Today I took the MARTA to meet Dev at his Georgia Tech campus. He rarely ever came home to visit, partly because I work nights and weekends, and that was the only time he could spare from his busy schedule filled with classes and courses I understand nothing of.
The lady in the floral dress who sat next to me on MARTA looked inquiringly at my bag, which smelled of tamarind fish and paneer tikka. I turned my eyes away to escape the discomfort her glances created, only to find them settle upon the words printed at the other end of the coach - ''No food or drink allowed inside MARTA''. At that moment, the train stopped.
It was the Midtown station. Dev was waiting for me. Every time I saw him, he seemed taller, and I kept reminding myself that boys don’t really grow that much after high school. With his blue pullover and jeans, shoulder bag full of books, black curly hair and silver rimmed glasses, he looked too handsome, and too intellectual for anyone to guess he was my son. We walked to the closest Starbucks.
The only better customers for Starbucks than caffeine junkies, are mother-son duo caffeine junkies. Sometimes my eyes looked for signs of blame on strangers’ faces – and whether they were hiding their disapproval of my parenting skills. But most of them were completely absorbed in their books, or laptops, or conversations with fellow strangers. Dev began asking questions at once.
Is this the 10th year?
Yes, I replied, playing with the paper cup between my thin fingers.
Mom, why would you decide to do this now? You’re out of practice. And it doesn’t make sense to me that you picked Zin’s 10th anniversary for that.
There was a pause. I avoided his eyes and looked at my coffee.
~
It was almost 10 years ago that in the middle of a heated discussion, Zin snatched my coffee cup away and splashed it on the floor because I suddenly went silent and attempted to walk away. ''Coward'', he said. His cerulean eyes glared at me, and his arms locked me into his forced embrace. My shoulder had hurt for days.
He would drive out like a madman after every argument. Struggling to come to terms with my subliminal calmness, he rolled joints while driving, and often got home completely high. I never saw him like I used to before. We had hit the bottom of the roller coaster.
One night he did not return. What I had feared all these years, finally became a reality. Zin’s skillful tango with death over the years, the walks and the gaits and the turn of the necks – ended with an equally forceful finale.
His body was charred when they lifted the sheet, briefly.
His body was charred when they lifted the sheet, briefly.
~
I stirred the coffee in my cup.
I want you to know that I’m not playing with fire. All these years, I’ve had all the time to look back, like an artist stepping back to check his own painting, or a singer playing back their own songs. Perhaps what I needed was the confirmation that racing was an inescapable destiny for me. If I did not feel like it would be meaningless to live a life without feeling the rush of a hundred fifty miles per hour on my face, I would never race again.
Dev’s face slowly settled on my words. Listening, had always been his best trait.
The evening air drew streams of orange light over the table we were sitting. The people who had been there for a while were leaving now, while a new bunch were just coming in. I opened my bag and took three Tupperware boxes and put them in front of him.
Tamarind fish? Yum.
He looked every bit my son.
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