28: futuristic

Vijay remained silent during the auto ride to his house. At first, he wouldn't let her come with him, spouting bullshit along the lines of being a burden to her. But Nila stood her ground and because he was already exhausted, he agreed. If Nila had been in his position, in no universe would Vijay let her go back home alone. If Vijay would do it for her, why would he even think she wouldn't do it for him? Stupid. He was such a stupid man.

He stared at the blurring trees and grey buildings as they moved past them. The light from the flashy billboards shined on Vijay's silent tears that occasionally slipped across his cheek and he didn't even bother to wipe it away, probably because he didn't want her to know. But Nila knew anyway. She knew he was hurting, hurting so much that he didn't want to talk about it or even bring it up with her even once in the time they spent together. Rightfully, she should be somewhat mad that he kept something from her, leaving her unprepared. But all Nila could feel was sadness. Brimming sadness that choked her throat and clenched her heart because this man, this heart-wrenching man of hers, had been going through something devastating and yet been the most vibrant person ever.

"Why aren't you asking me questions, silver?" he said, turning to her. His eyes were glazed, tired and dull like blunt lead.

She inched closer to him so that she could put her arm around his shoulders. "I didn't think you wanted me to."

"I wish you asked so I'd feel less miserable about inconveniencing you," he said.

She curled her fingers around his hair, just tight enough for him to feel a tug. "You listen to me, you idiot. You are not inconveniencing me. You could never be one even if you tried and do you know why? You are charming but you've always been a pain in my ass," she said, and a small smile curved on his lips, "and I fell in love with the same man. Inconvenience, annoyance, idiotic tendencies and all. You mentioning it over and over again is insulting and if I hear it once more, I'm pushing you off this auto, my plane to heaven be damned."

His lips twitched. "You think we get a plane to heaven?"

"Free Business class seats for the best ones," Nila grinned, playing into his attempt at a distraction. It was nice to see her Vijay again, even if it was a glimpse of it.

"Guess we won't be sitting together then," Vijay said and Nila bumped her elbow against his. "What? You're a saint compared to me."

"Hey, I've done mistakes too."

"Enlighten me, sinner."

"I bunk classes."

A rich peal of laughter escaped Vijay's lips. "Sorry to let you down baby, that doesn't qualify."

"Okay, what about cheating? I cheated on a Hindi test in 7th grade," she said, and his mouth opened but she added, "It was the final exam."

"That doesn't make a difference. It was 7th grade. Hardly life-altering," he said.

"I lie to my parents all the time."

"Define all the time."

"Okay, fine, not all the time," she said, frowning. "Ugh, why is this so hard? I'm pretty sure I've done some terrible thin--- wait, why am I thinking of my crimes? I mean, when did being a good girl start becoming uncool?"

Vijay shrugged. "I didn't say anything. You started it." Nila narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't look at me like I'm the culprit. I am in love with you, silver. And I also think you are the farthest thing from uncool."

Nila smiled. "You better," she said, tucking herself to his side. She ran a hand over his broad chest, pausing to feel his heart beating normally and coiling it around his waist. Her head rested on the crook of his arm. Vijay placed a palm on her back to securely hold in her place. She felt him slowly relaxed beneath her touch.

She knew it would work because one, her touch seemed to do that to him. Two, Vijay preferred for others to lean on him rather than the vice versa.

Silence embraced them. And they held onto it and each other's warmth.

"Thank you."

She kissed his chest. "Anytime, runner boy."

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For some reason, Vijay's house was exactly how she'd hoped it would be. Painted a soft pink, a black metal gate leading into an expanse of space used for parking and potted plants, and a piece of a broad pipe tied to the gate. Nila must have been staring at it because Vijay began to explain, "It's for---"

"Holding the daily newspaper. So that even if it rains before your parents collect it, it won't get wet," she said. "My Dad did the same so you can find one on my house gate as well."

Vijay smiled and unlocked the gate. Nila couldn't help but take discreet glances at a shiny motorbike standing under the shed, the cover blown away to the side because of the wind. Vijay's bike. He didn't even look towards it. He walked straight into his house, letting himself in and leading her inside. A kind womanly face peeked from a room, which Nila assumed the kitchen, because the woman had a dosa spatula in her hand. "Oh, Vijay, you're home early. You didn't tell me you would be here for din—Oh, and who is this you brought along?"

"Um, Hi Aunty. I'm Nila. I hope---"

"Wait a minute," she said, scurrying off inside. Upon Vijay's insistence, she sat down on the sofa and looked around. A TV on the wall, it's remote carefully wrapped in plastic tape but torn over the + volume button, three wooden shelves on the wall holding photo frames and medals. Lots and lots of medals and trophies.

"Are those all yours?" she asked Vijay.

"Nah, my dad's, my mom's and mine."

"Huh?"

"Dad from his work and college – NCC and stuff. Mom's medals are those--- she was a kho-kho player. Mine are the three trophies," he explained. "Other medals are in my room."

Vijay's room.

His room. Where he called her from every night. Where he dressed. Where he slept.

Her cheeks flushed for some reason.

Vijay's mother walked towards them before her boyfriend could notice and make fun. She had removed her apron and carried two glasses of water which she placed on the tea table. Her black hair was tied in a low ponytail and streaked with grey. She had an oval face, matured with lines like souvenirs of a difficult but equally happy trip and tiny wrinkles near her eyes. "Hello, Nila. It's so nice to meet you. Vijay talks about you a lot."

"He does?" The entire concept of someone talking about their lovers to their parents seemed alien to her that it didn't quite settle in her mind like it was supposed to. She had to remind herself that not all Indian parents were against love. Some prioritized their children's happiness the most without villainizing the idea of falling in love.

"Ma, stop," Vijay said. She knew if he was in the right state of mind, he would have said more, been more dramatic, probably thrown his head back and groaned so loudly. But the two words were all that came out in protest before he leaned back against the seat. Vijay's mother seemed to notice it as well as a frown took over her face.

"Okay, okay. I won't embarrass you," she said but her eyes studied her son closely. "Vijay, why don't you go freshen up? I'll get to know your girlfriend without you having the need to butt in every chance you get."

Vijay rolled his eyes but he stood up. His eyes lingered on her, silently asking if she'd be okay and she nodded. Nila understood that Vijay needed some time and space alone. Even though she was hesitant that the idea might backfire on him, she let him go. Once Vijay disappeared into his room, Vijay's mother turned towards her. Her smile dropped.

"Something happened, didn't it?"

Nila nodded after a momentary hesitation if Vijay would be okay with talking about it to his mother. But he hadn't told her to hide it either. "He had a panic attack," she admitted.

"Again?"

"He's got it before?"

"Yes. He used to have it frequently after the accident but after a year, there was none. We pushed him to see a therapist but he wouldn't. And when it stopped on its own, we let it go. Either he became good at hiding it or this was a relapse of some sort. Did he go through one during the time you spent together?"

Nila shook her head. "He never spoke about it. I never knew he was going through something." After a moment of silence, she continued, "Aunty, if you don't mind, can you tell me what exactly happened? Vijay made the accident sound like something that happens to everyone but I knew he was affected by it. He couldn't drive bikes anymore. I know that. But there's something else, isn't it?"

Vijay's mother's eyes glazed. Nila worried if she had asked the wrong question. "I'm---"

"He didn't tell you about his brother, did he?" she asked.

"Vijay has a brother?"

"I thought so," she told, a weak sad smile on her face as if she'd come to terms with the reality of her son. "My first son, his name was Nishanth. He was four years older to Vijay but they acted like twins. They fought almost every night and their egos drove each other up the wall. But both were all bark and no bite. They were big softies."

"The house must not have an ounce of silence," Nila smiled sadly. With the abundance of 'was' and 'were' in her words, she could understand that something must have happened to Nishanth. He must have passed away.

"Yes, it would be strange if both acted like civilized humans. Nishanth was more disciplined than Vijay of course, since he was following in his father's footsteps to become a policeman. He had to be. But he was happy to indulge in Vijay's childish fights."

The reminiscent smile on her face slowly morphed into a grief-stricken one with the silence that followed. "The accident--- it wasn't just Vijay on the bike. He likes to make it seem that way to people so that they wouldn't pity him too much. Actually---"

"Nishanth was with him," Nila finished, her eyes wide with shock.

Vijay's mother nodded as she quickly wiped a few tears. "Nishanth had picked up a habit of drinking after his girlfriend broke up with her. His father stopped talking to him but Vijay never failed to have his back. That night he was drunk and had called Vijay to pick him up. He wasn't wearing a helmet. And the accident spared one son of mine but snatched away my other."

"I'm so sorry, Aunty," Nila said, finding herself tearing up again. "I-I don't know what to say."

"Vijay blamed himself. His father blamed himself for not talking to him before he died. The house was silent for the first time."

Tears slipped from her eyes. Nila couldn't hold it back anymore.

"I don't know what runs through Vijay's mind anymore. He's gotten good at refusing to mention his brother ever again. He doesn't talk about how he's feeling at all and shuts us out when we bring it up. But everything else he's happy to share to us. So, I don't know how to get through to him anymore."

The first thought Nila had was if his own mother couldn't do it, how could she ever? Nila had to tread carefully. Her priority was Vijay and Vijay only. She couldn't afford to antagonize him.

"Thanks for telling me, Aunty. I can't imagine how hard it must be," she said. "You can count on me to be there for Vijay."

She smiled and squeezed Nila's fingers before completely sobering up. She stood up. "So, what are you having for dinner? I was making onion uthappam. Do you like it?"

Nila was confused. "I'm---I'm not here for—"

"Shut up, of course you're going to stay for dinner. You look so weak. Women need to be strong. I'll make sure you eat well," she said, walking into the kitchen. "Vijay told me you're staying in an apartment with your friends. Come off here if you're feeling lazy to cook. Bring your friend too. I'll make sure you girls eat well."

Tears brimmed her eyes. Vijay's father and mother had been so kind to her, making her yearning strong and tug her heart. She had ached for this kind of relationship with her parents. Who knew she'd find it here, in this cozy little home.

Vijay walked out of his room, smelling like his body wash, his hair dripping wet. He frowned. "Why are you crying?"

"Don't you know? When boyfriends cry, girlfriends experience a delayed mirroring response," she said, blinking back the tears.

Vijay froze in his track. "Really?" He was serious.

Nila burst out laughing. "Of course, not. Come here, you!" she said, beckoning him over to the sofa. "How are you feeling, lover boy?" Nila pushed his damp hair out of his eyes.

"Better."

"What did you and Amma talk about?"

"Just... things," she said. And a moment later, she added, "I told her about the panic attack. I'm sorry I didn't know---"

"It's fine, silver. It's better that she knows."

"And um, I know too."

Vijay stared at her for a moment and then nodded. "Okay. It's better you know as well. I'm sorry I didn't tell you myself."

She wrapped her hand around his. "You don't have to apologize. I understand.'

Vijay flipped their hands and intertwined them, giving it a squeeze.

"Can I look around your house?" she asked sheepishly.

"Of course," he said and then whispered into her ears lowly, "Afterall this is your home too, in a way."

She blushed, knocking into his shoulders in a warning. "Too futuristic, are we?"

"A little confidence won't hurt, silver," he said, his grin back on his face like a king returning to his rightful throne.

She studied the medals and the trophies carefully. It seemed like the most important ones were the only ones showcased here – State and Zonal competitions, Intercollege meets and competitions. Then her eyes stopped at the photo frames. One was of his father receiving a medal in his uniform and the other was Vijay hugging his parents after a match. Her breath caught when she picked up a photo frame. It was a picture of the whole family – Vijay, his father, his mother and who must be Nishanth.

He looked more like his mother than his father --- sharp nose and kind eyes. He was smiling brightly, flashing his dimples like his brother and father. But that wasn't what made her breath catch.

It was the familiarity of the face.

She had seen him before.

She had seen Nishanth. She had also met with him. She had sat with narrowed eyes as she watched him make her genius sister blush constantly. Through the course of the meeting, he had made Nila feel so at ease that she had started talking to him. He had bought her a packet of snicker bars and even ruffled her hair, teasing her relentlessly for not talking much in the beginning. In the end, Nila had taken a liking to him and begged her sister to marry him immediately once he was gone.

Suddenly, Nila felt sick.

Nishanth was not a stranger.

He was the same Nishanth her sister had been madly in love with. Her sister's ex-boyfriend. The same one who her parents barred her from marrying.

And he was dead.

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