The Vaticinator

by Namita Singh

mutter, smiling but shaking my head.

  Neal huffs, “Says the guy who likes to cuddle.”

  I splutter, “You never mind it!”

  “Hard to ‘mind’ when you cling to me like a leech.”

  “Guys?” Aakir’s amused voice interrupts my comeback. “Our flight just got announced. If you guys are done with your flirting…” he smirks.

  My whole face burns red. I completely forgot about father and Aakir. Father is standing a few steps ahead, his eyes on me. Faintly smiling, amusingly if I have any say, but otherwise saying nothing. I roll my eyes as I get up. Neal is more verbal about his disapproval.

  “Go and sext with your girl, Aakir.”

  Aakir playfully glares back. Father calls us before they can get into another playful banter. As we settle in our seats on the flight, I can’t help but have Aakir’s taunt re-running in my mind. I can’t help but notice that yes, yes, Neal and I were kind of flirting. It’s not as irritating as amusing the realization is. But it is still enough a thing to cause me discomfort as I squirm in my seat and glance away from Neal who is sitting beside me, towards the aisle side (yes, I called shotgun this time).

  But stepping onto Latvian land, all the worry eases from our minds. It doesn’t matter if I have actually started to flirt with Neal, however unintentional it may be. It doesn’t matter how clingy, literally, I am when it comes to touching Neal. And it doesn’t matter how comfortable we seem to be getting with these things. Back in Latvia, surrounded by the flourish green of Liepāja, with the cool wind bellowing from the direction of the sea; surrounded by my family, my mother, uncle, aunt, hell even aunt Gwen; ridiculously jostling around with my siblings and watching with overwhelming joy how enthusiastically, how much with alacrity they welcome Neal as if he is one of our own. Even more so how welcoming Neal is of my family; all for my sake.

  That. That is exactly what matters.

  To be continued…