Part 3: Breadcrumbs
Everybody falls in love. But, every love story differs in its details and we had ours - the details that Humaira will never know or understand. I refuse to explain why I'm looking for her or the details and it comes as no surprise to me that she wouldn't reveal Zoya's whereabouts. Although, her refusal also confirms that she is indeed, aware of some breadcrumbs that might lead me to her and I breathe with a relief I had not felt in a while.
Her kids run around me, fighting among themselves on who would first sit on my lap, while Humaira goes inside to fetch me tea she'd insisted I have. I look around and remember the times Zoya had called out to her Khala, in hopes of calling my attention, that she was on her way to Humaira's house.
Another ten minutes go by, as Humaira leaves the house to answer a phone call from her husband, at the STD booth on the opposite side of the street. The rain has taken down the phone lines, she explains as she comes back into the house and hands me a hot cup of tea.
I'm not sure I like the tea, at first, but as I sip along, I realize that the warmth from the beverage is just what I want then.
"Asad bhai jaan, you are too late. She is gone and doesn't want to be found. Don't you get that?" Humaira's blunt anger shows in her tone, but, I don't react. Not yet. I don't tell her that Zoya left because she wanted to be found. Humaira needn't know of those details that is between Zoya and I. Between my wife and I.
"Its not what you think, Humaira. I understand your anger, but, things were different then."
"Oh! really?" Her brows narrow with eagerness even as she appears sullen, "What has changed now Asad miya? Why not before?"
"Nothing has changed much in reality. All those complications still remain just as they did then." I tell her, looking away, when in truth I'm still reluctant to share any of what had shifted in my life. "Its me. I have changed. Its one of those moments of life that you pass by and start seeing things different than you did the instant before."
She contemplates for a bit before she speaks again. "What if I tell you that she is happily married to a french man and wouldn't want you coming after her? Did you consider if that was perhaps why she didn't want to come back to visit her Khala?"
There is guilt in her eyes, as it wavers and I hold her gaze until I'm certain she is only lying to study my reactions. I give her nothing and take a few seconds to finish the tea.
I want to tell her that Zoya would never have another man in her life while she has already accepted me as her shohar. But, I don't tell Humaira that either. I believe in Zoya. However, I don't share that same faith in my fate - to always grant me everything I have desired for and so, I keep my silence for a bit.
"Well, I would want to see that for myself. If she is happily married, as you say she is, you should already know that I will never be the one to spoil that for her."
Her fingers move in circles as she twirls and twirls her dupatta around them. "I'm not so sure, Asad bhai." She says and pauses for another eternity. "Do leave your phone nos, bhai jaan. I will call in case I hear something," she says and waits for me to leave; to be convinced of her lies that they were spoken for the good of her friend.
I smile at that thought and place gift money in the hands of her children, before I'm out on the street again without answers. Alone in my search for her.
It is not until I reach the far end of the street that I turn to look back at the distance I had managed to walk mindlessly. Perhaps, its also my Khuda's wish that I do so, for I see Humaira walk in haste towards the phone booth with a small chit of paper in her hand. Without thought, I slide behind the lamp post and wait in the shadows until she has left the booth and gone inside her house once again.
Another thirty minutes later, as I seat myself in a cab to get to the airport, I find myself continuing to hold that initial belief that Humaira need not know many things.
She needn't know that I had paid the booth owner to let me have a look at the number she'd just then called in panic.
She also needn't know that when one thousand hadn't done the job, I had paid ten thousand to have the number and not once mentioned that he not tell Humaira I had asked for the number.
Humaira was not required to know that I was aware she'd called country code 509 to ascertain she'd done the right thing when she had been in doubt.
Also that, I was taking the next flight out of India to the same country she'd placed the call to, despite the fact that the place roiled in chaos these days.
Haiti or hell, it didn't matter. I was going wherever she was.
Edited by 6th.Element - 12 years ago
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