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Chapter 16- Hardly Trespassing.
The minute I saw him open that door, tears were in my eyes. I couldn't help it really. I'm not sure why those tears were but hell, they were there.
He pulled me inside, where I cried less openly. I didn't bother to wipe my face for I knew only more would follow their way down.
"Kripa." Angad said, touching my arm.
"Don't touch me!" I roared, he backed away.
"After all that we've been through, can you really be mad at us?" Angad asked, calmly.
"No, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself. I'm so stupid!" I yelled. "To trust you guys, no. To trust you!" I said, looking at Aaliya, she had betrayed me too.
"And I shouldn't expect any better from you." I said to Angad. He stood calmly, as if waiting for me to say something.
"Prithvi, I must thank you though. You, by far, are the most sincere person in the room right now. You've proved to be a good friend." I said to him. I wanted to sound angry but my voice came out little and weak, strung out with tears. I hate crying.
I began to walk away, but instead I turned around and walked back into what used to be my room. Our room. I went into the cupboard, pulling out a file I had created hours before I died. I threw it onto the table in front of Angad.
"Sign." I commanded. He picked them up, looking at me in disbelief.
"Divorce?" He asked.
"You're a god damn widower, might as well be a divorcee so you won't get the sympathy." I said, distantly. He put them back. "I already signed, we've been separated for long enough for us to be over. As soon as you sign, it'll be over officially." I said, walking away.
"You do really think I meant all those things I said?" Angad said to me.
"Honestly, I don't care." I said, turning to look him in the eye.
"Yes you do." He said, sighing. I raised an eyebrow. "Let's see if you really can read me like a book." I said, pulling out a gun. "What am I going to do with this?" I asked him.
"I missed you." He said quietly.
"No Angad, don't even!" I yelled, feeling warm moisture streaming my face again.
"I can't believe you don't know me better than this." He says. I do. This emotional blackmail he was feeding me is all real. If anything, the words he said when I was outside the door were sheer bull. I'm too hurt to care.
"Screw you Angad! All of you. I don't care. This is all pointless. All of it. Screw training, to hell with the Gujraals. I don't want any damn revenge." I screamed, throwing my gun onto the floor. I reached down into my boot, where Aaliya's knife sat. I pulled it out and rammed it into the coffee table.
"Next time, use that to stab me in the back." I said to her, she looked down at it, searching for some unknown response that she was supposed to throw back at me. She never did come up with it.
Walking toward the door, I said behind my shoulder, "Why don't you try to find me now?" I said coldly mocking.
"Kripa, where are you going?" Prithvi asked me. He called me Kripa.
I shouted behind me, "Somewhere away from here. You were right. Family?" I scoffed laughing.
"Kripa, wait." Aaliya called. Walking through the door, my last words to the three were "My name is Kritika Sharma."
That was months ago. I flew to New York then. I live in an apartment on the corner of 15th and 17th street. I'm credited as Rachelle Dev. Odd name but I'm told it suits me. I haven't thought of any of them much lately, especially since I ditched my mission.
I have a new life here. I don't know anyone but I survive. I work in an office handling accounts for a public relations firm. I don't talk to anyone that I don't know and no one that doesn't know me talks to me. It's simple. Lonely, but simple.
I find peace at church and the children that play in the street in front of me. I live in an area full of Indians so it doesn't feel so foreign to me. It's still foreign but somewhat comforting.
"Aunty…." A small girl pulls me out of my trance, she pulls at the bottom of my skirt.
"Yes dear." I answer. She smiles widely at me, her front two teeth are missing. She is adorable, with curly brown hair and bangs that she is constantly swiping away from her face. Her eyes remind me of someone, they're deep brown, but so are every other child's.
"Could you help me clean this?" She asked, extending her hand. It was covered in blood, yes she smiled. I wide gash spread across her arm.
"Of course." I said concerned. "What happened?" I asked, in the same tone.
"Nothing to worry about." She assured like an older person would. "It's just a cut, I punched him though."
"Who?" I asked.
"The boy down the street, who sharpens knives for a living, he cut me. I punched him." She said, grinning. This girl was too much. I cleaned it for her and bandaged it.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"I don't know, probably around six." She answered. "Or something." She shrugged.
"What's your name?" I asked, tying the bandage into a knot.
"People call me different things, I don't know." She replied. She hissed, "too tight." She said, smiling weakly.
"Where are your parents?" I asked I seemed nosy but heck; this girl was so damn interesting.
"I don't have any….before you ask, I live down near the corner." She said, pointing to the street outside. The corner. Hmmm, "In this complex?"
"Nahin Aunty, I live at the corner." She said, replying as if I were silly.
"On the street? Oh, but your clothes….you speak Hindi?" I asked, confused.
"I stole them. I speak a lot of things." She grinned. Now I know who this girl reminds me of; she reminds me of myself.
"Stole them?" I ask, she nodded. "They're nice, nah?" I nod.
"Beta, what would you like your name to be?"
"Pata nahin…." She says, her voice trailing off. She brushed her hair away from her face. "Pick something for me."
"You're very pretty." I state. She shines as she smiles, "Thank you."
"How about….Naaz?" I ask. She grins, "Like pride?" I nod. She nods back, "Well, that's good because I'm a very proud person."
"As am I. You remind me of myself…" My voice trailed off.
"Except you have parents and a job and you don't steal food to live." She said, grinning.
"I used to. And I recently got a job. I don't have a family either. I used to live on the streets…."
"Here?" She asked. "It's tough surviving in New York." She said, expertly.
"No. In Mumbai. It's tough living there too." I said, laughing. I remembered my first robbery.
"Well, some of my friends, the ones with parents are from there. I live down there…." She said, pointing to the street corner out of the window.
"I live here." I said, glancing around my apartment.
"I live everywhere actually. Anywhere I can stay safe…." She said, rubbing the dressing on her wound.
"What did you get cut for?" I asked, watching her wince a bit.
"Oh, well Aslam…the boy who sharpens knives was beating up on this girl and I asked why and he cussed at me telling me it wasn't my business."
"So you punched him?" I asked, wondering if I would have done the same.
"Yeah. I hate when people cuss at me. Especially when they call me names…" She explained.
"Does he live around you?" I asked, she nodded. "It's okay though, I can take care of myself." She said, proudly.
"Would you like to live with me? I would love to adopt you." I ask, instinctively.
"I would like you to adopt me too but I'm afraid, in the system we live in….we don't really…adopt? It's a bit like common law; if I live with you then I'm yours." She exclaims.
"Well Naaz, we are girls so we should go do what girls do best…" I say, grinning. She frowns, "What is that?"
"Shopping, we both need new clothes. I'm buying."
"Buying. I've never done that before. But I'm sure you don't steal so…."
"Me, not steal? I don't think you know who you're talking to." I muse. She links her hand through mine, "Why are you some thief from India that fled the country?" She laughed. I glanced at her.
"You've no idea…" I rolled my eyes. We bought tons of clothes at a fairly large mall. We got lost a few times but Naaz is wonderful at finding her own way. She is adorable.
"So Aunty I don't know your name…." She said, sitting on my couch.
"Well, people here know me as Rachelle Dev but my name is actually Kripa Khanna or Kritika Sharma. Whichever you prefer…I don't care really." I said sighing.
"Three names? And I didn't even have one." She complained.
"It's not it's cracked up to be." I rolled my eyes.
"How come?" She asked, as I heard her stomach grumble. I look to her, "I'm not hungry yet. Tell me why."
"It's a long story…" I say, tired and hungry. Since when had my threshold for hunger gone down so?
"I'm not going anywhere." She said, grinning. I told her what I told you, from beginning to end. From my first robbery to my last encounter with my ex best friends, she sat and listened sympathetically.
"Ever since then, I haven't talked to any of them and I don't steal anymore."
"Hm…that's quite interesting." She said, expertly.
"I'm glad my life is interesting to someone, to me it's just plain dumb."
"Your life is kind of like mine so far. I steal."
"Not anymore you don't." I warned.
"What are you, my mother?" She joked, I glared at her.
"Am I?" I asked.
"Would you like to be?" She asked. I nodded. "Well, then you're my mom." She said.
"You're my daughter?" I asked, this was a huge responsibility. She nodded. Well, now I had a purpose in life that didn't require destroying anything.
"Cool." I said. "Cool." She echoed.
"Mom." She said, I looked up instantly. "Yeah?" I asked.
"You answered to it. Maa, Mom, Mum, you respond to it all, don't you?" She asked, amused.
"I respond to pretty much anything…" I said. "It's just the way I've been raised."
"You raised yourself." She noted. "Maa, I'm hungry. Let's go buy something to eat."
"I can cook." I said. She blushed a little, "Oh, I knew that." She said, embarrassed. She held her nose high. "I can cook too."
"You wanna cook together?" I asked, she nodded gallantly. We made our way to the kitchen, instantly she sat on the counter.
"I like your kitchen." She said, looking around from her throne on the counter. I laughed.
"I don't." I said, peeking into the fridge.
"Is there a secret family recipe you're going to teach me?" She asked, with too much interest.
"I don't have a family." I said.
"Neither do I." She said, sadly.
"Hey." I caught her attention.
"Huh?" She asked.
"We do now." I grinned. She flashed that toothless smile again. She was only missing one tooth but she showed all the other ones.
The minute I saw him open that door, tears were in my eyes. I couldn't help it really. I'm not sure why those tears were but hell, they were there.
He pulled me inside, where I cried less openly. I didn't bother to wipe my face for I knew only more would follow their way down.
"Kripa." Angad said, touching my arm.
"Don't touch me!" I roared, he backed away.
"After all that we've been through, can you really be mad at us?" Angad asked, calmly.
"No, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself. I'm so stupid!" I yelled. "To trust you guys, no. To trust you!" I said, looking at Aaliya, she had betrayed me too.
"And I shouldn't expect any better from you." I said to Angad. He stood calmly, as if waiting for me to say something.
"Prithvi, I must thank you though. You, by far, are the most sincere person in the room right now. You've proved to be a good friend." I said to him. I wanted to sound angry but my voice came out little and weak, strung out with tears. I hate crying.
I began to walk away, but instead I turned around and walked back into what used to be my room. Our room. I went into the cupboard, pulling out a file I had created hours before I died. I threw it onto the table in front of Angad.
"Sign." I commanded. He picked them up, looking at me in disbelief.
"Divorce?" He asked.
"You're a god damn widower, might as well be a divorcee so you won't get the sympathy." I said, distantly. He put them back. "I already signed, we've been separated for long enough for us to be over. As soon as you sign, it'll be over officially." I said, walking away.
"You do really think I meant all those things I said?" Angad said to me.
"Honestly, I don't care." I said, turning to look him in the eye.
"Yes you do." He said, sighing. I raised an eyebrow. "Let's see if you really can read me like a book." I said, pulling out a gun. "What am I going to do with this?" I asked him.
"I missed you." He said quietly.
"No Angad, don't even!" I yelled, feeling warm moisture streaming my face again.
"I can't believe you don't know me better than this." He says. I do. This emotional blackmail he was feeding me is all real. If anything, the words he said when I was outside the door were sheer bull. I'm too hurt to care.
"Screw you Angad! All of you. I don't care. This is all pointless. All of it. Screw training, to hell with the Gujraals. I don't want any damn revenge." I screamed, throwing my gun onto the floor. I reached down into my boot, where Aaliya's knife sat. I pulled it out and rammed it into the coffee table.
"Next time, use that to stab me in the back." I said to her, she looked down at it, searching for some unknown response that she was supposed to throw back at me. She never did come up with it.
Walking toward the door, I said behind my shoulder, "Why don't you try to find me now?" I said coldly mocking.
"Kripa, where are you going?" Prithvi asked me. He called me Kripa.
I shouted behind me, "Somewhere away from here. You were right. Family?" I scoffed laughing.
"Kripa, wait." Aaliya called. Walking through the door, my last words to the three were "My name is Kritika Sharma."
That was months ago. I flew to New York then. I live in an apartment on the corner of 15th and 17th street. I'm credited as Rachelle Dev. Odd name but I'm told it suits me. I haven't thought of any of them much lately, especially since I ditched my mission.
I have a new life here. I don't know anyone but I survive. I work in an office handling accounts for a public relations firm. I don't talk to anyone that I don't know and no one that doesn't know me talks to me. It's simple. Lonely, but simple.
I find peace at church and the children that play in the street in front of me. I live in an area full of Indians so it doesn't feel so foreign to me. It's still foreign but somewhat comforting.
"Aunty…." A small girl pulls me out of my trance, she pulls at the bottom of my skirt.
"Yes dear." I answer. She smiles widely at me, her front two teeth are missing. She is adorable, with curly brown hair and bangs that she is constantly swiping away from her face. Her eyes remind me of someone, they're deep brown, but so are every other child's.
"Could you help me clean this?" She asked, extending her hand. It was covered in blood, yes she smiled. I wide gash spread across her arm.
"Of course." I said concerned. "What happened?" I asked, in the same tone.
"Nothing to worry about." She assured like an older person would. "It's just a cut, I punched him though."
"Who?" I asked.
"The boy down the street, who sharpens knives for a living, he cut me. I punched him." She said, grinning. This girl was too much. I cleaned it for her and bandaged it.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"I don't know, probably around six." She answered. "Or something." She shrugged.
"What's your name?" I asked, tying the bandage into a knot.
"People call me different things, I don't know." She replied. She hissed, "too tight." She said, smiling weakly.
"Where are your parents?" I asked I seemed nosy but heck; this girl was so damn interesting.
"I don't have any….before you ask, I live down near the corner." She said, pointing to the street outside. The corner. Hmmm, "In this complex?"
"Nahin Aunty, I live at the corner." She said, replying as if I were silly.
"On the street? Oh, but your clothes….you speak Hindi?" I asked, confused.
"I stole them. I speak a lot of things." She grinned. Now I know who this girl reminds me of; she reminds me of myself.
"Stole them?" I ask, she nodded. "They're nice, nah?" I nod.
"Beta, what would you like your name to be?"
"Pata nahin…." She says, her voice trailing off. She brushed her hair away from her face. "Pick something for me."
"You're very pretty." I state. She shines as she smiles, "Thank you."
"How about….Naaz?" I ask. She grins, "Like pride?" I nod. She nods back, "Well, that's good because I'm a very proud person."
"As am I. You remind me of myself…" My voice trailed off.
"Except you have parents and a job and you don't steal food to live." She said, grinning.
"I used to. And I recently got a job. I don't have a family either. I used to live on the streets…."
"Here?" She asked. "It's tough surviving in New York." She said, expertly.
"No. In Mumbai. It's tough living there too." I said, laughing. I remembered my first robbery.
"Well, some of my friends, the ones with parents are from there. I live down there…." She said, pointing to the street corner out of the window.
"I live here." I said, glancing around my apartment.
"I live everywhere actually. Anywhere I can stay safe…." She said, rubbing the dressing on her wound.
"What did you get cut for?" I asked, watching her wince a bit.
"Oh, well Aslam…the boy who sharpens knives was beating up on this girl and I asked why and he cussed at me telling me it wasn't my business."
"So you punched him?" I asked, wondering if I would have done the same.
"Yeah. I hate when people cuss at me. Especially when they call me names…" She explained.
"Does he live around you?" I asked, she nodded. "It's okay though, I can take care of myself." She said, proudly.
"Would you like to live with me? I would love to adopt you." I ask, instinctively.
"I would like you to adopt me too but I'm afraid, in the system we live in….we don't really…adopt? It's a bit like common law; if I live with you then I'm yours." She exclaims.
"Well Naaz, we are girls so we should go do what girls do best…" I say, grinning. She frowns, "What is that?"
"Shopping, we both need new clothes. I'm buying."
"Buying. I've never done that before. But I'm sure you don't steal so…."
"Me, not steal? I don't think you know who you're talking to." I muse. She links her hand through mine, "Why are you some thief from India that fled the country?" She laughed. I glanced at her.
"You've no idea…" I rolled my eyes. We bought tons of clothes at a fairly large mall. We got lost a few times but Naaz is wonderful at finding her own way. She is adorable.
"So Aunty I don't know your name…." She said, sitting on my couch.
"Well, people here know me as Rachelle Dev but my name is actually Kripa Khanna or Kritika Sharma. Whichever you prefer…I don't care really." I said sighing.
"Three names? And I didn't even have one." She complained.
"It's not it's cracked up to be." I rolled my eyes.
"How come?" She asked, as I heard her stomach grumble. I look to her, "I'm not hungry yet. Tell me why."
"It's a long story…" I say, tired and hungry. Since when had my threshold for hunger gone down so?
"I'm not going anywhere." She said, grinning. I told her what I told you, from beginning to end. From my first robbery to my last encounter with my ex best friends, she sat and listened sympathetically.
"Ever since then, I haven't talked to any of them and I don't steal anymore."
"Hm…that's quite interesting." She said, expertly.
"I'm glad my life is interesting to someone, to me it's just plain dumb."
"Your life is kind of like mine so far. I steal."
"Not anymore you don't." I warned.
"What are you, my mother?" She joked, I glared at her.
"Am I?" I asked.
"Would you like to be?" She asked. I nodded. "Well, then you're my mom." She said.
"You're my daughter?" I asked, this was a huge responsibility. She nodded. Well, now I had a purpose in life that didn't require destroying anything.
"Cool." I said. "Cool." She echoed.
"Mom." She said, I looked up instantly. "Yeah?" I asked.
"You answered to it. Maa, Mom, Mum, you respond to it all, don't you?" She asked, amused.
"I respond to pretty much anything…" I said. "It's just the way I've been raised."
"You raised yourself." She noted. "Maa, I'm hungry. Let's go buy something to eat."
"I can cook." I said. She blushed a little, "Oh, I knew that." She said, embarrassed. She held her nose high. "I can cook too."
"You wanna cook together?" I asked, she nodded gallantly. We made our way to the kitchen, instantly she sat on the counter.
"I like your kitchen." She said, looking around from her throne on the counter. I laughed.
"I don't." I said, peeking into the fridge.
"Is there a secret family recipe you're going to teach me?" She asked, with too much interest.
"I don't have a family." I said.
"Neither do I." She said, sadly.
"Hey." I caught her attention.
"Huh?" She asked.
"We do now." I grinned. She flashed that toothless smile again. She was only missing one tooth but she showed all the other ones.
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