by Namita Singh
it, Aakir.” I tell him.
“Yeah, I get it.” He snaps, “But this indifference is going to bite you in the ass later on.” Aakir then exhales, seemingly taming his gaiety, “Although, as much nonchalant you were at the end that much in the starting you were screamingly spilling rainbows. No wonder Neal was quick in clearly stating his sexuality.”
My ears start burning at his comment. I knew Aakir will not stay ireful for a long time but I didn’t expect him to abruptly start teasing me for my non-existent ‘gayness’.
“You weren’t exactly being helpful by adding your opinion.” I accuse, “So, shut the fuck up.”
Aakir shrugs, walking deeper inside the house. We walk into the hallway that leads to a staircase and further to the backside of the house, in between which lays the huge kitchen. I thought the kitchen in my house was huge but this kitchen is humongous, even bigger than our kitchen. Considering the size of this bungalow, I shouldn’t be surprised. It does come as a surprise though that a single person lives here. Or used to, whatever’s appropriate.
“Hey, Neal!” Aakir shouts, standing halfway on the staircase.
“Yeah?” Neal shouts back from somewhere above, from supposedly his bedroom, I assume.
“Is there anything to eat at home?” Aakir shouts back.
“There must be.” Neal’s faded voice comes, “Check in the refrigerator!”
Aakir nods to himself and starts walking towards his destination, making me roll my eyes. Almost an hour passes in intermittent silence with Aakir munching on the variety of snacks he finds in the kitchen cupboards. Our argument doesn’t let us freely speak with both of our noses stuck in the air. More than half of my attention is anyways directed to the idyllic aura that is stationary in the floor above us. I don’t know what’s taking Neal so long but a few moments back we had heard the shower running upstairs, so thought it wise to not interrupt and demand Neal’s presence. It must be a lot for him to take all of this so suddenly, so I guess it’s alright to give him a little space. Besides, I am not sure about his train of thought about these events. I don’t know what he thinks of himself being the most important entity in the therian world out of nowhere. Hell, I don’t know what he thinks of therians alone. Sidetracking that, it’s the subject of his aunt, Jennifer, which has me gnawing my lower lip. He hasn’t exactly seemed placated towards the revelations about his aunt; that is her nature and how she has come about to raise Neal. I still do not understand why Neal puts up alone. Wouldn’t it have been safer for him to remain amongst therians?
When the clock marks our two hour presence in the house, I start to worry a little. Neal’s aura is still effusing from above, seemingly stationary in one place. Aakir is now admiring the panoramic view of the ocean from the back windows of the vast kitchen, looking at ease. I tell him that I am going to check up on Neal. He simply shrugs, continuing to treat his eyes. Slowly, I make my way out of the kitchen and to the staircase, climbing one at a time. Once upstairs, I am greeted by an orotund hallway that makes me raise my eyebrows as I observe the opulence diffusing from every object. Be it the Persian rug or the contemporary candelabras at every corner or even the plain but opulentchandelier hanging at intervals. I ignore the humongous glass doors to my left that lead to a vast open verandah. I turn towards the right from where Neal’s aura is coming. Ignoring the various doors in between, I quietly walk to the slightly ajar door from the inside of which the aura is exuding. I raise my hand and knock slightly. On not getting any response, I frown, softly knocking again while simultaneously opening the door.
Neal is oblivious as he sits in the center of his king size bed which suspiciously looks bigger than my own bed back home. He is sitting cross legged, his upper body rocking slightly back and forth, his hands covering his face with his elbows resting on his knee caps, making him look slightly crouched.
“Neal?” I say.
Startled, he abruptly snatches his hand away from his face, looking at me in alarm.
“Dammit.” He curses, “Don’t scare me.” He mutters, frowning and averting his eyes, rubbing his right one.
“Eh, I knocked the door.” I reveal. “You didn’t respond.”
Neal nods, still frowning.
“Is everything…okay?” I ask, taking a step inside his insulting large room.
“Hmm?” Neal replies, then shakes his head quickly, “Um, yeah…everything’s just dandy.” He drawls.
I don’t miss the sarcasm.
It simultaneously makes me realize how stupid I am to ask if everything’s alright. Of course nothing’s alright. Not in the record at least.
I walk slightly to the left and lean against the wooden high end book showcase. Or what looks like a book showcase. “You seem slightly out of it.” I tell him.
He rolls his eyes, “Aren’t you an observant person?” he snaps.
“What’s with the attitude?” I snap back. Seriously, hasn’t he realized that we are on his team? Yeah, I understand it may be tough for him to grasp his status so drastically but lashing at people who are willing to stand by him hardly counts as a sensible reaction. It has started to tick me off.
Neal rolls his eyes, averting his eyes somewhere else. He doesn’t say anything.
“Look,” I start, “I’ll not say I understand your position because most probably I do not. Even though I can, sort of, make out that it must be harsh on you suddenly learning about all of this. But a little cooperation is not going to hurt anyone. People are ready to stick around you; they are worried sick about you for your safety. Showing them your wrath is not an incredibly wise choice.”
Neal doesn’t say anything, glaring at some spot on his bed sheet.
I sigh, “Everyone’s ready to help you, Neal. You should feel glad that you’re not alone.”
Neal scoffs, looking up at me, giving me a condescending glare.
“Don’t stare at me.” I say, “It’s true. We are here to help you, your aunt’s here from all the way to god knows where-”
“Please,” Neal scoffs again.
“-They all are here for you.” I tell him.
“No, Lichinsky.” He replies, staring at me again, “There are here not for me but because of what I can do.”
“Are you seriously shitting me?” I snap. What’s wrong with this guy?
“Are you seriously shitting me?” he retorts. “You’re one to talk, Lichinsky. The only reason you’re standing right here is because of some hoodoo therian senses. So, don’t tell me you’re here for me. You’re here because of some sort of a compulsion that I am sure you never wanted in the first place.”
I open my mouth but no words form in my vocal cords. It dawns on me what he is thinking. I am left flabbergasted when I realize that I don’t have a response to his theory. Yes, most of us all are apprehensive of Neal’s fate because he is the vaticinator and yes, I want him to be safe because he is my partner. Will Neal gather even half of the attention he is getting now if that is not the case? If he is not the vaticinator, will his aunt still be there for him? Hell, if he was not my partner, will I even be here? That’s kind of ironic because if it is neither of those cases then Neal will not be in this situation at all. And neither will he have anyone by his side because the situation will not call for it. Moreover, he is somewhere right to call this compulsion….Don’t get me wrong, I may have been appalled to know of my partner but I have never been embarrassed or saddened. But that doesn’t mean I am thrilled about it. I never have been. Right now, I feel ashamed to admit that if I am given a chance to change my partner, I’ll grasp it. I don’t dislike Neal, on the contrary I like him as a person, even with his sarcastic jibes, but I will still bolt down for a female partner. But with that not happening, I am left helplessly seeking for Neal’s aura whenever I get the chance. Helplessly working to be in his good books and helplessly hoping for us to be best of friends because no other aura satisfies me anymore. No other person will satisfy my mental needs. I will not be making those efforts if Neal was not my partner.
“You’re right.” I mumble. Neal says nothing and I take that as my cue to continue. I suspire loudly, “But,” I say, “You’re my partner now and you’re the vaticinator. Be it out of compulsion but none of us want you to be in jeopardy. So…I don’t see the point of brooding over it.”
Neal drawls, “Aren’t you a sweet talker?”
I roll my eyes, “You can either be a sarcastic bitch or just accept things the way they are and work from there.”
Neal scoffs at that again.
“Seriously, Neal? I don’t see how being angry over something you can’t help is going to bring you peace. You’re more mature than that.”
He gives me a glare at that. “How would you feel if the only family you had was lying to you since your birth?”
So, that is that. The main reason he is upset.
“The only family you have.” I correct him, displeased at him referring to his family in past tense.
Neal rolls his eyes, “I don’t have one, Lichinsky.” He says bluntly,“And whatever doubts, or maybe I should say despair, I had has been largely exemplified by my aunt.” He drawls the last two words.
“She is just looking out for you, Neal.” I say, “She has been doing that since her teenage years, most probably.”
“Because I am the vaticinator.”
I sigh. “Just because she has been looking out for you because of your abilities doesn’t mean that she