Chapter 22
"I left with nothing but my grief and the lessons it carved into my soul—some sacrifices are never worth making."
Unknown
As the reality of what I had just been told sank in, I found myself feeling…nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
In what must have been a sudden wave of conscience and sympathy, the minster led me into the house, closely followed behind by my visiting relatives, and I allowed him.
I looked on as he asked them what happened and as they told him orion had just slumped as she prepared to go to the mosque for Friday (Jumu'ah) Prayer – "A special congregational prayer held on Fridays, replacing Dhuhr, with a sermon (Khutbah)"
I just stared into space as my husband asked questions and my uncles responded.
I couldn't say a word. I had no words; not on my lips nor in my head. Orion was dead. It seemed like a bad joke…a very distasteful one.
When my uncles left, it was the minister who saw them out. I couldn't even bring myself to rise to my feet.
"It's very unfortunate about your brother ," he said, when he returned to meet me, still sitting in the same position as when he left. "We will go to India tomorrow to see your family."
I looked up at him, my eyes flat. This had been the bait with which he'd caught me, and now it was gone. Or better still, wasted. Nine years, all for nothing.
"I suppose you'll want to go with some of your things," he continued, his eyes keenly searching my face for some kind of reaction, "to spend a few days?"
I shrugged and rose to my feet, walking away without another word.
Once in my room, I locked the door and just stared into nothingness, Aunt's words ringing in my ears.
If we had listened, by now, yes Orion would have been long dead, but at least my mother would have definitely been alive somehow.
I would have finished school and maybe even made it to the university. Worst case, I would have learnt a trade and probably gotten married.
No, I definitely would have gotten married by now, with probably a couple of children running around my feet.
But instead, I'd given it all up by force, he could live, only for him to still die in the end.
The one thing he used to force into this marriage without running away was gone.
It was so pathetic, it was almost laughable.
One thing was perfectly clear.
My time in this household had come to an end. It was time for me to return to whatever semblance of life I'd had before this whole fiasco.
By the next morning when madam maria knocked on my door, I had packed all my bags.
"Dear, I'm so sorry about your daughter," she said, holding me in a tearful embrace. "Your father must be devastated."
I nodded and shrugged. "He'll be fine. We'll all be fine."
She tipped my chin up. "I know it is painful, but you have to be strong. Be strong for him" she looked at my boxes. "Do you think leaving is a good idea?"
"I have no more reason to be here," was my tart answer.
"so if that was the case, then you should have left since," she retorted. " You need to make the years you have spent count. Don't leave here empty-handed!"
I stepped back and carried the lightest of my bags. I would have been better off leaving empty-handed, instead of with my innocence and hopes for a future shattered to pieces. "I'll ask Ahmed to come get the rest of my bags," I said, referring to one of the junior house stewards.
I had my first wave of emotion as I swept past her, saddened by the abruptness of our parting.
Even though we'd had our moments, madam Maria had been a mother figure to me over the years. But I couldn't linger any longer. While, indeed, New-York had become home for me, could I really stay now that my brother had finally passed away?
Walking past the domestic staff, I nodded and smiled in response to their greetings of sympathy.
I knew they all genuinely cared for me, and I was going to miss them, no doubt, but my time in the mansion was up.
The minister was waiting for me in the car, and there was a flicker on his face when I emerged with all my boxes. But he said nothing, and instead flipped open a newspaper to read. As my boxes were loaded in the boot, I took my seat beside him, somewhat reminiscent of the way we had sat when he brought me from America, nine years before.
As we made our way down the long driveway, I felt saddened that it was my last time seeing the place.
Even though it was not quite as pristine as it had been when I came, as a result of the minister declining wealth, it still stood regal and majestic, and I knew I would miss it very much.
I felt a pang of sadness as we passed my garden, its flowers in full bloom. Somehow, it didn't feel like I was going home…but leaving it.
The drive to the airport was a totally different one from the drive from it nine years before. It was an entirely different mood this time. Back then, the minister had been loving and attentive, but this time, we were both in our respective worlds; he was lost in the pages of his newspaper, and me staring out the window the whole time, looking at everything…but seeing nothing.
Upon arriving in India, I was thankful that my father had moved a few streets away from our former house a few years before, so the same people who had seen me leave weren't the ones to see me return; in mourning…and in disgrace.
Being an even richer neighbourhood than our last, the minister's ostentatious car was even more of a spectacle than it was in 1996.
The white Mercedes had given way to a shiny, metallic silver Range Rover. Even though he wasn't as wealthy as he'd once been, he was still determined to always put up a show. His cars and his trophy wife always had to look the part, and look the part we did.
We made our way past the throng of mourners and well-wishers in the compound and up the crooked stairs that led to my father's sitting room apartment.
With Orion mostly in school, he and Damien had upgraded to a duplex flat, which could even fit our immediate and extended family, talk more of dozens of people coming to commiserate with him on the loss of a child.
Thankfully, Francis had the good sense not to lug my several boxes out of the boot, as that would have definitely distracted everyone, and not in a good way.
The moment my father saw me, he let out a loud cry. I guess he was putting up a show for the guests. "O Zeynep , your brother has left me, oooo!"
I thought I would break down upon seeing my father. I thought the grief that had been eluding me would engulf me the moment I stepped into the house, but it didn't. Instead, I felt angry. Very angry.
But I knew I couldn't present myself as anything but a bereaved sister of the deceased, so I walked across the room to hug him, holding him as he cried, it looked pitiful.
He tearfully said to the minister, after I led him back to her chair. "Thank you for everything you did for us. Nobody can say that we didn't do everything we could to keep him alive and give him the best of life."
The minister gave him a small embrace,patting on the back. He said "Be strong. I can only imagine what it must be like to lose a child, and I'm sure you must be truly devastated. Try to be strong."
I looked away and saw Damien across the room, and in his eyes, I saw the same apathy that was in mine.
He gave me the barest of nods to acknowledge my presence and continued attending to more well-wishers as they entered the lavishly decorated space.
I didn't even know my father still knew so many people.
I spotted Orion's picture on a small table, and for the first time, tears, real tears, pooled in my eyes.
Not only did it take me back seven years to when my mother's picture had been mounted on the same table, it was the dose of reality I needed to let me know that my baby brother was truly dead.
The minister spent the next few hours playing the doting in-law, talking with guests and entertaining the drinks he had brought from America,several cartons of whiskeys and juice.
He waited until the sun started to set, before having Francis remove my boxes from the car.
"Take care of yourself," the minister said, pressing a fat envelope in my hand.
I watched him leave, and I didn't feel the sense of relief I thought I would.
Checking the envelope, I saw that he had left me one thousand dollars, which was generous on the one hand, and a mockery of all the years I had spent with him on the other.
"What's all this?" daimen asked, as I dragged my boxes upstairs. "So many bags for only a short visit. Or has your millionaire husband had his fill of you?"
I ignored him, not trusting the words that would come out of my mouth.
I tried to discreetly drag the boxes to the only empty bedroom in the house without rousing my father's attention, but failed woefully.
Even though he said nothing, I saw the unspoken question in his eyes, which, the minute the guests had reduced significantly, was unspoken no more