And it felt good to cry

You looked out the window and, not for the first time, thought about how wrong the weather forecast had been.

You thought it best to shut all the windows of the house because of the invading waters, and then went to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. Huge drops of rain were tapping against the glass, creating a raucous, but not an unwelcome one. You sat with your coffee and a half-read book, merrily enjoying the background sound. It felt good to be away from technology and gadgets for a while, to be surrounded by the peaceful chaos of your soul. The yellowish pages felt rough against your fingertips. The scent of the rainy weather, mixed with that of the book, relaxed you to the core. But this feeling was soon interrupted by the ring of your phone. 

You were not exactly pleased with that interruption. It could be from work. It was the last day of your sick leave; perhaps they knew you were already feeling fine. But it wasn't from work. You looked at the phone screen with a tentative expression.

"Maybe she wanted to call some other Ravi. Why would she call me. Should I pick it up?"

You decided to take that call. It could be important.

"Ravi," said a familiar voice on the other end, "Can you pick Yash up from the school. I'm stuck here with my client. I don't want the poor child to walk home in this rain."

That familiar voice was of your ex-wife, Shivani, who had the custody of the only child your marriage produced.

"What about the school bus?" you inquired.

"What school bus?" she spoke hurriedly, "The school bus doesn't pick him. I do. But I can't today. Please Ravi."

"Yes, yes! Okay! I'll get him."

Even though your relationship with Shivani was not very cordial, you could never refuse to do something for your dearest little boy you loved with all your heart. 

You took your car and drove to his school as swiftly as the shackles of road regulations could afford. You have never been the person to disregard the law. It had been several months since the last time you had visited Yash's school. And you remembered that last time pretty well. After that, everything had gone downhill. You stopped the car in front of the school gate. Yash was standing right there, taking shelter under the umbrella of a fellow classmate. He smiled when he saw you through the watery glass. You opened the door for him and he climbed inside. He heaved his school bag in the back and gazed at your face with a glimmer in his eyes.

"Am I to go back home with you?" he asked innocently.

"Do you want to?" you asked.

"Will mommy be there?" he asked, continuing the thread of difficult questions.

"No," you said, "She's busy. She asked me to pick you up. I can either drop you off at your Nana's place or I can take you...home...with me. Whatever you want."

He thought for a while, his countenance growing sadder with every passing second.

"I'll come with you," he finally said, "I miss home. I miss you."

You were trying to keep your emotions in check. It would be very dangerous to drive with a curtain of tears blurring your vision. 

"I miss you too," you replied, "I'm sorry I can't do anything about it."

"I love you both equally," Yash said, almost on the verge of crying, "I wish I could somehow go back in time."

"I know it's hard for you," you told him, "But life doesn't always turn out the way you want it to, you know."

"That's why I don't want to grow up."

"It's not a choice dear," you said, trying hard to force a smile, "Adulthood is not exactly bad. It's just a bit challenging. But there are so many good things to be thankful for. Like, at least I can talk to you whenever I want to."

"Don't you wish for everything to be normal again?" he asked again.

"I wish," you said, "But life goes on kid."

"I'm not a kid."

"Yes, you are. You're fourteen."

"But I'm not a kid," he laughed. It was a light laugh, but it eased down the tension a bit.

You unlocked the door of your apartment and let Yash in. He threw himself on the couch and took the television remote, just like the old times. After eating a few cheese sandwiches with him, you began to mull over how hard it can be to explain certain circumstances to children. You felt sorry for Yash. Things had just not turned out well for you and Shivani, and there wasn't anything that could be done about it now. It was too late to rectify some mistakes. But you knew you'd always be there for Yash whenever he would need your support because that's the least you can do. You can't undo the past, but you can always make sure the future is better. 

Shivani showed up two hours later and Yash went with her. He was a little sad to depart, but he put on a brave face. He was right when he had said he wasn't a kid anymore. Tough times make one wiser than their age. You knew he would grow up to be a strong man, maybe a better husband and a better father than you could ever be.

You were once again left alone to fight your thoughts. That's what solitude sometimes brought, a whirlpool of thoughts. It wasn't raining outside anymore. You felt something on your cheek. A single drop of tear had made its way out of your eye. You had always been the one to hold back your tears, but for once, you did not stop them, as they oozed out from your soul. You let the tears flow, and it felt good to cry. Yes, it felt good to cry.