Short Story – Chained to Shadows Part 3
He found himself looking for ways to make her smile.
He brought her a dress. The yellow colour was bright as a spring morning and he heard her hum a little as she worked in the kitchen.
The cast came off. To celebrate he took her out to dinner.
‘It’s charming.’ She said, sitting down and looking around the restaurant. The whole décor had been done to imitate the Mughal period, gold screens and ornate chairs indicative of the style.
The mood of being outside, the ambience of the place, stole over him, lightening him slightly.
‘You have been cooped up in the house too long.’ He remarked.
‘So have you.’
‘I get out more. There’s office.’
‘You’ve been working too hard these days.’ He hadn’t known she had noticed. ‘Before…when Sonya was alive you both used to go out such a lot and even with me… You must miss her so much.’ Her golden eyes, soulful and sad, held his and he wished for a second, he could drown his sorrow just looking into them.
Instinctively he drew back. He felt himself closing up. Trying to wall her off.
‘What would you like to eat, Amber? They make good prawn pakoras here.’ He changed the subject.
He saw her eyes dim as she sensed his withdrawal. He cursed silently.
‘Sorry.’ His hand covered hers. ‘I’m not used to talking much. Sonya understood it. She never pressed.’
‘But you can’t keep it in forever, Victor. Shared grief is less of a load.’
He had shared it. With her of all people. The tears he had let escape that day still haunted him. Had she felt them? What had made him let go like that?
Her clear gaze couldn’t be evaded or ignored. He took a deep breath. ‘I just don’t have the habit of exhibiting my feelings. In my childhood, my parents always reprimanded me for chattering. One didn’t talk about inane things and I just haven’t got it in me to share what I feel.’
‘They didn’t talk to you about their day or their problems? Ask you how yours went?’ She saw his head shake. ‘Then what did you talk about?’
His mouth twisted wryly. ‘More important things. The current state of economy. How the literature world is falling apart because of vanity publishing. Who is slated to be the better political leader? My father was a double PhD, my mom was a historian. They couldn’t be bothered about the usual doings kids have in their day. If I made the winning goal at football or got my ankle twisted dodging the boys, they didn’t want to know about it.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’
‘Well, maybe ‘cos I have ears.’ She quipped.
The food arrived. Victor saw her reach out as she served him as well. His gaze fell on her hand. The scars rose on the skin extending up to her forearm. Prominent like ugly ridges in some places.
‘You should have surgery done on your scars. They can be treated, I’m sure.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m used to them now. They don’t bother me. If anyone is paying more attention to these, they probably don’t have enough of it for me.’
He looked at her, something in her tone prompting him to ask, ‘Have you ever loved, Amber?’ He realized that despite the fact that he’d lived with her almost the same length of time as with Sonya, he didn’t know much about her.
She didn’t meet his gaze, concentrating on playing with the gravy in her dish with her spoon. ‘Yes.’ she said at last, ‘But he didn’t have time for me. I was nothing to him. So, I never gave it another thought.’ She looked up. ‘I don’t believe in wasting time where it is not worth it. Better to spend it in my embroidering than in mooning after a man. At least my embroidery will give someone some pleasure.’
‘You’re a talented artist.’ He acknowledged. He had seen her work. Through the threads, she brought alive the myriad hues of flowers, a sunset or a brilliant peacock. ‘I guess you made the right decision about that man.’
For a second their glances locked. He had an unreal sensation of going out of the moment. Something in her gaze tugged at him, sad and lonely. Then she smiled brightly and asked him to pass the prawn pakoras.
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