Forget-Me-Not : Bound by Secrets

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Eight

December 31, 2000; 3:23 pm

It was the last day of the month. Hell, it was the last day of the year. Geet couldn't believe time had flown by so fast. A whole year had come to an end, and she hadn't even realized. Tomorrow was now going to be a new year, a new day, a new beginning. Well, not for her. For her, it was going to be a reminder of her empty life and her empty house, her empty heart. She ignored the tears that were threatening to pour out of her eyes, and continued cleaning her room. She'd neglected house duties for too long now. It was time she pulled herself together, and figured out a way to get out of this mess.

She couldn't believe she was spending New Year alone. She'd never spent New Year alone. New Year had always been a happy occasion, a celebration. She remembered how beautiful it had been last year-her friends, her mother, their families... all of them together. Nostalgia pierced her heart, but she tried to block the longing. No, today she was going to do what she had to do-stay away and stay strong. She didn't want her friends to look at her miserable face and make out that something was wrong. That's why, she'd already lied and told them that she was going out with her mother tonight to visit some distant cousins. She'd lied and said that it was last minute.

Sighing, she dropped the dusting cloth and shook out her aching hands. Despite the pain, the scrubbing had kept her busy, kept her mind occupied. She didn't have to dwell on the unpleasantness of spending this New Year alone, or lying to her friends. Cleaning and arranging things in the house had kept her sane until now. She had no idea what she'd do when she finished cleaning. Maybe go to sleep, let her brain get some rest for today. She found no attraction in staying up or watching T.V. or listening to music. None of that was going to help.

As she got up from the floor, where she was kneeling to clean the lower level of her cupboard, she spotted the photo of her mother and father, and picked it up. They both looked young and beautiful, and very much in love. The memory that this photo depicted hadn't been shared by her. The people in the photo were not even remotely close to the parents she'd come to know. Her mother had never been that happy around her while she was growing up. Her father had died early, leaving her too young to remember him. All she had was her imagination, and the longing she felt of being closer to two people who'd brought her into this world.

With sudden resolution, she put the photo back and retreated from her cupboard. There was still work to do in the kitchen. She didn't feel like cooking, neither was she hungry, but it would give her something to do. Without thinking of how her mother would have made a scrumptious dinner if she'd been here, she urged herself to work her hands and make something festive. Halfway through the main course, the doorbell rang, signaling a visitor.

For a moment, Geet froze. She hadn't told her friends that she was home. Could it be them, by any chance? She didn't want to face their questions, not now. Not today. She wanted to be alone and wallow in her self-pity and misery.

When the bell didn't ring again, she relaxed a little. Maybe it wasn't them, after all.

Cautiously, she went to see if anyone was still at the door, and felt a jolt of surprise when she spotted the white envelope stuck in her doorframe. Before she even had it in her hands, Geet knew what it was. With trembling fingers, she retrieved the envelope and closed the door, flattening her back against it. Then eagerly, with almost an air of trepidation, she began reading her mother's letter.

The agony she felt was bitter-sweet. The fact that her mother had remembered her during New Year spread warmth through her being. But she knew that things were never getting better. The letter was hand delivered, sure. She just wondered who her mother had sent to do this. Until she convinced her mother of coming back, nothing was getting better. She read once again what her mother had written, then closed her eyes with gratitude and relief. At least she had an address this time. At least she could visit her mother and find out how she was doing.