Caged Nightingale

70-Atif

Its been two weeks. Nothing.

Sitting in the 4x4, I look out of the window. Lahore in the early morning hours really is something. The hum drum of school traffic. Everything from mini vans, motor cycles and expensive saloons taxing uniformed kids. But the real traffic will probably start at 10 ish.
The heat, which should be stifling, is pleasant, after the chill of Scotland, it feels almost tropical. Its rained over night and the smell of damp earth sits sluggishly in the air. The rain puddles are drying in the morning heat.
Being back should be a relief but I can't fight this feeling of defeat.
I haven't seen Saara since that day at her parents house. When her father and I walked out of his office, she had gone. She didn't return to the hotel. Didn't appear at the train station liked I expected- to come to Scotland with me. Didn't appear at the airport as I secretly hoped.
Hope has dwindled. All that's left in its place is this dried out carcass of despair. I could have sworn she cared for me - clearly I was wrong. Perhaps it was my pride that stopped me from calling her parents, to check her whereabouts. Stoically, I went ahead with our original plan, each moment hating myself for believing I could have had any kind of relationship with her.
"Take me to the office." I say in a low sullen voice.
Mohsin glances at me through the rear view mirror to confirm he's heard me correctly and then nods. 8 hour flight and I want to go to work. I know what he's thinking.  I turn to look back out the window and instead of the buzz of the city which was comforting minutes ago, all I see is decay. A palate of dust.
The silence in the car is disturbed by the intermittent buzzing on my phone as I'm inundated with emails, voicemail notifications and watsapp messages.   My solumn silence fills the car with grim dispair. Stubbornly, I turn back to the window. Refusing to acknowledge this ache in my chest. Feels like waves of crushing disappointment.  I'm fine, then I'm not.
"Actually, take me home." I say knowing I'm just putting off the inevitable.  I'm going to have to face it sooner or later. I'm going to have to force myself to look back at the places where we were together and try not to think of the imprint Saara has left there. I'm going to have to get used to it being mine again and not ours.
It was always mine, but I wanted to share it with her.  Felt a strange sense of ease that I could. She turned it into a home. My worst fear is the residue of her remaining, being unable to exist in that place without being haunted by her memories.  Will I ever watch TV without thinking of her laughter? Sleep in  my bed alone without the reassuring sound of her gentle breathing? Sit on the veranda without thinking of her reciting Ode To A Nightingale by Keats. What were the words? "Cease upon the midnight with no pain" and something about "now is seems fit to die". That voice; soothing and warm. Those words had seeped into me soul. It all feels like a "waking dream now," too good to have been true.