Mukesh took the bottle, hastily unscrewed the cap, and drank. He hadn’t even said thank you. He closed his eyes, took a deep gulp of putrid air, and stood up. ‘I will get the bus.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ He began to shake his head but she stopped him with: ‘Mukeshbhai, Naina would never forgive me if I let her husband go home on his own when he can barely walk.’
And then, in an instant, with the flick of a switch, Mukesh felt stupid – he felt frail. What if the young men could see him now? The ones who drove fast cars and never called him masa or fua. They would call him dada instead.
He clutched the bag again, for strength, for something. ‘Nilakshiben?’ he said, as they began to walk (he, hobble) towards the nearest bus stop, which was still too far away.
‘Yes, Mukeshbhai,’ she replied.
‘Thank you for helping me.’
‘As I said, Naina would never forgive me.’
‘Would you like to come in?’ Mukesh asked tentatively, standing on his doorstep, nervous. Nilakshi looked up at the house, her eyes wide.
‘No,’ she gave two small shakes of her head. ‘I shouldn’t, I’d better get back. But I am glad you are okay. You are okay now, yes?’
‘I’m doing much better, Nilakshiben,’ Mukesh smiled, pleased his heart rate had returned to normal during the bus ride.
‘Well, I hope to see you again soon. Very nice to see you after so long, Mukeshbhai,’ Nilakshi gave a small wave with her hand. ‘As I said, I can pop round soon and teach you how to make a proper brinjal bhaji. Just let me know.’
‘Naina used to make the best brinjal bhaji,’ Mukesh said absently, the book weighing heavily in his bag.
‘Ha, I remember. Well, this might not be quite as good, but better than nothing!’ Nilakshi’s voice went up an octave or so, and she nodded her head by way of goodbye.
Mukesh felt all stiff and awkward, and couldn’t quite work out whether it was because of the situation, or his muscles seizing up after the walk.
Shutting his front door behind him, from the hallway he spotted the photograph of Naina above the television, with a garland hanging across the top. He looked intently at her face. Had it changed? He thought her eyes were less carefree, now hiding something: disappointment, even anger?
His mind careened to Rebecca, imagining a portrait of her hanging in the hall at Manderley, always there, always watching.
He was being silly. If Naina were here she’d ask how Nilakshiben was, how she was coping. She’d probably ask him to take her a Tupperware of tepla. Naina had never been a jealous person. But Mukesh felt a stab of guilt anyway. The first thing he did was pull his book out of his bag, showing it to the photograph of Naina, secretly hoping it might bring her voice back to him, just for a moment, to reassure him, before placing it on his newly christened reading chair.
After all his exertions, Mukesh needed an afternoon nap. He turned the radio on, he often liked to listen to something as he fell asleep, and lay down heavily on his bed. He would be achey when he woke up. He had a moment of panic, wondering if he would even be able to get himself out of bed later, but decided that wasn’t something to worry about just yet. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
As he laid his head on the pillow, his thoughts began to drift. Today he had felt vibrant, alive, despite the muscle pain. He had felt seen, by Nilakshi, even by Harish for a bit, as a person in his own right, rather than just a burden, an elderly father to be checked in on every morning via a voicemail, as a human being with feelings and emotions and likes and dislikes, rather than just as a patient number on his GP’s register, or an item on each of his daughter’s to-do lists.
Moments later, feeling sated, resting his bones, Mukesh was asleep.
When Mukesh woke up again it was just turning dark, day was becoming night, the shadows stretching, and the light in the room was warm but slowly getting colder, emptier.
He looked automatically to his left, to Naina’s side. He hadn’t done that for a while now. But today, in the confusion after his unplanned nap, it could be any time. 1985 when they’d first moved here, with the three girls sleeping in the one room next door on mattresses laid on the floor. 1998 when two of the three daughters had moved out and Rohini had insisted she sleep in the downstairs room for some privacy – though the downstairs room had nothing but a screen of beads separating it from the kitchen. Or it could have been 2010, when Naina and Mukesh had adopted that same downstairs room for themselves, having just got used to being the only two in the house, finally enjoying being alone. Though Naina still loved company. Craved the days their only granddaughter, at the time, would visit, filling the house with life.
But it was 2019. The year Mukesh least hoped it would be. The second year of his life since Naina, the year that began without Naina and would end without Naina too. He rummaged in his bag, pulling out Rebecca. Even though the book had scared him half to death, he needed to be somewhere else for a while, beyond the confines of his little Wembley home, walking in someone else’s skin.
As he turned the pages, Mukesh met Mrs Danvers, the housekeeper, who so loved the first wife, Rebecca, and so hated the second wife, constantly reminding her and Mr de Winter that she would never fill her beloved Rebecca’s shoes. In an instant, Mrs Danvers took on a new life, a new meaning, for Mukesh. She was his own internal guilt. He stopped reading mid-sentence, and sat in deathly silence. Books were an escape. But Mukesh was learning that they weren’t always an escape in a good way. ‘I’m not forgetting Naina!’ he said out loud, to himself, to the judgemental Mrs Danvers. ‘I’m sorry, Naina,’ he said. ‘I am such an idiot. This book, it doesn’t mean anything.’
In response, he thought he heard Naina’s words through the still evening air: I know, Mukesh. But he couldn’t be sure if he was just hearing things, his imagination heightened by the story, telling him what he needed to hear after all.
PART IV
THE KITE RUNNER
by Khaled Hosseini
Chapter 13
ALEISHA
‘ALEISHA,’ BENNY CALLED AS he wiped down the tables. ‘What you up to this evening?’
‘Just going to the shops to get stuff for dinner,’ she replied, one foot already out the door. ‘But then literally no plans, Benny – what about you?’
Aleisha thought of the book stuffed in her bag – The Kite Runner. She didn’t want to admit it to him, but she was excited to have no plans, so she could just curl up with her book. To her, it was the closest thing she’d had to a plan in ages. Now, every morning, she read a chapter or two – every lunchtime she read some more – and she couldn’t sleep now until she’d turned the pages, revisited the characters who were becoming more real with every passing chapter.
‘I’m going on holiday!’ Benny did a little dance. Aleisha liked Benny – she never got to see him much, because their shifts rarely crossed over, but he was always so joyful.
‘All right for some! Where to?’
‘Ayia Napa!’
Benny was 40, and every summer he went on a lads’ holiday with his friends. Thermos Flask loved to mention it whenever Benny came up in conversation.
‘With my boys!’ Benny finished.
Aleisha giggled to herself.
‘You going away this summer?’
Aleisha shook her head. ‘Although you know, Benny,’ she said, pulling out her book. ‘Actually … I’m going to Kabul tonight.’ She waved The Kite Runner at him.
‘Oh, Aleisha! That book … it’s devastating, you know.’
‘Well, Benny, my life’s devastating. I’m seventeen and my forty-year-old colleague is going to Ayia Napa instead of me.’
‘Soz, hun. You win some, you lose some,’ Benny said, as he trotted out through the doors with a spring in his step.
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini – she liked the cover; two boys, arms around each other, a bright blue sky, a kite. From the back cover, Aleisha had learned it was about two best friends, Amir and Hassan, who want to
win the local kite-flying competition, but something will change both their lives for ever. Years later, Amir, who has moved from Afghanistan to America, realizes he must return to Kabul, for forgiveness, and for redemption.
Looking at that cover, it made her wonder – what happens to Hassan? What did Amir do? Benny’s words rang in her mind, ‘It’s devastating, you know,’ and she braced herself. She was putting a lot of trust into whoever had collated this list – but she’d loved To Kill a Mockingbird, and Rebecca too – they’d been so different, one so easy to read but with heartbreaking moments, the other dark and brooding, atmospheric. Rebecca had been one she read under the covers, terrified for young Mrs de Winter, the new wife at Manderley.
At first, she’d been blindly following the list, accepting the books without question. And now, she realized, reading them made every day go a bit quicker than the last. She had stopped using the list as a bookmark, and had replaced it in her phone case, to keep it as safe as possible. She didn’t want to lose it – she knew the books off by heart, even without her iPhone photo of it, but the physical list … it felt like some kind of lucky charm.
Aleisha took the book out of her tote bag in the corner shop, imaginatively named Corner Shop, and started to shove her ingredients in. She’d bought more than she needed because she couldn’t make up her mind. If the reading list had shown her anything, it was that she was shit at making decisions for herself.
‘No!’ the woman at the register said. ‘No, seriously, don’t show me that again.’
‘What?’ Aleisha looked up from her packing, confused.
‘That!’ The woman exclaimed, holding onions in one hand, pointing to The Kite Runner with the other.
Aleisha frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’ she said flatly.
‘That book killed me! It’s so hard to read. Honestly, do you want your mascara all down your face? It’s harrowing.’
Aleisha shrugged.
‘Honestly, it’s even worse than that film they made. The book … wow. I’m not going to tell you any more, your life is your life. But seriously, you better be in a super happy place before you pick it up.’
Aleisha gulped. How sad was this book? The onions rolled down the counter towards her; she grabbed the label with her nails and plonked them into her bag. ‘If you say so, thanks for the tip!’ She stuck a smile back on her face.
The lady continued to scan the rest of her shopping in silence.
‘Good to see a young girl reading,’ the woman muttered, a few moments later, as she threw two plastic bags towards Aleisha.
‘Lots of young people read,’ Aleisha replied, sharply. She thought of the teenagers she always saw in the library, the girl with the pink hair who came in sometimes, the student with the untied shoelaces, even Mia.
‘I know, but … it’s just nice to see it.’ The woman shrugged. ‘All these mod cons, mobile phones, video games … it’s been ages since I’ve seen someone your age with a book.’
Aleisha thought of herself – just a few weeks ago – never carrying a book unless it was a textbook. She had been one of those teenagers – always on her phone; barely looking where she was going, her face always down at the screen.
‘You’re right. But you know, books are cool again now.’ She smiled at the cashier, and packed up the other two bags, before waving goodbye and heading out. After just a few paces, she dropped the bags down and readjusted, using the time to get her strength back. God, she needed a granny trolley! She rolled her eyes at herself. The person this library was turning her into … seriously.
She drew in a breath and tried again just as someone jumped in front of her, blocking her way. A man, wearing a beanie, holding a fresh pack of cigarettes in one hand and a receipt in the other.
She looked at him as if to say, ‘I don’t want your cigarettes, and I don’t know what you’re doing, get out of my way’, but she said nothing. She looked at his face.
It was the guy. The guy she’d seen on the train.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Can I help you?’ he replied.
She looked back blankly. Her shoulders ached.
‘Here, you dropped this.’ He bent down to the concrete at her feet, where The Kite Runner was lying face up.
‘Thanks,’ she went to snatch it from him, but he pulled it just out of reach and turned the cover over in his hands. He flicked to the first page, nodding his head.
‘Harrow Road Library?’ he asked, almost to himself. ‘Is that place still open? I thought they closed it down years ago.’
‘It’s still open,’ Aleisha snapped. ‘I work there.’ She felt defensive; she didn’t know why.
‘Wow, you don’t look like a librarian to me.’ He laughed to himself, shyly. ‘Sorry, I don’t even know what I mean.’ He pushed the book towards her; she grabbed it from him as swiftly as she could. ‘I think your bags are heavy. I can help.’
‘No, I’m fine,’ she said; her fingers screamed in pain. She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the nervousness bubbling in her chest. She forced her feet to walk, step by step.
‘Honestly, I can help.’
‘I said I’m fine.’ Aleisha grimaced, the handles tearing through her skin.
‘Right, well, looks like you’re going in my direction anyway,’ he teased, half a step behind her. ‘So, if you’re actually a librarian, tell me … what’s that book about?’
Aleisha stopped, putting the bags on the floor once more to readjust. But before she could pick them up again, the boy-man swooped in and grabbed two of them.
‘Oh, great,’ Aleisha hissed under her breath.
‘Look, I just want to hear about the book. I’ll just carry these some of the way for you and then leave you alone for ever.’
Aleisha slung the final bag over her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ she said, ‘but I actually haven’t even started reading it. I only know what it says on the back of the book.’
‘That’s all right. What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Aleisha.’
‘Nice to meet you, Aleisha,’ he said. ‘I’m Zac by the way.’
Aleisha thought to herself, I didn’t ask but said, out loud, ‘Nice to meet you,’ feigning a casual air.
He smiled awkwardly. Was he as nervous as Aleisha? As he struggled with her bags, lagging slightly behind, she couldn’t help but hide a smile under her hand.
‘So,’ he said, catching up with her, trying to hide the fact he was out of breath. ‘You a big reader then?’
She took a moment before replying, thinking of the old man, Mr Patel, thinking of their chats about the books so far. She felt the list burning in her phone case. ‘Not really,’ she said, honestly. ‘It’s a new thing for me. But, yeah, I’m liking it.’
‘The Kite Runner … you think you’re ready for it?’
‘I thought you didn’t know anything about it.’
‘I’ve seen the film. It’s literally the saddest thing ever.’
‘That’s what the woman at the counter said.’
‘Well, we’re right. Sad ending too—’
‘Seriously! Don’t tell me! Why is everyone intent on spoiling it?’ she cut in, her eyes wide, surprised at her reaction. She felt relaxed now – this felt normal for a moment, walking side by side with a stranger, talking about a book.
He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not gonna spoil it for you. So …’ His eyes stayed locked on her. ‘What do you do when you’re not at the library?’
‘What is this? Married at First Sight or something?’
‘Sorry, I’m kind of intense.’
‘Yeah, you don’t say.’
‘So?’
She shrugged. ‘Why’s it any of your business?’
‘I mean, it’s not … I’m just making conversation.’ He shrugged, hobbling with the bags at his side. ‘What on earth is in these?’ he wheezed.
When they reached the end of her road, she stopped. ‘I’ll take them from here.’ She nodded down the roa
d. ‘I’m just down there.’
‘It’s all right, I can take them all the way, it’s fine.’
‘No,’ Aleisha said sharply, taken aback by her tone. ‘I’ll take them from here.’
He nodded, placed the bags gently on the floor, and stepped back, as though passing over a highly dangerous package.
‘Thanks, Zac,’ she said, breezily.
‘No problem, Aleisha. Hopefully I’ll see you again. Summers always feel a bit lonely for me, so, yeah, this has been nice.’
The boy-man headed off as she picked her bags up and started to shuffle them down the road to her house. She took one last look at him, taking in the shape of him – the guy from the train. She couldn’t quite believe her luck.
As she approached her house, she could see the windows shut, the darkness within, like Manderley, or Boo Radley’s house. But for this moment, it didn’t feel so daunting. She dropped the bags at her door as she fumbled for her keys, and saw The Kite Runner staring up at her from one of the bags, with the boy-man’s final words hanging in her mind. Summers always felt lonely for her too – but this one, this one felt a little less lonely than usual.
Chapter 14
MUKESH
BEEP. ‘PAPA, IT’S ROHINI. Harishfua has been calling me, and he’d like you to go to the mandir with him. No need to return my call, but just give him a ring, okay? I know you haven’t been for ages, and not on your own, but it’ll be good for you. Deepali, Vritti and I have all discussed and think you should go. Okay? Priya told me to tell you she loved the book, Wizard of Earthsea, I think it was called. She sends her love! Bye, Papa. Speak soon.’
BEEP. ‘Hi Dad, it’s Deepali. Rohini said Harishfua has been trying to get in touch? Why don’t you just go to the mandir? It’ll be nice, and a chance for you to eat a proper balanced meal for once. Okay? See you soon.’
Mukesh pulled his book out, settling himself on his seat, when the phone started to trill again. He looked up at it, and down at his book. ‘If they want me, they will leave a message, ne?’ he said to himself.
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