AMBEDO

The frail threads of wool scraped the magenta t-shirt she had been latched onto since a week. 

She rotated her neck and then stretched but the friction near her shoulder did not disappear. The mug of coffee, that tasted worse than those distributed in styrofoam cups back at her job, slid against her lips as she took another sip. Tasteless; like water. But it glided down her throat effortlessly. She adjusted the v-neck slipover that would look better on the coarse couch, but she was too enervated to pull it off. 

The snowfall descended with like-mindedness. The intricate patterns divergent yet harmoniously swaying. The glass glazed over and the snow kept falling. No intention of gaining a moment of respite. A coat of white softness cast a spell of cessation outside but she felt subjected under its influence. Perhaps oblivious to its surroundings, the clouds kept giving and giving. And in a daze, the snow kept falling and falling.

Her lips touched the rim of the mug again but all she did was inhale the nasally, rusty smell it waved off. The crystal drops trailing her cheeks were long gone now. No trace left behind, save the red flush spread across her nose and its adjacent areas. She swallowed a non-existent lump in her throat and waited. Unwillingly.

The 12-inch portrait inclined against the brown cabinet-top growled from where it rested. Indiscernible chains held it taut, preventing it from leaping into the air, weilding a sword of guilt sinking it deep into the girl who was currently forecasting something similar. Those chains were rattling at the moment, receptive to only the girl who could eye it from her peripheral view. As the clattering grew louder, she stepped back and enveloped the slipover tighter around her shoulders. She jerked her arm but paused midway, feeling her shoulder would rip off if she twisted in the wrong angle. 

Their faces enhancing the frame were clear and distinctly expressive. The chatter and pillow fights echoed inside her until they touched her soul, and then contorted into screams and malicious intentions. She took another sip and looked away. But the blow had been attained. Late movie nights, spilled popcorn, recreating favorite movie scenes, sharing ice cream tubs and anchoring onto each other when their Grandmother died. Memories spilled onto each other, piling up into a tower susceptible to falling by a single breath. That breath came in the form of a lawyer. Precisely, in the form of her Grandma’s will.

And just like that, the tears made an appearance again. Like unwanted side-characters that had you finishing your chores that were being postponed again and again. Consequently, she took to refilling her coffee mug. 

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Their emerging silhouettes were generating colors as shadows morphed into flesh and bones. She blinked and shook herself with a now-empty-mug secured in her hand. But the impending doom was unregistered by the reverie she was drenched in. The climbing hopes of innocence and idealism besmirched into dust as she grasped their grim faces. Like usual, they flipped out shiny black Identification Cards before she nodded and they entered. The detective unlocked her paradoxical safe haven letting the others enter before he re-locked the polished door.

She settled down on the couch tightening the slipover around her shoulders. Unbothered, she waited. The basic moral courtesies were prevalent in her mind, but she couldn’t afford to be aggravated by making more coffee for them. Or biscuits that were probably stale by now. They shuffled around, checking around for bugs until they were satisfied. The multiple of them settled down in front of her, but only one spoke.

“We have tracked down most of your family members.” He stiffly pulled out a manila envelope and then a photograph from it. “You’ve seen her before?”

Pink streaks with a pale baby face The woman was entering an elevator and had turned to look into the camera. She looked lively and kind. A perfect candid picture. Her favorite.

Her hands caressed the blue streaks wrapped in a bun. They had gone to the salon together, deciding which color would suit them on the way over. She looked at the man giving him what he thought was an encouraging smile. It just made her feel more exasperated.

But she spoke with smooth articulation, ”Yes, she’s my cousin. Daughter of Mother’s sister.”

The man nodded pleased. ”She was seen around the rehab facility.”

“You’re saying she’s a drug addict?” She wanted to smack him on the head. The last week in loneliness and silence had left her aching for social interactions. Or maybe some result that would lead to an escape from this cold prison. But this man was talking nonsense. She twisted her neck lightly but the crick near her shoulders would not go away.    

The man shook his head, ”I’m saying your brother is a drug addict.” She flinched.” A piece of information you so conveniently forgot to mention.”

She sighed,’ He’s admitted. He can't do anything from a steel building.”

“A steel building this cousin of yours frequently visits.”     

She knew this was inevitable, since he had mentioned her cousin’s rendezvous to a ‘rehab facility’. But the girl who had chosen the pink color for her cousin’s hair, while driving a car to the salon was still holding onto a thread of hope. That maybe one family member was on her side.

“What are you trying to say?” She met his eyes daring him to continue. “ Don’t talk without substantial proof.”

He nodded as if that was expected. He nodded at one of the men. A bald one with large, popping eyes who rose and left with a button phone tucked near his ear. The clearing of a throat returned her gaze to the stiff man who adjusted his coat and then spoke,”It’s time you visited your brother, Kiara.”

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They surrounded the house like a battery of barracudas, waiting with vacant expressions for her to pack her meagre materials and leave. She stood near the door looking out at the white expanse of empty coldness. The clouds had stopped giving which left her slightly disturbed as the numbness in her body started to fade away. One shoulder was lifted slightly higher than the other in imbalance. She twisted her neck again but froze returning it to its initial state. 

With high-knee boots and her beige overcoat encompassing her form, she took a step outside. Her right foot impressed deep into the thick snow. She inhaled deeply wondering which road she had stepped foot on.