The Vaticinator

15. The Building Trust

I am, I believe, illegally sitting on the airplane which has just been declared to be landing at the airport of our destination. At first, I had again thought of reflecting on what kind of bizarre situations I have been landing myself into but then I thought, what the hell. I may continue to have insightful thoughts upon the reversal of my completely normal life but let’s be honest; it’s just a waste of time and my energy, not to mention my worrisome thoughts only to manage to make me feel more like a girl. And considering my potential gay status, it’s good if I do not acquiesce and surrender to my sappy thoughts. Besides I have realized that I am not exactly saddened at the thought of not going to school. So I let my case rest.

I look to my left only to find a tensed Aakir, his eyes fixed at a position diagonal from where he is sitting. I sigh. Neal and Aakir succeeded in their mission. A confused Silvia sitting two rows ahead of me is a proof. What none of us anticipated was the sudden melancholic state of Silvia upon her arrival with us. In a state of confoundedness and blurred conceptions, a highly bewildered Silvia listened to Aakir and agreed to jump off the cliff with us. But her assent doesn’t imply she is all dandy with it now. From the moment she stepped onto the airport in Latvia, she has been bawling her eyes out, more than once coming to the conclusion that she is making the wrong decision of coming with us. The ladies of our house comforted her to the best of their abilities but none managed to convince her that her decision is not wrong. Silvia is going to be completely flipped if she realizes this decision was not even hers to make.

Neal had looked embarrassed upon witnessing the dour state of Silvia, his impassive face that I have come to decipher sometimes, displayed him to be internally gnawing at his conscience at making an innocent girl acquiesce to something she may never have agreed to in her normal state of mind.

Hypocrite. I snort.

What? I can’t possibly be expected to feel all mushy to discover that my partner has a conscience after all. He had been in fact bending the wills of students of our high school for almost three years.

I look at my other side to find a softly snoring Neal, slumped against the window he has so demanded to sit right next to. And well, he snores too, for the record. I keep the information tucked away in my mind for a rainy day.

Every one of my family members is silent. Aakir is, of course, tense, dubious about the decision he has made regarding Silvia. Rahul is sitting next to him, completely oblivious, as if we are going off on a vacation. Faith on the other hand is still providing comfort intermittently to Silvia, both of whom are sitting together. My mother and Aunt Rufina have also taken their turns at explaining and assuaging Silvia. They didn’t succeed too well but Silvia is not literally bawling her eyes out now, settling to instead just occasionally sniff, failing against the betrayed trails of tear streaks. Father and Uncle Terry are sitting together, completely mute. The same silence is observed from David and Jennifer who are sitting in the front most row.

How in the world my family could manage all of us to be shipped to a new country, much less a new continent, within a span of a few hours is beyond my comprehension. My curiosity did spike up, making me ask Father and Uncle Terry about it. Both have muttered something about ‘contacts’ and ‘emergency’ and then both chose to busy themselves with some or the other work. Even now they are being shady. I mean, seriously?

But all of us have not come. Aunt Gwen is not with us. Now that had had me flipping out while departing from the house with Gwen aunt walking back inside the house. There was already a lot of chaos with everyone fretting over the abundant amount of belongings we are dragging with us; two suitcases alone carrying the innumerous books of my father’s library, some so old that they required to be packed with disinfectant with enough room space about them.