Balaji sat across the room, holding his head, oblivious to his surroundings. The red vase with dying lilacs was the only living thing in the room, he thought. He had promised a million times that he would never touch another bottle.
The brandy smell made him sick. He felt another pang as he opened the phone to see Google Photos reminding him of memories that he did not want to visit again. The smile of the girl he loved and the smell of liquor felt the same. He was a gone man. Every day followed the same toxic routine.
He made a promise that he would not drink, and as evening came, the demons would whisper. He would resist for a moment. He would imagine overcoming the temptation, and then he would remember her. The pain would come flooding in, his worthlessness magnified by the myriad voices in his head that would influence him to have just a sip. He would fight back. He would think about why she left, the obvious answer was his drinking problem.
Then the memory of that day came rushing in.
It was raining, and the cold winds made the car windshield blurry, making it impossible to drive. She sat agitated.
“This is why I said I would not be coming,” she said curtly.
“Hey, how was I supposed to know that it would rain?” he too replied angrily. Logic does not work in fights. He would have to deal with this problem deftly. He handed her the gift she had asked for, a red vase.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I did not think this would happen.” He stared at her. She wore a black saree, and her heaving chest was inviting. He wanted to kiss her, but it would be a risk that would ruin everything. So, he began to fidget with his phone, trying to get rid of the thoughts. He moved his hands to hold her, but she pushed them aside.
“Don’t you think about anything else?” she said it curtly. He did not reply, no matter what he said, it would be turned against him.
“I am sorry,” he once again said. He had said thousands of sorries in their past two-year relationship. She was a mix of kindness and terror. When she wanted him, she would talk kindly, hold his hands, and kiss him.
He started the car as the rain had subsided, and as the car was moving, he noticed she kept receiving texts.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“A friend,” she said without looking up.
“From work?” He asked, trying to hide his annoyance.
“Yes,” she smiled, looking at the mobile.
“Why are you this way?” he said in a pleading manner.
“What way?” she asked, putting her phone down.
“Nothing…” he changed gears and slowed down. Water was rising high, making it difficult to see the road.
“I think we have to stop for a while. I can hardly see the road,” he said, parked under a tree that was slightly elevated from the road.
“Oh great…” she sighed.
“What is your problem?” He asked, grabbing the handbrake tightly.
“What problem…nothing…” she smiled.
This was the difficult part. She could change in a minute. She slid her hands to his lap and moved them closer to his thigh. Balaji was excited, and all his annoyance vanished.
“You want me…” she said, looking into his eyes.
“Yes,” Balaji moved closer.
“No, no, no… you can never have me… I don’t want you,” she laughed, moving close and whispering in his ear. “I am in love with him,” she said, showing a boy’s photo. The water kept rising, but his heart kept drowning. It was the hardest ride. He left her in a cafe, and, with tears filling his eyes, went to meet his friends. They immediately knew what would make him better.
They took him to their room and poured something slimy that he had never seen.
“Drink,” they said.
“No,” he said.
“Drink,” they commanded. “It will make you better.”
He sipped, and then he drowned in it.
Balaji woke up with a searing headache. The lilacs were fresh today. The smell of brandy made him sick. “No more,” he cried. “This is the day.” He heard her laugh, then pain came flooding in, and he collapsed.
Balaji woke up with a searing headache. The lilacs were gone. The smell of brandy made him sick. “No more, it is over,” he cried. He could hear Ramya crying. It was raining once more. The water was rising.
“Stop the car, see, there is a tree,” she pleaded with him.
He stopped.
“Look at you, Balaji, how can you take care of me,” she cried. “In this condition.”
“I want you…”
“Yes… but I don’t want you this way…”
“You are drunk, the smell is making me sick. I shouldn’t have come with you. It is getting late…”
He grabbed her and tried to kiss her. “Let me go,”
In a fit of anger and desperation, she opened the gift she had just brought, a red vase, and hit him hard on his head. Blood came oozing out of his head. He ran his hands through his hair, soaking it with blood.
The effects of liquor all vanished in a second, and the pain slowly engulfed him. He could see Ramya crying. “I am sorry, I am sorry…” she kept saying.
The waters kept rising, but Ramya jumped out of the car and ran. He lay there in pain, and then he woke up with a searing headache. The red vase had a rose. The smell of brandy made him sick. He stood up and walked towards the door. He opened it, and there stood Ramya, smiling.
“You cannot leave this hell, honey,” and she raised the vase and hit his head.
The infinity loop of memories once again started…
Copyrighted @ Ronald Hadrian D 2024