by Namita Singh
is not what makes it of substantial value. The fact that I am sharing it with my partner firsthand is what seems to be of importance. It may have been only a few days since my rapport with my partner has improved, mostly owing to the revelations of our identities as these supernatural beings. But these few days alone have developed such a good bond, even if an argument filled one, between myself and my partner. Without actually saying, my partner knows that I will not tolerate his absence. Inconspicuously, he does manage to convey that he will not leave me hanging alone behind, in case he jumps off into the oblivion. Furthermore, partner or not, he always makes sure to convey his thoughts, doubtful and unpleasant ones, to me. That is something I have been taking pride in since the day he got to know about us therians. Even before knowing that we are partners, he had been more inclined towards sharing his thoughts with me. And now, with or without the conscious thought of us being partners, he still expresses his thoughts; his doubts, his opinions; to me before anybody else. Hell, he has even proved in some of these circumstances that he trusts me more than his own aunt. And now, even I find myself telling him something that I have never considered significant enough to voice until now.
“Let’s go.” I tell him, feeling overwhelmed by all the gay thoughts in my mind; no pun intended.
It just seems out of place because I have never paused to ponder over my relationship with any of the men in my life, except for my father maybe. Gives a whole new light over the subject of partners.
We traverse back the length to the function which is still going on with full force. We enter the backyard from its backside, from right behind the stage. I inform Neal of my desire to go to the room and succumb to a peaceful sleep. His thoughts are no more different than mine. I inform mother before departing. Mother tells Neal that she has kept something for him in the room. Neal frowns, smiles and kisses my mother on the cheek before departing. As soon as we reach our room, I waste no time in collecting my nightwear and departing to the adjoining bathroom to change my clothes. When I return, Neal is sitting on his bed with something in his hands. He hasn’t even bothered to remove his shoes. I walk and hang my tuxedo inside one of the cupboards. I turn back and Neal is still looking at something in his hands. I remember that mother has left something for him.
Curiously, I ask, “What is it?”
Neal looks up, an effortless smile on his face, “A gift.” He says, extending his hand so I can look better.
“Phone?”
Neal nods, “iPhone. I actually needed one…since Ethan crushed my last phone.”
I nod appreciatively, “Guess mom really knew what you needed. Did she write something?”
Neal looks up from the plain white parchment that is in his hands. He hastily folds it, “Nothing of importance.” He nonchalantly says and stuffs the paper in his pocket.
I roll my eyes at him. I am sure my mother must have written something mushy to Neal. Neal being Neal, I don’t expect him to reveal it to me. So, I let it go. Knowing mother, she probably wrote something along the lines of how she considers Neal to be a part of her family.
When Neal is ready to hit the sack, he turns off the lights. In the darkness, I find my thoughts steering towards my mother’s gift and her words to Neal earlier in the party. Since the beginning Neal has taken a liking to my mother. Tonight’s event must have just made him like her more. And why wouldn’t he? Mother is far better at comforting Neal than anybody else, even me.
Where only two days ago I had shouted at Neal, shamelessly reminding him that he has no family, my mother has scored triple today with her pep talk. It is only making me feel guilty for how rude I was to Neal when we fought two days back. Well, he wasn’t exactly all flowers and rainbows but in his defense he is always like that.
“Neal?” I say in the darkness, loud enough for him to hear me on his bed.
“Hmm?” he replies instantly.
“I am sorry…for yelling at you day before yesterday. You know, about that family shit and all. I didn’t actually mean it, so, sorry.”
“What about today?” he asks.
“What about today?”
“You yelled at me today too.”
I pick the spare pillow on my bed and throw it across at him. From the sound of it, it does hit him but he only chuckles.
“Don’t hit your luck.” I grumble loud enough.
“How come you’re apologizing so soon?” he says, “I was expecting an apology next year or something.”
“I’ll say again, don’t hit your luck.”
Neal chuckles again, “Well, you don’t hit yourself over it either. You weren’t wrong. I don’t have a family.”
“No.” I say sleepily, “Now you do.”
There is an extended silent moment.
“This is getting too maudlin.” Neal mocks.
I chuckle, “Goodnight, Neal.”
“G’night, G’night.”
18.Mikhail’s Archenemy
The voting day passed by like any other day for us. The mansion is not where the voting occurs so we are not aware where exactly the horde of people had gathered. Now it’s been almost two weeks above the voting; for which I have realized that the representatives of different divisions are carrying out the votes in their respective divisions. We have not had much to do in the last few days except for aimlessly gallivanting inside the mansion. None of my family members encourage any of us young people to explore the realm. Even if they will, I don’t think I will feel enthusiastic about the idea. So far, my grandmother’s house is the only place I have visited except for the mansion. She persuades me at times to visit the family business but I always find some excuse. The thought of watching the bakery from which our shop in Latvia literally took birth is not something I want to see. It will only make me realize how ignorant my family has kept me, amidst such personal things.
Though I have come to like my grandmother’s famous hot chocolate, I still do not feel particularly enamored with the woman. She talks at miles per hour and coddles us like we have been here all our lives. Every one of us kids, even Neal, in fact even Silvia, has come to like Erisna for the homely aura she disposes. My grandfather, Jacob is, as opposed to my grandmother, not so talkative. Yet, that old man has sensed my reservations much quickly than my grandmother. I observe the laughing wrinkles on his ethereal face, his plain brown eyes, opposed to my blue ones, twinkling, as he continues to express observations of his own.
“Is it because you’re homesick?” he says in a gravelly voice which is actually how his voice is. Perhaps, due to old age.
“No.” I say, “I am fine.” I insist.
“I know adjustment can be hard, son. But know that we are trying our best to be good grandparents.”
Jacob is not a tough old man. He is humble, mostly placid. He keeps a straight back when he walks but a constant compliant smile on his face and one of his ears constantly devoted to his wife makes him seem a little shorter than he is.
“Grandpa…” I say, actually feeling bad for ignoring these old people. But then I huff, “I didn’t even know you guys existed a few days ago.” I tell him, exasperated.
Jacob suspires, “I know, son. Though I will never understand why you had to be kept oblivious of me and Erisna.”
His words speak volumes to me, something along the lines that it’s only my other grandfather – Mikhail – I should have been oblivious of. For a moment I contemplate asking what does he exactly imply but then I refrain, more from the fear of rejection. They are the only ones who are affectionate towards me, despite my disinclination towards them. If I will discover that they are prone to hide things too then it will probably destroy whatever positive image I have managed to conjure of them.
Besides, it just feels wrong to talk of my one grandfather to my other grandfather. I have not seen both of them talking at all, anyways. In fact, I haven’t seen Mikhail at all since that ‘judiciary’ gathering in the backyard. It is already around a month after that.
But I definitely am c
onsidering asking about why my parents left this realm as I feel that is indirectly connected to Mikhail. Just as a coherent sentence forms in my mind, I get distracted by Neal sitting across the yard in the distance.
“Erm,” I distractedly turn back at Jacob, “I am fine, grandpa.” I repeat, “Don’t worry.”
“Hmm.” Jacob says, turning around to see what has me distracted. Thankfully, Silvia, Aakir, Faith and Rahul are also in the front yard. So, Jacob may probably not assess the embarrassing blush creeping on my neck. “I just want you to know that we are here for you. Now go, have fun.” Jacob says, patting my shoulder once.
I nod and walk past him. Silvia, who is laughing for a change, is dodging Aakir with a basketball in her hand. She is supposedly teaching him some of the tricks on the driveway of my grandparent’s house. She seems to be enjoying Aakir’s foolishness. Faith is sitting in the front yard, her legs outstretched on the levelly cut green grass, getting tanned in the not so bright sun. Rahul and Neal are sitting on the chairs that they all have dragged out in the yard.
A high pitched giggle escapes Silvia as she snatches the basketball from Aakir, making Faith cheer for her while the guys chide Aakir for being a pansy. Neal is hollering his disappointment, alright. He is actually reliving it as I am sure this is one of the events he has conjured up to benefit Silvia. Despite my constant disapproval, Neal has gone right ahead and