Four Years: The first year

20| Aly

It was getting late and was already dark when we were leaving from Covert, so George insisted that he'd drop me home. Well, not drop exactly considering we live in the same building and our apartments are right across from each other's. The drive to Covert is at least 2 hours because it's in the outers and needs to be concealed. It was around 11 P.M. and we were in his Jeep.

"I need to stop somewhere for a while. I hope you're fine with it," George said, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Sure," I replied.

It was almost pitch black tonight. The headlights of the jeep caused the only illumination on the road.
     He pulled up in front of a bungalow. A huge bungalow, almost a mansion. It had a large garden filled with red roses. A beautiful sight to behold, and its fragrance was just as lovely. It instilled calmness and raised spirits. If I lived here, I would never go inside.

George hopped off the Jeep and went inside. I followed right behind him. He asked me to sit down on the couch while he had to take care of something and that it wouldn't take long.

My mind wandered a bit while he's away and so did my eyes. This house was beautiful. It had a vintage and rustic look to it. It had many paintings and sculptures around. I could tell by the intricate designs on the wall that the owner of this place admired art. I stood up and started wandering around the place.
      I saw a framed photo that piqued my interest. It was a picture of two children. A girl and a boy. Both of them looked super cute. I assumed this was theirs or their parent's house. I looked closely at the picture and saw that the boy has blue eyes. It was George. It had to be. You won't find many blue-eyed Indians around.

Now, I was extraordinarily curious. I couldn't help but take a stroll around the place. I came across a room with the door open, so I walked in.
      There was a woman on the bed. She had an oxygen mask on her face and several tubes attached to her body. She laid there completely still. And somehow, being in this room was suffocating me. It felt like someone just grabbed my throat and I can't breathe. I was just about to leave the room when George walked in with a tray in his hands.

"What are you doing here?" He looked at me in complete and utter horror.

"I-I didn't- I'm-" I stuttered in response to the sudden change of environment, wrapping my head around the information.

"Get out." His voice, low and harsh and hit me like a thousand needles.

I nodded vigorously and got the hell out. My fast pace had me so clueless that I didn't even know where I was going. I didn't stop until I was outside. In the garden. I was pacing front and back, shivering with fear and anxiety. The piercing wind assaulting me from all directions. I took a deep breath to retain my composure.

It took a while for George to come out. As soon as I saw him, I started apologizing, "George, I'm so sorry. That was so wrong of me. I should have respected your privacy and I shouldn't have left my seat, let alone entered that room."

"Yeah, you shouldn't have", he said biting his lip, frustrated. He ran a hand through his face and then caught the back of his head. "Let's go. It's already very late." He said, not looking at me at all.

It's been an hour and we've been driving in silence. Not a word. I hadn't heard a single sound in an hour except the whooshing wind. A deep feeling of guilt washed over me for my actions. I don't know who that woman was, but the thought of her now made me scared. And sad. It was obvious that she was an important person in George's life. And to see a person you love in that condition must break his heart every time. 
      I wanted to talk to him. I wanted him to share with me. I wanted him to feel lighter. I wanted to tell him that it's okay. That everything will be alright. That he didn't have to suffer in silence. But I can't say anything because I know better than that. He will never share that with anyone, let alone me.