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Chapter 1
If there was one thing my district attorney mother had taught it me, it was to never sign a document (not even an autograph) without reading first. And of course, I did not listen.
I was young and in love. His prenuptial agreement sounded nothing short of a blessing to me. This meant he really wanted me in his life. That he really cared for me. So with eyes half open, I signed off on every cross he pointed to.
I was bewitched by his smile and that low sounding voice that told me, "you won't get a share in my company, you realize that right?"
"Of course", I muttered.
I didn't need his money. A girl who lived out of a suitcase all her life never needed anything more than two kind words. But there was more than met the eye (as is often the case with fine print).
Oh how I wish I had wracked half my brain then. When time came for our divorce, I had not a penny to my name. All my accounts were wiped clean by him. Even the wheels of the suitcase I walked in with were broken and thrown outside his residence. I looked up at the skies, then back down at my still bloated tummy. My newborn infant had been torn away for me. Apparently, I had not only signed off on the custody rights, I had no visitation privileges either.
How it turned out this way, I do not know. But I do know that the biggest mistake of my life was to fall in love.
The first thing I did after leaving his side was check in to the nearest airport. Knowing my child was nearby crying for milk and I could do little more that sit by was an unbearable thought. So the next best option was to run away. Who knew these days even the airports aren't safe. I had already changed my milk stained tee twice and even booked a first class seat for the fear of encountering babies but somehow ended up sobbing the entire flight down. The babies are just too darned adorable and f**king flying first class! What luck! (Oh by the way, I sold my paintings for the travel money. In case you were wondering how broke mama is flying Swiss in a day).
Other than my flushed mood, the travel went without a hitch and I soon arrived in Zurich. My instinct told me it was time to consult an infectious disease hospital. I scanned the staff list as soon as I arrived looking for a reliable physician. My last one was nothing short of a magician. She'd managed to both calm my fears of infecting the baby and safely deliver him into this earth wearing a "negative" sign.
I can say with certainty that the happiest day of my life wasn't my wedding or the birth of our son, it was when the doctor screamed "negative" and hugged me tightly from the back. I cried and cried until the tears ran out. My fears were settled then. I could leave Rishabh with my mind at ease. And even though my child would have to suffer traveling between mummy and daddy it was better for everyone involved. Little did I know Rishabh did not share my sentiments. When I mentioned divorce out of the blue, it was like a switch flipped in his mind. He was out for vengeance. That was when he brought up the prenuptial contract. The one that he'd apparently hoped never to wave in front of me.
But he did. And just like that, I involuntarily severed all ties with my son and his dad.
I sometimes think it turned out okay. Even if my son doesn't see his mother, I can die happy knowing he has a good dad. Yes, death is a very real fear right now.
Don't worry I don't have cancer or anything. I can still push through a few years. I have something even more shameful.
I have
H.I.V.
The three words stared at me in red and black lettering like an other worldly monster printed on the information brochure. Apparently, there had been a contamination during my recent blood transfusion and a test was needed to confirm I was not infected.
As fate would have it, I most certainly was. I stared at the two red lines on a stick like I had just been issued a death sentence. I could sue, the lawyer said. The hospital shells out big money. I could even summon the press to have my case heard. I was free do as I pleased because they had made a mistake.
But the words fell deaf on my ears. I was not present in the same sphere as him. My thoughts were wandering to baby inside my stomach. What if he was at risk? What if I turned him untouchable even before birth?
I grabbed the offending doctor by the collar and lifted his feet from the ground.
"Make my baby okay. Make him okay. Make him okay!!" I dropped my weight on the ground and curled my hands around my feet as if that action would protect my vulnerable child. The nurses gave me a tranquilizer and the address of a specialist doctor that the perpetrating hospital would pay for.
I walked into this secluded clinic and poured my heart out to a middle aged woman.
"My husband is out of the country. How can I call him up to tell him...I dirtied my baby with my own blood? I dirtied him and now I am going to dirty my Rishabh. No, please help me".
She started me on anti-retrovirals that saved my son. But the same could not be said for my marriage. I avoided intimacy during pregnancy but the postpartum recovery period could only be so long. I had to bring up my illness and I could not pick up the courage to. I could not subject him to a danger so grave everyday. Even with all the precautions in the world, it was true that making love with me could mean sure death if anything went awry. So I picked up shop and flew to the land of the Swiss where I could end my suffering with dignity.
Here is my plan: live with medicine for as long as I can and end my life when it gets bad.
This way, I don't have to drag down another two lives with me. They can live safe and sound in my absence.
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