They say time can fix any wound, but that's not entirely true. Time may be able to heal your physical injuries, even your emotional scars. It can make those ugly memories that you'd rather forget, disappear in the back of your mind. It can do a lot of things, but what it can't do is fulfil the loss of someone you love. Especially when the void they left behind is like an unrelenting shadow following you wherever you go.
At least, that's the way it is for me.
I wake up to his picture smiling at me from the bedside table. This one was clicked on our fortieth anniversary. He's flashing that customary goofy grin of his that I so adore, while holding a woman in a yellow shalwar kameez. The woman looks happy. She has my face. We used to be the same, but that's not me anymore. That version of me died alongside him.
I lean forward and pick up the photo frame, tracing my thumb across it. I hold it for a long time, committing every inch of it to memory. It has been only five months since he has passed but it feels like five years. I never use the word 'death'. I want to believe he's still here somewhere watching over me, even though I've never been the superstitious type.
I flip the frame over, gently open its lid and take the picture out. Reaching into the bedside drawer, I take out the thick stack of photographs and shuffle them before picking one. I try not to look at the one I've selected and place it inside the frame.
It has become a daily ritual. Every morning, I wake up to a different memory of us. I deliberately sleep facing the photo frame. If I can't wake up to his warm embrace anymore, I'd rather see him first thing in the morning and fill my starved soul with the ghost of his memories. Anything to take my mind off the loneliness in this cold, empty bed.
Carefully, I put the frame back without looking at it. It's hard because my eyes are drawn to it, but I've trained myself over the months not to look. If I choose, I could spend the entire day here going through each photograph in the drawer, but once I've seen them all, his absence would hit me again. That's when it gets unbearable. So I don't allow myself to go there. Besides, I like to cherish every memory and dedicate an entire day to it.
Today I would only be thinking of our fortieth anniversary. I picture the moment in my head and smile, remembering the magical day. The way his soft chuckles had bounced off my cheek, or the musky scent that had filled me up when he had hugged me.
I dwell in the memory for a long time. For a while, it works. I'm back in the living room of our house, guests surrounding me. The giant three-tier cake I had made for the party is sitting at the table. Most importantly, he is here. He kisses my cheek and even after all these decades, I still feel the blush creeping up to my skin. My red cheeks contrast wildly against my yellow outfit, and I 'awws' and chuckles from those around us...
The alarm clock goes off and its bell pulls me back to the lonesome present. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and will myself to get up. It is going to be another long day.
***
I wash up and change out of my nightclothes. It takes me over an hour to get ready as my health is slowly deteriorating with each passing day. However, I refuse to rely on pills or trust doctors. I'd rather die here in my home than on some strange hospital bed, hooked to a bunch of wires and machines. Just like everything else, time has left its mark upon me. My bones and sinews groan and ache with every movement. Although it hurts, it also makes me happy knowing that the end is closer where he's waiting.
I walk into the kitchen. There's an eerie silence here that I still haven't gotten used to. The house is too big to live alone. Most of the rooms are locked, collecting dust. My son insists that I sell it and move in with him and his wife, but I could never imagine leaving this place. This is the house where his father and I spent our lives. The only thing keeping me tethered to this world is the memory of the life I shared here with Rayan. He may not be with me anymore but when I'm alone here, it feels like he is.
I go about my day, while I try to recall every single thing I possibly could about our fortieth anniversary. The memory makes me smile. As I chop the veggies, I grin remembering how we had danced that day after the guests had left. It takes me a long time to prepare the ingredients for breakfast, but I don't mind it, as my mind is caught up in a beautiful reverie. I turn on the stove, put the pot of soup over it and set it to boil.
A bell suddenly echoes throughout the house. For a moment I freeze, not quite placing the sound before realising it's the door. Not many people come here after Rayan, which I frankly don't mind.
I rush out of the kitchen as fast as my legs can carry me. By the time I reach the door, the bell has rung three more times.
I unlatch the lock and swing open the door. My chest flutters at the sight in front of me. He's back, I think for a brief, wild moment, before the reality sinks in. It's just my son. All the emotions drain out of my features. I should not be surprised to see him, now that he's finally back, but I'm still caught off guard.
"Sahil," I clutch the edge of the door. "What do you want?"
"Ammi, can we talk?"
Knowing what he is here to say, I mutter, "you caught me at a bad time, I was about to leave." I grab the keys and my coat from the rack behind me, and shrug it on.
"Can't you stay for a few minutes?" He asks, following me as I lock the door and walk out.
"I'm in a rush. A friend is waiting for me." I lie. "We were going for a morning walk together."
Sahil narrows his eyes. "You have a friend?"
"I do now. But you wouldn't know that, would you?" I turn away from him.
"Ammi, can't you let it go?" He paces after me. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for disappearing, but I had a reason. If you'll just let me explain-"
"I told you," I cut him off. "I'm in a hurry."
"It's been five months." He stands in front of me, blocking my path. "Can't you forgive me?"
I give him a blank stare. "I forgive you." I've been saying the same words to him since he showed up again at Rayan's funeral, but we both know there's no meaning to them.
"Ammi," Sahil holds my arms. His tone softens. "Please, come live with me. Please. You're fifty-eight. You shouldn't stay in that house all by yourself. Besides, Layla is expecting now."
The words should fill me up with happiness. I'm about to be a grandmother, but all I can focus on is Rayan. He'd never get to see his grandchild. He never even met his daughter-in-law, Layla, because Sahil left us.
I take a step back. "Congratulations to you and your wife, but I'm not coming."
Sahil gives me a pleading look which might've worked before he abandoned us, but not anymore.
I don't budge, and stare at him indifferently.
At long last, he looks down and steps to the side, letting me go on my path.
I walk away.
***
I wander through the streets for a long while. When I get too tired to walk, I sit on a park bench and think. I spend my time reliving the painful memories of the past, the kind I've been wanting to forget. They stir up every time I run into Sahil since he has returned.
I've always done whatever Rayan wanted, and in this case, I know he'd want me to forgive our son. However, as I recall how much we've suffered on Sahil's account, my blood begins to boil. If it had just been me, I might be able to let go of all the anger and resentment building up inside me, but it was Rayan who was hurt the most.
I remember how happy we were back then. Rayan had saved up all his life for an early retirement, and his hard work was about to bear fruit. We were going to give the house to Sahil and use the money to travel. Rayan wanted us to live out the rest of our lives in luxury.
Our son, who was supposed to be our crutch for our final years, didn't think twice about stealing the entirety of his father's fortune, and leaving his old parents behind to fend for themselves.
During the first few months, neither Rayan, nor I believed it. Sahil is missing, we would tell each other. Whoever stole the money took him as well. He needs our help.
I spent night after night crying on the prayer rug, begging God for the safety of my child, hoping he'll soon return to us. Rayan took it even worse. He had to go back to work, and whatever meager savings he had left were spent on the search parties.
As time passed, people stopped showing up to help us. Even the cops dropped the investigation, because everyone believed Sahil wasn't missing. He had taken the money and ran.
Eventually, I realised that they were right, but not Rayan. He didn't care about the money. The only thing that mattered to him was Sahil. The grief of his son's absence made him physically sick. Years passed, but he held on to the hope that his son would return. Until his dying breath, he kept on calling out Sahil's name.
I squeeze my eyes shut, tears streaming down my face.
Despite the medical bills and the financial hardships we faced, Rayan never agreed to sell the house. After everything that had happened, he still intended to leave it for his son.
Now, after eight long years, Sahil has the audacity to stroll back in my life as if nothing has happened. As if he isn't responsible for almost a decade of suffering.
I get so angry that I clench my fists. My nails bite into the skin on my palms. Whatever maternal love and affection I used to possess has long disappeared.
I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. My stomach quietly rumbles, and I'm reminded that I haven't eaten anything since morning. It's noon now. I get up and stretch, before making my way back home.
***
I see the smoke long before I reach the house. Wisps of black curls reaching high. And then I see the flame. Bright, scorching and cruel.
A scream pierces through my lips. The house was burning. Every memory I shared with Rayan; every reminder of him that has enabled me to live over the months; all of it! It was about to turn to ash.
I try to run towards the house to save whatever I can, but someone grabs me. Adrenaline courses through my veins, so I'm able to break myself free. However, it's impossible for me to approach the house. There's a wall of neighbours and pedestrians shielding me from the burning building.
I try to tell them to at least let me save the photographs, but all that comes out of my mouth are muffled sobs. I'm so hysterical that I'm barely able to breathe.
That's when I remember the soup. The vegetable broth I had set to boil this morning before Sahil came. Did I turn off the stove?
My stomach sinks. How could I be so careless? Our memories, Rayan's legacy, are all gone because of me! My sobs return with a renewed passion. I hiccup and scream through the tears, but everyone's telling me to calm down.
I feel too suffocated to stay here and watch the house burn. So I run. As fast as my legs would allow, as far away as possible.
***
I'm huffing and puffing by the time I reach my destination. I've made up my mind to end it long before I get here.
I'm relieved to find the bridge mostly deserted. Aside from a few cars speeding by every now and then, there is no one to interrupt me. Good.
Even though I know Rayan wouldn't want me to do this, I'm fine with that. I know he'd forgive me.
Besides, what else am I supposed to do? Even if I find somewhere else to stay, how can I go on living after losing everything? My memory has been failing me with each passing year. Rayan has always been there to remind me of things. After he was gone, I did everything I could to surround myself with the mementos of the life we shared together, so I wouldn't forget.
Now, without the photographs, how long before I'm unable to recall Rayan's features? How long before I start to lose even my most treasured memories. Who will be here to remind me then? I can't imagine such a future. It's better to end it now.
I stare at the water, giving it a determined nod. I wait for the cars to leave, and once the bridge is empty, I climb past the railing.
I'm coming, Love.
I squeeze my eyes shut and step forward. However, there's no pull of the gravity or cool water swallowing me. There's no swift release, because my arm is yanked away from the bridge and my back crashes into someone standing behind me.
I flinch and turn. It's Sahil.
"Were you seriously about to jump?" He shrieks, holding me by the arms. "I've been apologizing to you for months, Ammi! It's one thing if can't forgive me, but you'd rather kill yourself than live with me? Do you hate me that much?"
"It's not about you!" I pull my arms away from his grasp.
"I know losing the house was hard on you, but still!"
I whip my head up. "You know about the fire?"
Sahil lets out a shaky breath. "I thought you might have returned from your walk, so I went back there," he averts my gaze "but it was too late."
I remember the flames and my eyes flood again. I look down to hide the tears. "Stop this!"
"Stop what?"
"Pretending that you care! Why did you even follow me?"
Something like pain flares up in Sahil's eyes. He takes a step back and says quietly, "I know you don't want me around, but you were not well enough to be left alone."
"Oh, I'm not well enough to be left alone, am I?" A sardonic laugh bubbles out of my lips. "You can't be serious. Your Abba was not well enough to run the house all on his own for the past eight years! Where were you then since you care so much?" I coat my words with as much venom as possible.
Sahil flinches. "I realize my mistakes. I want to apologise to you properly. If you'll just let me talk–"
"I don't care!" I shout stubbornly. "Leave me alone."
"No," Sahil responds, his voice eerily quiet. Beneath the layers of pain and regret, I can see the undertones of frustration in his features. "You never even gave me a chance to explain. I'm not leaving until you hear me out."
"No excuse you make will be good enough for me to forgive me, so say whatever you want." I lie. In fact, this is why I've been avoiding Sahil all this time. I don't want to know why he did what he did, because if I know his reasons, I'm afraid of sympathizing with him. I'm afraid that my maternal love for him will reemerge, and he'll get away with what he did without ever realising the impact of his actions. Knowing about his circumstances will never lessen the pain Rayan and I had to go through, so I would rather not know.
Now, however, as I stand here in the middle of this bridge, I don't have a choice but to listen to him. I steel my heart with resolve not to let myself be swayed.
"I know it was wrong of me to disappear without a word," he begins. "I realise that, believe me. And the money..." He looks down. "I never wanted it for myself. I know how much Abba was looking forward to retiring early, and taking that away from him was the last thing I wanted."
I roll my eyes. His words bounce off my hardened heart.
"I got involved with some bad people," Sahil goes on. "I took a loan from them, but they kept raising the interest. When I refused to pay them extra, they beat me up, and then they threatened to kill both you and Abba. It was not an empty threat. I had nowhere to run. So I took the money."
"You think we cared about the money?" The words pour out of my mouth before I can stop myself. My resolve, which I took such great pains to harden earlier, is now on the verge of collapse. "We cared about you! Why didn't you return for the next eight years?
Sahil's eyes shimmer with tears. "I didn't have the guts to face Abba after taking the money. I know how hard he had worked to save it, and I... took it all away from him." His voice breaks. He takes a moment to catch his breath and wipes the moisture from his eyes. "I was determined to collect at least a portion of the sum I had lost before I could show my face to you two again. I was eventually able to save up some money, but it took me years."
"That's it?" I cross my arms. "You were ashamed because you took the money, but it was fine disappearing without a word for so long? You were too busy to even give us a call and let us know your whereabouts?" I shake my head. "That's not even a good excuse."
"I'm not here to make excuses," Sahil replies "I'm here to make amends. I'm so sorry..." He reaches forward and holds my hands. "I'm so grateful for everything you and Abba have ever done for me. After losing everything, I was able to stand back up and land on my feet. It's all because you two raised me to be capable." His fingers squeeze mine. "I'm not asking you to forgive me right away, but at least give me a chance."
"I just don't get one thing," I say. "Why? Why didn't you come back until the funeral?"
He lets go of my hands, and crosses his fingers. "By the time I had the money, a few years had already passed. I wanted to come back right away, but the more I thought about returning, the harder it got. Deep down, I was just scared that my apologies wouldn't be enough."
His words hit something deep within me, and I realise how right he is. My mind was already made up to reject him no matter what he'd say, so his fear wasn't totally baseless. I furrow my brows, unable to hide my guilt. Though, on the other hand, Rayan would have welcomed him back with open arms, if he had just bothered to show up. My heart sways back and forth with indecision.
"I wanted to come back," Sahil continues, "but I kept on wondering how you two would've explained my absence to everyone. I imagined you and Abba making excuses in family gatherings..." his voice cracks, "... and it chilled me to think of the humiliation I had caused you two. I knew the money would never be able to make up for that. Every time I built up my courage, I ended up getting cold feet. So I kept putting it off... I'm so sorry."
Despite my earlier intentions, my resentment slowly begins to crumble. Instead, my heart is now grieving for Sahil who has been alone for all these years, when his father and I had each other. My chest grows heavy. I'm tempted to wrap my arms around my son and comfort him, but I stop myself.
Instead I force myself to remember all the suffering Sahil's selfishness has caused. The traces of anger still remain inside me, and I fuel them by recalling the painful memories leading up to Rayan's funeral.
"You're sorry?" I push Sahil on the chest. "You think that's enough?" I push him harder. "If you had left us at least some of the money, your father wouldn't have had to keep working even after he got sick! Your Abba died working because we had no way to pay for his treatment!" I'm saying those words more to remind myself than to him.
"If I had known–" Sahil protests.
"How could you?" I push him again and again and again. My voice splinters. "If you had just... bothered to leave us a letter to let us know you were safe, we wouldn't have wasted every last penny we had on search parties to look for you."
His eyes widen. "You were looking for me? I–"
"Of course you didn't know because you weren't here, Sahil! You left us!" I'm crying and sobbing and hiccuping, as I continue to deliver punch after punch on his chest.
Sahil remains speechless. His features morph into remorse. He tilts his head and rests it on his crossed fingers.
However, I'm unable to stop. The words keep flowing out of my mouth, unfiltered. "When your father suddenly collapsed and had to be rushed to the hospital, I was all alone! I had no one! Because you left! And then he left!" I sink to my knees. My voice is now as high as it's loud. "Why does everyone keep leaving me! I'm so sick and tired of being alone! I might as well jump down this bridge now, instead of trusting you to stay."
Sahil's shoulders quiver as his silently sobs. When he raises his head, his eyes are read and blotchy and swollen.
"Ammi," he says gently, crouching down to face me."I've already lost one parent. Please don't make me lose another. I beg you. Punish me however you wish, but not like this."
"You've no idea what it feels like!" I argue. "I can't keep going. It's too hard."
"Abba's passing has left a scar on you, but it's a scar we both share. You're not the only one hurting." Sahil rubs the moisture from his eyes. "Please come with me. I'm not asking you to forgive me right away, but atleast give me a chance to redeem myself." He extends his hand to me.
I look at my son, glance at his outstretched arm and then gaze at his face again. My heart twists when I realize how much he resembles his father. Maybe, it's time to give up on my stubbornnes and put my faith in the actual legacy of Rayan.
I lean forward and take Sahil's hand.
