Sheila’s eyes widened when she looked up to see Roy staring at her. He had the clear, unsuspecting look of a person who was open, guileless, and ready to take on the world for her. She was used to these looks of his. They had always served a purpose in their relationship. He wanted her to help out with something, or expected a favour from her. These looks were indictment of the way their relationship played out, through moments crisp and genuine, funny and poignant.
“Rahul’s coming over for dinner.”
“What?”she asked distractedly, glancing up from her book with the distracted air of one hovering between indecision and no-nonsense refusal.
“Rahul. You know him. Archita’s boyfriend. You remember Archita. I had set them up.”
Of course she knew Archita. Pretty, buxom Archita with eyes as wide as a deer’s and the sweetness of a lost era muffled in her quiet, staccato breaths and mild-mannered aura. The girl who owned a library which was larger than the size of any bookstore her side of town.
“But I thought they broke up.”
“Yeah, just about a week back. Did Archita say anything to you?”
“No, you had mentioned it,” said Sheila, slightly annoyed by the fact that he had forgotten. That he didn’t care to remember the small things any longer. The small moments which were strung like pearls around the common necklace which was their common life together, precious and neat, gentle and sweet. Commonplace and mundane it may be, but he had never forgotten anything till now. This was the first time he had a major lapse in memory.
“Well, tell me something,” she whimpered. ”Why did you invite him without asking me?”
“I forgot,”he murmured, without looking up. It was a blatant lie, couched in the tone of subdued and apologetic sense of misplaced guilt. She saw through this too. She always saw through him.
“Well, so I’ll forget to make dinner. Let’s order from outside," she retorted.
He didn’t seem to hear. He was really acting very strange, she thought.
“Well? Why don’t you say something?”
He was quiet for a long time. She was beginning to get scared. Silences from him were unusual, and that too, such long, creepy ones.
She got up and looked him in the eye. His eyes were moist and his breaths were rather fast.
“What’s the matter? You might as well spill it out.”
“Sheila, I…I…,”he was quiet again. But then, he finally broke the silence.
“I think we need a break. I can’t do this any longer.”
She sank down slowly to her knees. This was unexpected, this was tragically sad, this was hauntingly disturbing. Words revolved in her head, as they always did when she was too shocked or numb to react emotionally. The walls she had built over the months, the ones he had broken down with his deft touch, now came back in her reaction. She was almost stoic in her apathy, in her detachment.
“Won’t you say something?”he said meekly. He was gazing at her without shame, with the same keenness to gauge her thoughts. As in love, as in breakup, she thought. No excess emotion, no drama, no spilling over of guts in an effort to orchestrate the perfect moment and preserve in collective memory. It just was. The space which he afforded her was neutral in its complacent character.
“Why?”she finally breathed, not trusting herself to look at his hazel brown eyes and the way they would pierce her soul into tiny shreds of dissonance, leaving her a broken mess of conflicting emotions. He had always had the power over her and he knew it. This time, she wouldn’t let him win.
She would be as matter-of-fact as possible.
“It’s Archita, isn’t it? You love her, “she said calmly, the thought striking her as suddenly as lightning strikes the sky on a stormy evening in the summer.
“Yes, “he murmured.” It’s her. I am in love with her.”
She nodded, sitting on her chair.”I thought so. The timing. And you always had an eye on her.” She spoke calmly, in short, crisp sentences. The flow, smooth and narrow. The inflections missing. The emotions drained out of her.
“Can you forgive me?”
She nodded, pretending to be engrossed in her book already. After all, they had been together only six months. She was trying to imagine life without him again, life as a pattern which she had forsaken, now to be revived again, the monotony of it all.
“I think I’ll take a shower and prepare for the dinner. You can move out with your stuff tomorrow.”
He had expected her to be practical, but not so pragmatic. Not so measured. For an instant, he was hurt. His ego crumpled like paper set to flames. He watched her leave the room, steady and cool, no hesitations, no broken pleadings.
He was not in love with Archita. He was surprised she could think of it. She wasn't his type at all. He just needed a break. He just needed some time, some space of his own. He was only twenty seven. The future was not his to measure out in coffee spoons. But if she wanted to believe that, let him. It might make her feel better, he thought. Little did she know how she was torn apart but didn't want to show it - she had too much pride. The breakdown would happen behind closed doors, not in front of him.
He was distracted from his uneasy thoughts by a message flashing on his cellphone. “Safe to try my luck with her tonight?” After all, Rahul had broken up with Archita and was looking for a rebound.
He typed back,”Yes. She’s a heartless bitch. Go for it."