A Rather Long Short
Story. 2
Contd.
3 October 2013
After Emma and her companions had left the coffee-shop I sat
for a while staring vacantly at the rain and listening to the sound of the wind
outside. Somebody pushed the door and
the wind came gushing in, bringing the chill with it. I got up hastily, went to
the counter to pay for my coffee and the toast, gathered my raincoat from the
stand and stepped out of the café. When I looked around, there was no sign of
Emma and the party.
The next I ran into Emma was when I was returning home after
a tiring day. She was in her school-uniform and Charles was tagging along. I
was not sure if she would care to stop and speak, but Charles, who noticed me
before her, gave a tug at her skirt and pointed towards me. She stopped.
Charles was looking at her eagerly. He then offered to shake hands with me in
the most suave manner. I was not amused by the civil manners he put on for the
sake of starting a friendship with me. A bit of sadness came over me as I looked
into his eyes. In that fraction of a moment, I saw a pleading look in those
eyes. It touched me somewhere. I glanced at Emma quickly. Her eyes radiated a
surprise. I pulled Charles towards me and said, “What did one wall say to the
other wall?” Charles looked annoyed. He turned his face away from me in an
embarrassment, because this time he wanted me to take him seriously. He pressed
his foot hard on my toes. I winced and said,”Ouch!” Emma quickly pulled Charles
towards her and apologized on his behalf. In that struggle Charles tried to
press his foot harder on my toes and finally as he stepped off my foot he stood
away from me regarding me with white-hot dignity.
Emma did not try to conceal her embarrassment and anger as
she pulled him further away. “I am sorry; he got furious. He has a violent
temper.” In the meanwhile, Charles had stationed himself securely behind Emma
and continued to look at me keenly. He was clearly apprehensive and worried
that he had lost a friend. But that fugitive, pleading look I had seen in his
eyes before I had unwittingly offended him, had vanished. In its place, there
was despair. In his small world it could hurt and I knew how it hurts. I did
not let him know it and turned my attention to Emma. She was full of regret and
confusion.
I was overcome by a certain sadness and loneliness as they
stood before me as if asking me not to leave them so soon. I looked at the sky
which showed signs of a quick drizzle which might begin any moment. The café where
we had chanced to meet the other day was close by. I looked at Emma and asked
her if she would care for a cup of coffee as it would warm up Charles who
seemed to be shivering.
As we sat at the table with our coffee-mugs, I looked over
at Charles who had started to drink his coffee using both his hands on the mug,
staunchly refusing to look at me. Emma said all of a sudden, “My mother had a
tendency to spoil him. My father was always careful to see that we didn’t get
spoilt by her indulgence; he was especially careful about Charles.” She said it
almost in a whisper. I looked at both of
them carefully. A deep shadow had come over them as she said this. I didn’t
know what to say.
By now I could guess Emma fairly well; she would have
spurned any demonstration of kindliness and sympathy from me.
To be continued…
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