The Inherited Custody

CHAPTER X

Nothing much had happened.

After a silence that followed forever— not really, just an hour long, but that hour could be divided into several bits of milliseconds and seconds that could last for an infinity; Rumi rose from the couch and walked quietly, his feet rubbing the cold floor, shut the door and then walked towards his now father's bedroom. He saw the figure tiredly lump and asleep. He saw the body ever so slightly swell with oxygen then relieve itself of it.

He then marched by the bed, on the side that remained empty for a couple of years, and sank onto it's soft invitation. He'd never felt so sleepy in his entire life. A heavy weariness made its way across his face and the shoulder slumped. He let himself get consumed by it all and his upper body flopped down, his face hitting the pillow that still somewhat smelt like his mother.

His legs jiggled under the leftover covers and the eyelids dipped onto each other. Everything went away again.

He heard his father sigh mildly, as if in appreciation, as if Rustom knew that his son was there, close to him, beside him. And for the first time in a while, at his arm's reach. But their backs still remained against each other. Between them, on the mattress that stretched with a deep blue sheet, lay a slim copy of Maya Angelou's Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water 'fore I Diiie, open. The pages flitted. 107. It reads— Childhood's absence has not stilled your voice.

With darkness in his sight, he smiled and decided to take Baba to the beach at noon for a walk. And then to the cafeteria. Rustom's Cafè. They would have tea together. And breakfast. He imagined the lips of his father spread from it's corners across the old face, the graying hair dancing. He imagined his mother smiling at them. The noise of the city would eventually reign through the house. He heard the birds chirp, sit on the balustrade of the veranda, the bells of bicycles of the milkmen, the loud gong that echoed from the temple opposite to the area. The mind drifted off in the noise.

Far away, the sun had returned with all it's glory. The horizon lit red, the waves of the waters retreating to their body, the rays of the sun spilling liquid gold onto the sea. The rays kissed the tallest trees first, then the skyscrapers, and eventually began to touch the ground, the fens. The fishes began to rise and touch the bright surface above. The fishermen threw their nets onto them, trapping them, then capturing the lives and pulling them out, taking away their breath. They tumble and bounce, until life retracts.

A fisherman was pulling out a full, heavily soaked net. A child from the closest shore began screaming for him, "Baba! Baba! Baba!"

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THE END

A/N: Thank you so much for reading 'The Inherited Custody.'  Writing this novel(la) has been a great relief and joy. I began writing it in March of 2020 and the fact that I got this far, 1.4 years away now is unbelievable. If you have any feedback, comment, suggestions, please do not hesitate to write them to me. You can also reach out to my social media handle:
IG: @amaranthine.poetry

Thanks Again!