#stranded task 3

A locked door.

A locked door that’s been locked for the past two months.

Talia was terrified of it still. Terrified to walk in, to see Madison’s belongings, so see it like her friend has left it all that time ago. Terrified to walk in and not see Madi on the bed, sleeping, or rummaging through his drawer for just the right colored yarn, or being halfway in her uniform already, getting ready for bed. Terrified to be once again hit with the fact that Madi was gone.

It felt impossible. They never found her body. Nor her partner’s. No signs of life, but no signs of death, either. No torn off piece of uniform, no shoe, no blood, nothing. They could find nothing in the two months that she’s been gone.

And ever since she heard the news (Liz called her, a day after they got the call - as she put it, they were so struck by grief, they forgot about her and she was dreadfully sorry but Talia must understand. She absolutely did not.), she hasn’t been able to get through that door. This is how Madi left it, and going in there, going through that door, would have meant accepting that Madi was gone.

She’s been waiting. She’s been waiting and hoping and praying, she prayed so much, that Madi would be found. She told herself she wouldn’t even mind not being told right away, she would much rather be a worried mess for a few more days, even, if in the end it meant that Madison Byrd would walk through the front door. Their front door. But she never did, and Talia never got the call that they found her. But she also never got the call that they didn’t.

And yet, here she was once again, looking at the door, terrified of opening it, with the knowledge that she had to now. She had to after the conversation (read: fight) she had with Liz earlier that day.

(“Talia, you agreed that you’d pack up Madi’s stuff two weeks ago now.”

“She’s not gone yet, Liz, nobody actually found her yet.”

“Talia, honey--”

“Don’t honey me, Liz.”

“Fine, fine, jeez, I-- look, I get it, you want her back, okay?”

“You act like you don’t! And she’s your sister!”

“Yes, she’s my sister and I’m dying on the inside knowing what happened to her, but pretending it didn’t happen won’t help a single thing!”

“No, but trying to do something to prove that she is still out there could.”

“Jesus, Talia, we’ve been through this--”

“I have the money, Liz. I have the fucking money, we could get a team-- a good team, see what they can find.”

“I don’t want you to--”

“Madi is still out there, Liz!”

And that’s when Jake appeared, his baby doe eyes looking up at Talia with a newly found hope in them. “Aunt Madi is okay? Is she coming home? Moooooom, when is Aunt Madi coming home, I missed her so much. Can we go see her right away?”

Liz’s eyes could have thrown daggers at Talia. “She isn’t coming home, sweetie, we’ve talked about this. Go sit in the car, I’ll be right there with you, okay?” To give her credit, she did wait for the car door to close before she turned to Talia, her eyes brimming with tears as well, for the first time showing that she was also barely holding it together, like Talia was.

“Listen, Talia, I know you’ve been close, okay? And I get it, it’s fucking hard to accept that she’s gone. I’ve cried myself to sleep for the last two months and I still keep waiting for the phone to ring and her to be on the other side of it, telling me that she’s okay. But I have a kid, who adored his aunt like crazy and who barely understands why she isn’t coming home anymore. So don’t you dare say that in front of him again, do you hear me? I don’t want you to confuse him again even more than he already is. And for fuck’s sake, pack up Madi’s stuff already!”)

So now here she was, standing in front of a fucking locked door, terrified of seeing what was inside, terrified of being hit in the head once again that Madi was gone. Terrified to accept that Madi wasn’t coming home.

But Liz’s words rang in her ear. And for fuck’s sake, pack up Madi’s stuff already! Liz wanted Madi’s stuff packed up. Madi’s parents wanted her stuff packed up.

(They didn’t say it outright, they never did, but every word Talia exchanged with them reeked of how they themselves didn’t understand why they were even letting Talia handle this. As if Talia wasn’t close to Madi. As if they didn’t live together. As if she didn’t fucking love their daughter.)

So she was going to pack up Madi’s room.

Talia took a deep breath. And then another and another. And then a couple more, before she finally managed to convince herself to lay her hand on the doorknob and step inside.

The room looked as if Madi has never left. Her bed was made, but her uniform was lying messily on top of it. There were papers all over Madi’s desk. Her shelves were full of books - cooking, gardening, a bunch of stuff about bees, travel books that barely got actually used, but Madi loved flipping through them still, romance and adventure books, and handbooks for her job. There were a couple of old DVDs slipped in there, one of them the DVD Talia let her borrow and Madi never returned it. She kept forgetting, and after a while it became something they joked about between them. Her closet was closed. There were a couple of different pictures on the wall, and a calendar, dates circled in and couple of notes jotted down. October 20th had several little hearts and a candle on it - it was the day they planned to celebrate Madi’s birthday, once she got back to Boston and they both had an off day from work.

Talia closed her eyes for a moment, tears silently streaming down her face. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t just pack up Madi’s entire life into boxes and hand them back to Liz. She couldn’t just say goodbye to her friend, her roommate, the woman she loved so dearly and so preciously, and yet not at all enough.

She carefully walked over to the bed and first sat down onto it, and then laid down, pushing the uniform down to the floor. She could pick it up later. The pillow still vaguely smelled like Madi and she felt ridiculous, pathetic, but Talia closed her eyes and imagined the woman lying next to her, just inches away, not touching her, but there. She could almost convince herself of it. But when she opened her eyes, Madi wasn’t there.

Talia couldn’t help but think of another close call, but one that Madi walked away from. After which she did get home.

***

Madi was curled up on the couch when Talia got home, which wasn’t at all surprising. What was surprising, though, was the fact that Madi didn’t welcome her with a wide, bright smile. Might have been presumptuous of Talia to expect that, but over the almost one year period of living together, anytime she found Madi on the couch, bundled up blankets, the woman would look over her shoulder and give her this huge, bright grin full of joy just because she got home.

It immediately started a small siren in Talia’s head, but she tried not to make a big deal out of it. It’s not like there wasn’t any greeting at all, they didn’t have a fight, so maybe Madi was simply tired.

Talia went around the house, dropping her stuff, changing into more comfortable clothes, settling in and all the while telling Madi about one of her idiot coworkers a group of student came to her to complain about and still, there was no reaction. Nothing.

“Madi, you’re okay?” she finally asked, but all she got was a quiet yes and Madi changed the channel. Okay. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Have you been bundled up on the couch since your shift ended?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Okay, something happened at work, that was clear. Didn’t Madi mention some newbie starting today? Or was that tomorrow? Talia wasn’t completely sure, but if this new person was giving Madi problems, that would explain the bad mood.

“I’m going to make us some tea, how about that,” she offered.

“Not everything can be solved with tea, Talia,” Madi snapped back, harsher than before and yet weaker all the same and that was it, Talia was annoyed now, too. She got that whatever it was, Madi was having a good day, but she was just trying to help and if Madi didn’t want that, she could just say it instead of playing the five years old and snapping--

Talia stopped in the middle of her thought process as she rounded the couch and finally saw Madi in the flash, not just saw the pile of blankets or heard her voice. She looked so-- small. She always kind of looked small when she bundled up like this, but there was something about her now that seemed like if she could, she would have already shrunk as small as she could, or would have even disappeared. And her face… by now Talia knew how Madi looked when she was trying to keep things in, when she was trying to pretend that things were okay. It didn’t happen a lot, Madi was generally okay and happy and upbeat, but Talia still remembered the night Madi told her about the fire and what happened to her. She had a similar look about her.

“Madi, luv, what’s wrong?” she asked, immediately sitting down onto the couch (partly onto Madi’s feet, but she doubted Madi even felt it in the state she was in). Madi just shook her head. And then shook it again and again and again until the tears were streaming down her face but still, she wasn’t talking. “Luv, you can tell me, I’m here, I promise.”

“There was-- there was a fire we were called to,” Madi started, shifting and Talia moved without even realizing it, moved away so Madi could properly sit up, and then she was sliding back, wrapping her arms around Madi and pulling her friend close, running her hand over her hair. “The structure collapsed and I got stuck inside and I-- and I--” Madi choked on the words several times, her breathing getting harder and harder - Talia couldn’t tell if it was because of the crying or because her anxiety was kicking in, probably a little bit of both, but either way, it was killing her to see Madi like this. Strong, brave, amazing Madi who had so much light in her, sobbing in her arms.

“I thought that was it,” Madi finally managed to say and even though Talia figured where the story was going, it still broke her heart to hear Madi say it out loud. “Communication got cut off and I was stuck, couldn’t get out, couldn’t do anything, and I thought...”

She thought she was going to die in the midst of a fire like she thought she would so many years ago, too, Talia finished the sentence in her head, but didn’t say it out loud, just kept caressing Madi’s hair and murmuring, “It’s okay, you’re alright, you’re here, you got out.”

Talia wasn’t sure just how long they’ve sat on the couch like that, Madi crying into her shoulders and Talia quietly trying to comfort her friend, but it must have been a long time because by the time Madi pulled back, there was barely any light coming through the windows. She had no tears anymore, no new ones at least, the tears seemed to have dried out a bit ago, but Madi still wiped at them and Talia reached over to help her - careful, light touch of her fingers against Madi’s cheek.

“I don’t-- I don’t want to die like that, Talia. I know it’s inevitable - dying, I mean, not the fire - but I don’t want it to be the fire that takes me.”

Talia bit her lips. “You know that your job...”

“Please don’t be my parents. Please don’t start trying to talk me out of my job.”

Talia shook her head, squeezing Madi’s hand. “No, that’s not what I was going to say. I was just going to say that if you have the job that you have, it increases the chances of that happening.”

“I know.” Madi sounded so weak, so small, Talia wanted to hug her again. Wanted to kiss her, too, but this was not the time. Not when Madi was such a mess. When it would happen, it had to be perfect. Or at least closer to perfection than this.

“Are you okay with that? Are you okay with such a high chance compared to any normal, not so heroic person?”

“I’m not heroic, Talia, it’s--”

“I know, it’s your job. And you’re crying over not wanting to die in the fire, and yet you chose the one profession where you have to run into it every single day. So yes, you are heroic, but that’s not the point. Are you okay with that chance? Are you willing to take that risk?”

Madi was quiet for a moment before nodding. Talia swallowed hard. “I don’t get you sometimes.”

“Why?” Madi asked, tilting her head to the side, and now Talia felt like she was on the verge of tears. How did this woman become so important to her? How did she sneak up into her heart without Talia really noticing, until it hit her in the head. This was the moment when it hit her that she could have lost Madi today. That without knowing it, while she was listening to students complaining about one of her coworkers, Madi could have taken her last breath, shockingly and without any warning, and Talia wouldn’t have known. She couldn’t have said goodbye, she couldn’t have been there for the woman.

Her throat was dry.  She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about the possibility of living in a world without Madi. But as long as Madi was willing to take the risk, it would be something that would hang over their heads. And Talia wished she could be selfish enough to ask Madi to stop, to find something else where she could help people. But she saw what Madi’s parents and their constant nagging did to their daughter, and she wasn’t going to be yet another person to cause that kind of stress to Madi.

So instead of begging her to quit and try to stay safe, to at least avoid the fire and not spend her days running into infernos, all Talia said was, “I don’t want to lose you. You hear me, Madi? I don’t want to lose you, so you better say fuck you to all those odds and come home every day, okay?”

The woman just nodded, “Yeah, I can try as best as I can,” and this time it was Madi who leaned forwards and hugged Talia, the two of them trying to reassure and comfort each other as best as they could in that moment.

Talia didn’t cry, she managed to keep it together, but she spent the entire night finding excuses to touch Madi, just to make sure she was still there, still alive, that the worst hasn’t actually happened.

***

“Hn - Madi -! Oh...”  Talia’s eyes flew open, breath snorting into wakefulness as she froze and looked around.  Her brain came to and Talia relaxed, realizing she was in Madi’s room.  She must have cried herself to sleep; the darkness indicated it was now evening.  How long had she been asleep?  It was like the scent of Madi, that faint, sad relic of Madi had acted like a soporific, putting Talia into a heavy nap.  After nights of insomnia, that small little nap felt like she’d slept for 24 hours straight.

“God…” Talia grumbled, the ache starting all over again in her chest, the tightness in her head.  As every instinct wanted to just yell out for Madi and hear her answer.  Demand tea or a Netflix binge session, or something normal, and get up and join Madi for a happy evening together.  But then Talia had to remember the pain, all over again:  Madi was gone.  Madi was gone.  She had to clean up this room, because Madi was gone.

She groaned, her brain already reasons to postpone packing up yet again, as she slowly struggled to sit up.  Her hand smacked against something cardboard-like, under Madi’s pillow.  Frowning, Talia sat up and tugged it out.  

It was a duotang with the National Coast Guard logo imprinted on it, and a label that said a bunch of military-sounding jargonny words.  But what stood out for Talia was: FLIGHT 441 SAR SOPs.

Search and Rescue - which Madi had volunteered for. This was the Operating Procedures for the mission.   Talia groaned again.

“Oh Madi...so eager to run off and save people, you forgot your hero instruction manual,”  Talia mumbled, as if Madi was there to hear her.  (If she was going crazy, talking to non-existent people, Talia didn’t care. She was grieving; wasn’t crazy part of grieving?)

Apathetically, Talia flipped through the pages. But as she caught sight of the information, Talia paused, and went back to the beginning. She began turning the pages, scanning them with a sudden feverish intensity.  

The folder gave details of the flight, including grids and coordinates of proposed crash sites.  It gave the information of the ship that would take Madi and the rest of the Search and Rescue team to these locations.  It gave details on how the search would be conducted, safety procedures, all sorts of information that was probably not accessible easily by the public.  

Talia perched on her knees, excited, even though there was a part of her brain - a Liz-shaped, Liz-voiced part of her brain - that begged her to stop.  Do not go down this route, do not start thinking that maybe Madi was still alive.  That maybe Madi could still be found.

Talia ignored her little internal Liz - shut her back in her car and told her to drive away.  

She just needed confirmation.  This was what Talia assured herself, as she flipped through page after page.  She wasn’t looking for miracles, all she wanted was to know.  To know for sure, that Madi was gone, that she was actually, truly gone.  Then Talia would let it go, pack up her room.  She just wanted that closure.  Was that so bad to --

“OH MY GOD!” Talia shrieked.   “What.  Oh my bloody fucking….”  Talia gripped the folder tightly, crumpling it as she stared at the first two names of the Flight 441 passenger manifest.

Akbar, Emre (UK) Akbar, Iyaz (UK)

Talia ran her finger over Emre’s name, mouth dropping.  She grabbed her phone - but then remembered with a cold bitter horror. She’d deleted his number.  Two years ago, almost to this day, was the last time she’d spoken to Emre Akbar, and then deleted his number.

***

He rang - he had the nerve to actually ring her up.  Finally, Emre Akbar calling Talia after years of him sporadically not answering or leaving her on read.  Talia supposed she could interpret it as guilt, an apology; but by now she had a hard time trusting most of the things Emre did.  He'd ghosted and fibbed and avoided until she cornered him.  And then Emre knew how to give reasons, apologize, give her space until she relented.  Again and again; and it got worse in the past few years.

But Talia picked up anyway. No hellos or small-talk; she knew him too long to bother with that.  "Finally a promise he makes good on. Cheers for that, Emmy."

"Oi Tiz - what?  Was it this weekend? Bollocks..."

"Oh just shut up - you knew I was in Wembley this weekend!  I put it in your calendar and texted you reminders!" Talia cut Emre off.  "One thing, man!  I asked for /one/ thing from you.  You promised you'd come see me for the convocation.  It was my PhD, Emmy.  And you couldn't even show up."

"I wanted to,” Emre replied, like he always did. “Believe me, luv, I just - yo can we facetime?"

Talia relented (she told herself it was not relenting, because she wanted to see his stupid face as well, all the better to yell at) and switched, ensuring her own expression was crafted into flat disapproval when he saw her.  Not just disapproval, but sadness too, and hurt.

"Oi - you got something green in your teeth," Emre said, and Talia rolled her eyes.

"You haven’t even seen me talking yet, you dumbass.  Or sorry- its ‘dumbass’ too American for you?  Well you're a huge pile of bullshit, mate, how’s that.  Fucking god, Emre..."  Talia stopped walking and crowded into a small greenway between the shops, on the busy Boston street.  Somewhere private.   She slumped against a wall, focused only on his face.  "You really do look like shit you know that?  God, are you high?"

Emre shrugged, looking away from his phone, like something else caught his attention.  His usual distance, whenever Talia tried to ask him about him.   She’d ask Emre what he was doing, his plans, where he worked - all of it.  He'd just look away like that, and shrug.  ‘Don't ask, Talia.  Don't get involved.  You're not here.  You don't know.’  The same shit he said over and over over the years - why did she put up with it?  Because despite it all, she still had a soft spot for Emre.  The history they shared growing up together, she still honoured that sadness, when the Akbar parents disappeared.  Talia and Emre were once such good friends; she still loved him, and Talia liked to believe he still loved her.  Call her sentimental or stubborn, but Talia couldn't give up on people that easily.  

Emre finally looked at her again, and spoke.  "I'm sorry I missed you again, Tizzy, really.  I just - things got busy for me, yeah?  Work keeps me on-call these days."

"The work you can't talk about, right."  Talia shook her head, running her hand through her brown hair.  "Em, look...it's not just this weekend though.  It's...it's everything.  The past year - the past five years.  I'm tired of trying, and like, reaching out like this, and all you keep doing is brushing me off.  You keep pushing me away and I’m only patient for...twenty years, I guess.  I mean - I'm still worried, you idiot.  Every time you blow me off, I worry.  If you'd just talk to me, Emmy.  I could help you, yeah?  We could sort it out."

But Emre was looking at her now, camera angled so his eyes took up most of the screen.   They were blasted-out black holes, freezing her out; she could see it even through the phone.   "Help, right yeah,” Emre muttered.  “Just - yeah bruv - just hop on the tube, ten minutes tops you'll be here, yeah?"

"Emmy--"

"Oh no wait - you're not here, Tiz.  You left us twenty years ago, didn't you."

"Ohmigod, that's not fucking fair, Emmy!” Talia exploded. “What did you want me to do?  Tell mom and dad like - oh sorry dudes, think I'll just hang in London with Emre Akbar and his Gran for the rest of my life?  We were eighteen, Emmy.  I went wherever  mom and dad went, that's what kids do..."  She saw the twitch of his mouth and Talia sighed.  "That's - I mean - that's not what I mean.  I'm not talking about you and your--"

But Emre cut her off again.  "So why not hop on one of your daddy's jets then yeah?  Since Mamoon's a bigshot billionaire and all."

"Ummm, okay?"  Talia lost her temper at Emre’s unwarranted derision. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Talia knew this was what Emre wanted.  He could push her buttons...just like she could push his.  Unlike Emre though, Talia chose not to.  "Okaaaay, so on top of me moving to the States with my parents when I was /just a child/, now it's also my fault that dad's business took off?  He’s - he’s not a billionaire you dumbass.”  Her dad’s business was up there in the hundreds of millions though.  Fortune 500, all of it.  What Emre said made Talia heated and itchy under her collar, she should’ve steered the conversation away.  But she was so indignant, she couldn’t help pushing him more.  

“What else you got, Emmy?  Go on, hit me."  Talia was shouting now, she could hear herself but she just glared at anyone who glanced her way.  

"Mamoon's business, yeah right,"  Emre snorted a bitter laugh, then leveled his gaze at her.  "Yeah his shipping business, so bloody lucrative.  You know it's not as honest and upstanding as you choose to pretend it is, right?  All that sort of money and success, it don't come honest, darling.  Mamoon's a shady bastard - he’s made deals, fixing numbers and breaking backs, and you? Well our little girl Talia gets another new car and goes to fancy ivy league and a posh flat and no questions asked --"

"Shut up.  Shut up Emre!" Talia snapped. Her tone was so sharp and icy, she actually did shut him up.  "Fuck you.  Fuck you, god.  God, I can't do this anymore!" Talia laughed angrily; and just like that, the decision that had been weighing in the back of her mind for months now, was made. 

"I’m done, Emre.  This is it, we’re done.  Just remember this moment, yeah?" she lifted the phone up, so Emre could see her full face, so there was no misunderstanding.  “I hope you remember this, five years from now when you're lying fucked-up in some gutter, and everyone's given up on you and you're all alone with your fucking shitty attitude and aggro bullshit, and I hope poor sweet Yazzer's long given up on you and I won't answer your calls and you'll have no one, yeah?  You'll be all alone and dying and NOBODY! WILL! CARE--!!  Fuck--"   

Talia ended the call, tears falling as she sobbed in loud, choking gasps.  If this was a movie, she'd be throwing her phone; but this was real life and she loved her phone. Talia just kicked a trashcan instead, then crumpled over in pain because her high heel was not ready for the impact.

Immediate regret.  Talia felt immediate regret, but she still couldn't bring herself to call Emre back and apologize.  No, not even a text.  She wouldn't relent this time.  Not now, or in a few days, or after a few months when she felt pity, and wondered how Emre was doing.   No - he deserved this, goddammit.  He'd pushed her to the last of her reserves.  And if this was what he wanted, then he'd succeeded.  So Talia opened her contacts to block and/or erase him...but found she couldn't do either.

"Hnnnnng, fuuuuuck!" she wailed, wild with distress.  Through her tears, Talia managed to send a text to the only person in the world who could calm her down.  Who could be there for her, hold her hand, hug her tight, and walk her through this.  Assure Talia she was right, to do this.

TEXT:  MADI!!!!! TEXT:  Pls tell me ur home.  911 WINE EMERGENCY TEXT: I finally broke up with my London fren  :(((((((((

***

And that was it. Talia remembered going home and Madi was there waiting and over-prepared with everything she could possibly think of to comfort Talia.  The big fleece Pikachu onesie, all the wines lined up, snacks, more snacks, all of Talia’s favourite movies ready to go, and Talia’s winey whiner playlist on Spotify.  Madi, who knew her so well, then spent the entire night hugging Talia as Talia vented and vented about Emmy, letting it all out. It was Madi, who finally convinced her to delete Emre’s number, and all his texts.

And Talia did, in the end.  A new beginning, and they’d cheered and had more wine and chocolate together.  Then Talia pretended to fall asleep on Madi, just so they’d spend the rest of the night on the couch, together.

And now, she was looking at the Flight 441 passenger manifest.  And Emre’s name was on it.  And Madi had gone searching for him.

When Aabha gets the call, she’s sitting in her regular nail salon. 

She’s not getting the same dark red she usually gets, and she later blames this change in habit for what happens next - her phone starts vibrating in her pocket and she apologizes when she tries to get it out without ruining the glorious, shiny lavender nail polish. Chandni, it says on the display, and the screen offers her one green and one red button. Aabha taps green, and lifts the phone to her ear. Her older sister is speaking Gujarati, and she’s violently sobbing, so violently, that Aabha cannot understand a word she says. “Calm.”, she says, and then waits for Chandni to calm down. This is bad. It really is. She isn’t sure if she’s heard the oldest Nanku sister cry before. “Is something with the girls, luv?”, she asks then, and glares at her nail lady, who keeps tugging on her hand. “Aabha.”, Chandni gasps out, and she can hear her two nieces yelling in the background. Her chest tightens. “Your husband?” She hands the lady double the money and leaves the salon with unfinished and messy nails. (Even years later, the color lavender will still make her feel sick and trapped.)

“No.” Chandni switches to English, and Aabha can hear her leaving the living room, or whatever room her nieces were playing in. “It’s Neshdan. There was a car crash.” Aabha pauses in the middle of the sidewalk. A grumpy old man runs into her and complains, but she completely disregards him. Suddenly, all she hears is white noise. It’s not that they are were best friends. It’s not that they willingly hang hung out with each other all the time. But Neshdan is was still her brother. “Okay.”, she says, in an attempt to calm herself down. “Okay.” It takes her ten minutes to get to her car, and when she’s finally sitting inside, she grips the steering wheel so hard that it makes little cracking noises. “And mum?” Aabha asks, “Has anyone told mum? Shya? Rahi? Naani? When will he get out of the hospital? How bad is it?” Chandni chokes on a cry. “Aabha, he was out near Thames, with that one doctor friend he has. He drowned, Aabha. They were’t even able to find his corpse.”

Aabha blacks out.

Four days later, she’s sitting on a couch, trapped between Rahi and Shya, and she’s being stared at by Nesh. He looks ugly in the picture her mother chose to display. Shya is crying. Her mother looks empty, and she has never seen her like this before. She’s lost her favorite child, of course, the golden boy. Rahi starts crying, too, and Aabha escapes, heels hitting the ground as she makes her way into the room she and Chandni used to share - it’s packed with childhood memories. 

Aabha uses one of her heeled feet to kick some of the boxes. Then she kicks the doorframe, and the bed, and the wall, and when her foot hurts so much that she can’t even move her toes anymore she stops and breaks down. She cries for five minutes, and then she promises herself to never cry ever again, not about Nesh, not about his death. 

The woman opens her eyes, and something catches her attention. It’s a picture that’s fallen onto the ground. It’s from one of the boxes she left in this room when she had moved apartments a while ago. She uses her arm to wipe tears and snot and messy makeup away, and looks at the picture. She’s surprised to see his face, she really is. She hasn’t thought of him in ages (A lie. She thinks of him every time she sits in her car and has to drive for longer than an hour, and she remembers his hands on the steering wheel, remembers his slang and his words and his eyes and his lips. Sometimes she thinks of him at night, when she’s alone in her bed and her apartment is so quiet and sickeningly empty.) “My getaway car.”, she croaks out and rushed to pull her phone out of her bag, but when she dials his number and calls him up;

“The number you have dialed is not in service.”

She waits a moment, then she throws the picture away, angry, mad, fuming, and dials Nesh’s number. She hasn’t called him in months. Hasn’t spoken to him in ages, not since last year’s Diwali.

“You have reached the mailbox of: Neshdan Nanku! Currently not available, leave a message after the tone.”

The beep is deafening in Aabha’s ears, and she throws the phone across the room. Then, after five minutes she raises from where she was sitting, and she picks up the phone to dial a third number.

Lila picks up immediately.

“Hello? Who is this?”, she asks, and Aabha immediately regrets calling. “Of course you have already deleted my number, you snake.”, she spits into the phone, “You’re a fucking bitch. I hate you with my whole heart. I will destroy you and your life as soon as you get the chance.” She’s yelling now, completely furious, “Neshdan is dead! Nesh is dead and it’s all your fault” She hangs up and doesn’t hear the gasp Lila lets out, and now she’s crying bitter tears. Chandni enters the room, but she doesn’t even hear, doesn’t even notice. Her heart aches so badly that it almost falls out her chest, and now that she’s said the words out loud, it finally feels realer than it did before. She’s crying in her sisters arms, bitter tears and violent sobs, and she’s repeating the words over and over again: He’s dead. We’re all alone now.

She sits through the ceremony that they have to do without a body, and through tears and hugs and words from family members and strangers.