said touching my hands gently, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine…”
“What? I don’t-”
“You will be fine, even without me…”
“No, shut up!” I said hoarsely , breaking into a pool of tears, “No, no, you don’t get to decide in this house. It’s me okay? And when I say you will make it, you will make it!”
To my horror he gave me a vague, unearthly smile and said calling out to Jane “Jane-take care of Syl, won’t you?”
“Ofcourse I will, you wretched hag, but you will be there to take care of her, believe me, you will be just fine, hang on in there!”
He gave another smile and said, “Sylvia…”