Straight Through The Curves

Prologue: The Introvert believes that 'Guilt' is a powerful emotion. She writes a story about a guilty man, who pleads for forgiveness of a woman. A woman who reminds him of the past. A past that cannot be altered. This note is a figment of The Introvert's thoughts.

The clouds above roared like a lion. It had been raining cats and dogs for the past 2 hours. I sped my car through the torrential deluge; I was awfully late. The headlights weren't strong enough to limn the road; I barely managed to stay on track. I used to love the rains as a child, but once they poured with such vigour, that everything I had, was washed away. It was painful to be nostalgic of those memories, I snapped myself out of my anguish and focused on the blurry outline of the roads. After driving for a few minutes, my navigator asserted, "In 200 meters your destination will be on the left." I parked the car by the kerb, turned the ignition off and got out with my umbrella. I stood in front of a huge wrought iron gate with over 10 feet walls on either side. The guard on duty greeted me and asked, "You had to come even in this rain?" "I had to, there's nobody other than her I have in my life", I replied while signing the visitor's roster. The guard gave me a sad smile, handed me the pass and buzzed the electric doors to let me in.

I followed the long hallway up to the visitor's room where I requested the nurse for a short meeting. She seemed vexed at my request, arguing that visiting hours would end in another 10 minutes. I begged her to allow this visit, promising to be on time in the future. She instructed me to wait in the adjacent common room and unwillingly left. The common room was small consisting a small television for entertainment and a few indoor games for the people housed in the building. It was gloomy and dingy. At this hour, I could see only a motley of old and haggard people. They sat there, defeated by life, waiting for the inevitable. Occasionally needing somebody's support to perform their daily chores, requiring constant prodding, sometimes even harsh measures, to take their medications. These deranged souls were not felicitous to live among the civilised insanity of the world and hence, were kept at arm's length from it. This place, these living conditions, I never liked them, but it has been five years since I started these weekly visits, and over time I have gotten used to them.

The nurse opened the door, and I saw her come in with an old lady, feeble, walking slowly maintaining her balance using the nurse. I helped the nurse get the lady on a chair. The nurse warned me about the time constraint and left us. I looked at the woman in front of me; she had grown old, her once beautiful features fading behind the wrinkles and deep lines. Her pensive eyes were not focusing on anything in particular as if she were lost in some deep thought. She was alive, yet her soul was dead. She was human, yet there was nothing humane about her.

I sat on the chair across her, smiled awkwardly and said, "Hello Sam!" That's what I always used to call her. There was no reply. "Do you know what day is it?" She didn't budge an inch. She always took pride in the way she dressed, clean and impressive. "First impression is the last impression", she used to boast. Today, the clothes she was wearing were ragged and dirty. Her hair unkempt, with a tinge of grey in them. Time had taken a toll on her. I took her hands in mine; they were rough. I could feel my throat swell, the pain of watching her this way was unbearable. "I want you at your best to impress my colleagues," I said getting ready for an office party years ago. "Yes sweety, I just have to buy Kohl. I know you love it when I wear it and I'd do anything for you John!" she said, kissing my forehead, as she finished buttoning my shirt. Her eyes were sapphire blue but didn't have the dark Kohl. Instead, I could only see the agony in them. After a few moments, she looked straight into my eyes, and almost whispered, "Where is Joshua? Where is my son? Why didn't you get him along?" She hadn't forgotten him. He was her life, she had nurtured him with all her love and pride, but that year when she lost him, something within her died too. I couldn't hold my tears too long. I cried there, right in front of her, yet she had no remorse. She kept questioning, "Where is Joshua? Did he have homework to complete?" I hugged her tightly and sobbed like a baby.

I wish I could answer her questions, but I had none. She frantically broke free from me and began screaming as if she had realised something. "You killed him, didn't you!!! You killed my Joshua!! Go away!!! I hate you!!" The nurse and a ward boy barged into the room on hearing the wails. They tried to calm her down and hold her, but she struggled vehemently. The nurse ordered me to leave at once as she prepared to inject Sam with a sedative. I couldn't bear to see any more, I turned around and began to leave. Sam continued her diatribe against me, "You murderer!! Why are you even alive!! It should have been you, not my Joshua!!"

I ran across the hallway to the gate and then to the road where I had left my car. I sat in the car, motionless, tears still streaming down my cheeks. The mention of Joshua brought those agonizing memories back. I remember that day, five years back, when Sam had asked me to pick Josh from school. It was one of the heaviest rains the city had ever witnessed; it was a cloud burst. Every route was flooded, and the city had come to a stand still. The road outside his school was submerged in water, waist deep. Umbrella in one hand and my 10-year-old son in the other, I tripped over an open manhole. The currents of the water were too strong, and I lost my balance. I fell into the muddy water, but before I could regain my footing, I had lost Josh. I searched for my little kid the whole night, the fear of losing him, turning into a reality every passing second. Next morning, when the water had drained, I found his cold body, lying still in a corner. I tried to wake him up, called out his name several times but he did not repond. Joshua was no more. 

The sight of her only son's corpse was too horrific for her to bear. The agony had taken over her mind, there was nothing left in it. She did not shed a tear nor lambaste the heavens for stealing her son. Everday after that, she sat idly at the doorstep looking out eagerly for Joshua to return from school. I realised that she could never again be the beloved wife she was to me once. That day, I had lost Sam as well.

Sam's words kept repeating in my head, "It should have been you!!" as I sat crying even more, wishing it was me. I had become so poor in life that all I had was money. I lived alone in the city now. I made weekly visits to meet the only person I love in this world, but she wasn't the same. It was I who snatched her Joshua from this world, so she believed! I had hoped that Samantha would forgive me today, on the occasion of our 17th wedding anniversary, but this too has met the same fate as the previous five. I wiped my tears, took a deep breath, and started the ignition. The rain had receded now, but the road was slippery down the hill. One had to be careful while turning those sharp curves. For me, however, that didn't matter, because I was just going to drive straight through them!