Finding Arun

by Marisha Pink

EIGHT

  AARON tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time. In part this was due to the fear of sleeping through his alarm and missing his flight, but for the most part his restlessness could be attributed to nervous excitement. His whole body tingled with an electricity borne out of anticipation for the journey that he was about to undertake but, stealing a glance at the clock, he sighed deeply at the realisation that it was only three o’clock in the morning. There was still at least an hour before he would need to get up and though the past few weeks had flown by in a flurry of activity, time now seemed to be moving painstakingly slowly. Between making the necessary travel arrangements, packing and constantly reassuring Arthur that he would only be gone for a short spell, he’d barely had the time to dwell on the enormity of what he was about to do. Yet there in the darkness of his bedroom, it suddenly felt like he had all the time in the world.

  It was hard to imagine being in a place that he knew virtually nothing about. He had read enough to know that India would be nothing like London, but the conflicting accounts of tourists and natives had painted a unique picture in his mind, such that he no longer had any expectations at all. There were those that had loved its frenetic pace and searing heat, captivated by the myriad flavours and cultural traditions, and those that had been unimpressed by the overcrowded bazaars and filthy streets, frustrated by the ubiquitous poverty and bureaucracy. It was perhaps fitting that such a precarious reunion should be set against such an unpredictable backdrop, and though he was unsure where he might find Kalpana along such a vast spectrum, the uncertainty filled him with fear and excitement in equal measure.

  It was impossible to know how he would feel when he saw her, or indeed to guess at how she would feel when she saw him. Would she recognise him from the pictures that his mother had sent? Would she be surprised that he had come at all, after her letters had gone unanswered for so long? And what would she make of the news of Catherine’s death? It was clear that they had enjoyed a lifelong friendship, to say nothing of the fact that for years Kalpana had vicariously experienced motherhood through her friend. He wondered too whether she would be shocked to learn that he had believed her to be dead, or whether that was a condition of the mysterious ‘agreement’ that she had referred to in her letter. There was so much that Aaron wanted to ask her and he hoped that it would not be too much for her to handle in her sickly state. Whatever was wrong with her sounded serious and the irony of another mother being unable to get out of bed and wishing to see him was not lost on him.

  He checked the clock beside the bed once more; it was past four o’clock and at last time to get up. He wasn’t quite ready to face full illumination, so he switched on the bedside lamp above his head, allowing his eyes the time to adjust. In the shadows of the dimly lit room, he rolled out of bed and began to dress himself in a tracksuit and T-shirt, not too dissimilar from that which he had gone to bed in. He would be inappropriately attired for the weather that awaited him regardless of what he opted to wear, but the chilly May morning made warm clothes non-negotiable and he wanted to ensure that he would be as comfortable as possible during the long flight.

  He perched on the end of the bed and flicked through his travel wallet, double-checking for his boarding pass and passport, the sound of his mother’s voice reeling off a pre-travel checklist in his head. She had always been present when he was preparing to travel, alerting him to things that he wasn’t seasoned enough to consider himself, and though it felt strange that she was not physically there, it comforted him to know that she was still somewhere in his subconscious. Once he was satisfied that he had everything that he needed, he clicked the padlocks on his backpack into place and eased the straps over his shoulders. Despite Arthur’s many reservations, travelling with his backpack in Africa had been so easy and flexible that the prospect of dragging a suitcase through the busy streets of India whilst he tried to locate his birth mother was a distinctly unappealing thought. He grabbed the smaller rucksack, now containing his travel wallet, and, glancing around the room one last time, clicked the bedside lamp off and began to make his way towards the ground floor of the house.

  He was met at the foot of the stairs by a half-conscious Arthur and an excitable Aunt Ruby who, dressed in an unflattering blue nightgown, hadn’t wanted to miss the opportunity to wish Aaron well one last time.

  ‘All set?’ yawned Arthur, lazily rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  Aaron nodded enthusiastically in response.

  ‘Look after yourself, won’t you dear? And make sure to call when you arrive. And let us know how you get on with finding Kalpana. And don’t forget to take the malaria tablets. And remember not to drink the –’

  ‘For God’s sake Ruby, it’s too early for this,’ interrupted Arthur irritably.

  She scowled at him and reached forward, pulling Aaron into a tight embrace. Aaron stooped to accept it and returned her affections with a gentle squeeze of his own.

  ‘I’m really going to miss you, dear.’

  ‘I’m going to miss you too, Aunt Ruby.’

  Arthur rolled his eyes impatiently.

  ‘Right, let’s go,’ he barked, opening the front door and stalking across the expansive drive towards his Land Rover.

  As the engine roared to life, the white beam of the headlights passed through the open front door, lighting Aunt Ruby’s tear-stained face.

  ‘Oh Aunt Ruby, don’t cry,’ Aaron soothed, taking her in his arms once more. ‘I’ll only be gone for a little while, and remember my next big trip is to come and visit you in Australia,’ he offered reassuringly.

  Unable to speak, Aunt Ruby merely nodded between her sniffles and, releasing herself from his grip, shooed him out of the door before her emotions engulfed her so fully that she wouldn’t be able to let him leave.

  Aaron waved goodbye to his weeping aunt and marched purposefully towards the waiting car. He slung his bags across the back seat and slammed the door shut, before clambering into the front beside Arthur. He fastened his seat belt while the old man reversed out of the driveway, and when the car swung out onto the road, Aunt Ruby and the house slowly disappeared from view. Soon they were winding their way along the dark suburban roads at high speed, the dulcet tones of The Moody Blues’ ‘Nights in White Satin’ playing softly over the rhythmic chugging of the engine. Arthur was silent, pretending to concentrate on navigating the twisting lanes whilst Aaron stared impassively out of the window, unable to see anything through the darkness. The car began to pick up pace and when they turned onto the motorway the sun was just starting to rise in the distance.

  ‘Looks like it’s going to be a nice day,’ said Arthur, clearing his throat but keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead.

  Aaron turned to face forwards, nodding in agreement, but unsure what else he could add. It wasn’t the most scintillating of conversations, but he knew that Arthur would not be at ease discussing what was really on his mind and right now he could think of nothing else. He felt so anxious that he thought he might be sick and the speeding car was doing little to calm the butterflies that filled his stomach. Arthur opened his mouth to say something further, but quickly changed his mind and instead reached for the stereo to crank the volume higher. The pair continued to travel along in silence, the fields lining the roadside slipping by in a hazy green blur, and one by one the junction numbers steadily crept towards a climax. Signs for Heathrow Airport started to appear more frequently and before Aaron knew it they had reached the drop-off point outside Terminal 3.

  Leaving the engine running and without saying a word, Arthur quickly dismounted and began to wrestle the backpack out of the rear passenger door. Aaron climbed down from the car and walked round to the driver’s side to relieve him of the bag, but Arthur retained a firm grip on the straps. Travellers rushed all about them, zealously loading their suitcases onto trolleys and wheeling them off towards the terminal building, but the pair stood across from one another immobilised by their awk
wardness. Arthur looked everywhere but at Aaron, struggling to find the words to express himself, and Aaron wondered how long he would be forced to stand there before he could prise the bag from his father’s fingers without seeming ungrateful or impatient.

  Seeming to sense that he was running out of time, Arthur cleared his throat and began to speak.

  ‘You … you will come back soon, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Arthur. I’ve already told you about a million times that I will,’ responded Aaron, somewhat exasperated by the question.

  Arthur looked pensively at his son for a moment and then suddenly lurched forward, flinging his arms around Aaron’s neck in an action indistinct from the one that he had chastised his sister for earlier that morning. He hugged Aaron long and hard before quickly withdrawing and retreating to the safety of the car. He kept his head hung low while he fastened his seat belt, refusing to meet Aaron’s astonished gaze, and within seconds the Land Rover was speeding away from the terminal building.

  Aaron stood rooted to the spot, bewildered by Arthur’s odd impromptu farewell. Often detached and unemotional, yet seeming to care deep down, the old man's behaviour had become increasingly unpredictable and erratic since Catherine’s death, particularly when it came to Aaron. It was a concern that he had shared with Aunt Ruby out of an old sense of duty, but in truth it was something that he was glad to escape from. It was awkward and unfamiliar, and he had neither the time, inclination, nor patience to try to comprehend the inner workings of Arthur’s mind.

  He shrugged the odd episode aside and realised to his delight that he was alone once more. He picked up his backpack and, slinging it over his shoulders, started confidently towards the terminal building, a nostalgic smile plastered across his face. Less than four months before he had stood in the very same spot, full of enthusiasm for his African adventure and committed to helping orphans find the loving families that many thought they could never have. Now he was focused on only one thing; helping himself to find the family that he’d never known he could have, and that, he mused, was a very different kind of adventure indeed.