Not Him

Part 8

I was throwing up into the toilet commode. The breakfast I just had. It was muli ke parathe again. And Aarohi was rubbing my back.

"You know you should not have eaten it if it was going to make you sick." She said.

I wanted to talk back to her, but I threw up a bit more. And that seemed to be the last bit of it, so I sat up. A burped up some gas. The thing made me sick with gastritis every time. But it was funny how the same thing makes me sick. Because it was supposed to be Other Rahul's favourites and it has never made him sick. And it was still his digestive system in me, and it still made me sick.

"Are you going to throw up more?" Aarohi asked.

"No. I think I am done." I said, getting up. I flushed the toilet and washed my mouth at the washbasin. Aarohi had gone out of the toilet. She came back in with a glass of water.

"Here." She handed me the water. I took it and drank it. It has been two months since I have started living here in this house and this was the third time this happened.

"You should not eat it if it makes you sick like this," Aarohi said.

"Who was the one who told me to shut up and eat it even if I have to throw up later?" I taunted her. We still enjoyed our taunts and push-pull relationship. But we have become a lot more comfortable around each other. She is the person I spend most of the time with nowadays. I see her college, I see her at home. And she is tutoring me on the subject of Rahul, about his past – his friends in school, friends outside. Who is who. Etc. Also, she is helping me with my studies as well. I found out it was not all that hard, since every semester subject is different and some are just independent. She gave me a base idea and the rest was not impossibly hard.

"But if it's making you sick..." Aarohi said.

"It makes mom happy," I told her. "And it's one thing that I need to keep in check to keep pretending to be your Rahul. I am not going to get noticed by mom and dad and bring misery to them."

Aarohi was looking at me with a new kind of look I have never seen on her face. An appreciation or thankfulness.

"What?" I asked her.

"I guess you are not fully an asshole after all." She said and turned around.

"Took you long enough," I called after her. I followed her back to the kitchen. It was a Saturday. The parents had gone for a job. We were alone at home.

So I watched her as I watched TV. I mean, I was supposed to be watching TV. The TV was on at least. But I was watching her in her room. Her door was open. And she was on her bed, reading a book.

After a while, she looked up from the book at me. I looked away. But I was sure that she caught me looking. She did not say or react or do anything. She kept reading her book. So after a while, I watched her again.

Sometimes I feel she lets me watch her. She knows that I am looking at her. But she never reacts.

After a while, she got up and came and sat by me on the couch in front of the TV.

"You know it gets creepy after a while." She said.

"I know." I understood what she is referring to. I smiled to myself.

"What are you watching?" She asked.

"Nothing in particular," I said.

"Do you mind if I change the channel?"

"Go on." I pushed the remote to her. She browsed through the channels, as I was again, watching her... Her skin is kind of brown too, not dark, just sort of tan. And it makes me feel wanting to touch her. That does not help at all when I was trying to restrain myself.