Ashmoor

Four

   |Nadia|

      Whatever cyclone swept the western shores made its way to me. Except, it wasn't a cyclone was it? It was a hurricane. They were the same things named differently depending on the locality on earth. In South Asia we had cyclones, in England we had hurricanes. Rarely of course, nothing to touch the pristine drizzled mornings of Britain, except maybe the hurricane of its governing body. But today I felt a cyclone in me.      

   I need to talk to you. Meet me at the cafe behind the kiosk in the mall.

   That was all the text said. Kazim didn't hedge around any bushes, if he needed to talk then he needed to talk. That didn't stop my nerves from filling with dread. When a person set out to privately investigate matters it was often they would hope that there wasn't anything to be found. But when it was, that was a whole other ballpark.

   We were to meet at Capers Lounge today. I was already there, two decks below, indulging in some non-intoxicating but close-enough beverage. I went through a coffee, then an espresso, and a coffee again. Anything to last me the night and keep my dreams at bay. My shaky hands fumbled with the item I was coveting like a holy book. 'The Time Machine' by H.G. Wells, a spectacular extrapolation of a 19th century class system brought to the many time periods the time traveller could dwell in. And all the while Nessa gabbed on about it in our last book club session, I wished I was in the book, controlling the contraption that would take me back to those I loved, for they were no longer in the present for me to reach.

   My evenings used to be full of birthday planning, clothes shopping, mending, planning graduation gifts and homework help. When Danyal was here he had his hands full with fractions, though he was more interested in the colours of the world. He would often paint or take pictures with his little Kodak his dad gave him on his seventh birthday. After his short lived life there was June, and she was at odds with me at times, but what mother-daughter relationship wasn't strained at times?

   Now my evenings were filled to the brim with books, the odd sort, the fun sort, the adventurous sort. I made sure to avoid the sad sort. At first we set up shop in an old Asian centre formally for multilingual and cultural get-togethers. We'd share the building on most evenings, on the ground floor, at times the first. Nowadays, we were like a travelling circus, flitting from place to place, never staying in one place for too long. Never wanting to see the strobe lights of reality breaking through our rose-tinted sunglasses.

   Lathered in morning primrose, I held the handle of the mug, the bubbles in the drink reminded me of smaller hands chasing them down sun-dabbed pavements. Did most mothers think of their kid's childhood? Was it all a big 'reminisce' of the golden days for us? I refused. I refused to just remember the good times, the easy times. Instead I remembered the head teacher summons, the write-ups and temporary exclusions, the tardy slips and the tears in the evenings, the slipping out of houses, the mother-daughter squabbles, the burnt toasts, the laughter, the jokes, the friendship, the smile on the last day. The most beautiful I had seen on her, pity it was on the phone, video call, how most of out communications resorted to those days. 'You wouldn't believe it, mum. I have something to tell you later.'

    Now, in all my waking dreams, I chased and screamed and banged against the door keeping me from reaching out and begging her. What did she want to say? Life's biggest regret was not knowing or having the chance and never doing. June spoke in such a jubilant way, a way that the rhythm of her voice picked up, a way in how her dad's eyes were bright against her tanned skin, how the flicks of her hair like mine bounced in waves. A way she hadn't looked at me in years, not since Danyal's passing. But I couldn't even grasp the folds of her sleeve or the smooth lock of her hair. 'You wouldn't believe it'. Yes, sweetheart, I wouldn't, I couldn't, I refused to think you're anywhere but somewhere happy now that you left us.