I heard my mother shout out my name while I was gathering myself out of the doors of shock.
The ruby ring. Missing. Gone.
A thousand questions arose in mu mind but all lead to one answer.
Mark Hannigal.
He was the one who gave it to me and he was the one with whom I was while the ring escaped my finger.
But I was afraid. Afraid if he gets to know about it. Afraid of his reaction. Afraid of his
anger.
I took a deep breath and hurried downstairs just to say goodbye to my mother and her husband and slam the gate to get out. I didn't want them to see my wet eyes.
I took the subway this time. Even if I'll be late, I won't mind. I was not ready to face
Mark and his red face staring at my ring finger. That ring was really important to him.
And I lost it. I wanted to kill myself. I even tried banging my head to the wall. But
somehow, I couldn't feel a thing. Maybe my got numb with panic.
When I reached school, it was hard to step into the premises. But then a hand touched my shoulder. For a moment I closed my eyes, not to stare in those dreamy eyes but all the way turned, it was not Mark. The hand was a weak and supposedly old looking with tender wrinkles on it. I spun around and saw Miss Mortimer, my ballet teacher with a fragile smile on her face.
"Good morning, Miss Mortimer."
"Good morning, sweet lady!" she exclaimed with pure joy. "Can we have a tiny little
talk if you may?" she added.
I gulped down. It must have been me bunking ballet classes a lot. She was a highly
convincing lady so I nodded in agreement. She headed towards a certain side of the
corridor as I followed her.
"So, I heard your heart is entangled with that of Mr. Hannigal, huh?"
My red face was what she was expecting as she laughed. But suddenly grave emotions enveloped her as she told me,
"Well, then I must tell you something. You are in a grave trouble, my dear. He is not a
normal American guy. He is …" and then she started smiling again.
"He is what?" I asked in suspicion.
"What?"
"You were saying something about Mark."
"Oh!" her voice reached a shrill. "Elegant boy, graceful dancing and such manners!
Oh!" And she skittered out into the staff section.
Bizarre lady, I thought.
I hurried everywhere to see if Mark was present, but I could not find him anywhere. I
couldn't find him in the halls, the cafeteria or even in the classes. Only one place was
left. OUR favorite place.
And there he was on the terrace. The sun's glare making a silhouette of his muscular
body and he gazing at the sun with the same fierce way. For a moment, he actually took all my breath away.
"Hi." He started. I got startled.
"How did you know it was me?" I asked.
He spun around, looked straight in my eyes and said,
"I felt you." And he kissed me on my cheek.
"You look horrified. Everything alright?"
I gulped the lump inside my throat and said,
"I…I am sorry. I don't know how his happened but…" I stared at his eyes. They were
stern more than curious. "I think I lost the ring you gave me." And I dug my face in my palms.
For some time, he didn't hold me at all. He stood like a statue looking at me with a
warm smile. I thought perhaps it was the silence before a calamity. But then he hugged me so tightly that I thought my rib cage would shatter in no time.
"I know." He said.
I opened my eyes wide open and looked at him. He looked at me like I was his favorite dish. Although I looked at him as if he was my dreams come true. He was indeed.
"What do you mean you know?"
"I didn't see the ring on your hand when you entered. I guessed wild." He said in
conviction.
I made a puppy face in order to ask him,
"So, you are not angry?"
"No, I think a misplaced cannot define my love for you, isn't it?"
I gaped at him. Mark Hannigal was not angry. Shocker. I rested my head still on his
chest while he said,
"Don't worry; you'll get your ring back."
I wanted to ask how but then the first bell rang and we had to reach the homeroom.
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"No!" screamed a shrill voice.
It came from the ballet studio. Miss Mortimer was screaming her throat out.
"Not like that and certainly not with that jump. Make a perfect V!" she shouted at one of the students.
I adored ballet dancing. It was graceful, elegant, fierce and beautiful at the same time.
But when it comes to doing it, I curse it as much. I saw Mark standing just beside. I
wondered why he agreed to do ballet rather than go for soccer. Some girls say he does it to be around me (which is indeed cute). Some boys say he's gay just like Scott Williams who always becomes the prince in the Swan lake routine. Of course I don't agree and at the end of the day, my curiosity stays unquenched.
This time I saw Mark's forehead was a bit red. I encountered worry immediately.
"What happened to your forehead?"
He looked at me, gave me a don't-worry shot and said he banged with the car's door
accidentally. I told him he was going clumsier day-by-day when Miss Mortimer looked at me and said,
"You!"
I sighed as she continued, "Let us see how you do a fouette."
I thought she was kidding. Fouette was the most difficult part of the whole dance. Even Anna Pavlova might have to practice it thousand times! I marveled at how awesome my day was going. But all the girls were standing there. Mark as well. I couldn't just say 'I cannot do it." I breathed deeply and tried to step in between. Before I could, Mark whispered slowly,
"Tu peux le faire." I couldn't understand him but my spine shivered in a chill. I stepped in the middle, made a V shape by my feet and breathed deeply. I can do this, I thought. I put my right feet first for a swan position. And then everything happened in a blink of an eye.
I started dancing in my own self. There was no music but somewhere in my distant
consciousness, I heard some ancient ballet music which made me swirl in it. After
certain turns, it was the time for the main step. The fouette. I was not confident about it.
But somewhere inside me, I heard a voice say, "Let me." I let the voice take control of
me. I didn't believe what happened afterwards.
I did a perfect fouette. I stretched my leg completely, folded it gracefully and did all this while ten turns. I couldn't believe it. This was not me. I fumbled and staggered while dancing. But I didn't let my concentration waver. I was enjoying it.
Suddenly the same voice inside my head said, "Need…to….fade…away."
The feel of the dance went with the voice and I lost my balance. My feet landed while
swirling. I had twisted my leg and I fell down. Before my head could bang with the
ground, Mark caught me and I lay on the soft cushion of his thighs.
My great fall lead everyone come out of the trance, including me.
"Oh, my, goodness!" Ms. Mortimer exclaimed.
"I'll take her to the nurse's room, Miss Mortimer." Mark volunteered.
The whole room was in a leaf-drop silence as I peeped from the back of Mark's
shoulder as he carried me away. There was surprise in the other's eyes but terror in
Miss Mortimer face.
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"It was a mesmerizing dance." Mark commented when we reached the nurse's room.
"Even I don't know how I did that."
Mark wanted to say something more but stopped himself.
He stopped just in front of the nurse's room and tried to put me down.
"Why are you putting me down?" I cried at him. I was afraid I might fall again in the
middle of the corridor.
Mark smiled. His face had a sort of pain which I failed to notice completely.
"Your feet is fine now, angel."
I gaped at the fact that he was indeed, correct. I could stand and walk without limping.
My leg wasn't sprained and I could walk like a normal human. It was confusing but the last few minutes were not less confusing at all.
"You have French class next, I think you should go." He said letting me go. I thought
whether he was angry with me. I tried to calm him down. But before I could say
anything, he hurriedly sat on the waiting chair of the nurse office.
"You alright, Mark?"
"Yeah, I am just, tired. Don't worry. You go ahead."
"No, I am not leaving you if you are tired."
He decided not to say anything while I sat beside him. There fell an awkward silence
between us and I could feel the lump inside my throat. Suddenly, a question swept my mind and I didn't even think twice before asking him,
"Mark, can I ask you something."
"Yeah, anything." His voice was enveloped in restlessness.
"Why are there coffins in your house?" His expression told me it was never a good time to ask him such a question.
Mark's face went dread with horror from a warm one. He went pale from red and
started sweating. I saw him stammer for the first time that day.
"I… I … I gotta go." And he went away. Swift and fast, although limping a bit. I wanted
to call him out and stop. But his eyes said he wanted no disturbance in his exit. I
regretted that day then itself.
But as he was going a parchment of a paper fell out of his pants pocket.
I was getting late for my class so I took it, put it in my own pocket and headed to my
French class.
It was boring that class, and in order to wipe myself off those French words, I went in
the school library and distracted myself from Mark's agony. While I was reading a
sonnet of Shakespeare,
'Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
For let me confess that we two are the same
and can never be parted for we are in love.'
"Uh!" I closed the book and cried in a high pitch. Before the librarian could assault me out, I took my bag and skittered out of the library in a hurry. I was exhausted and when I looked at the watch, it was already six'o clock.
As soon as I hit the bed, the exhaustion of the day, the tiredness of the subway, the
irritation of the children blabbering in the way, everything dissolved away.
As I moved to get the blanket, I heard a sound of a crushed paper rubbing on my
thighs.
The parchment.
I almost forgot about it. I rustled through my pocket and there it was, crushed a bit but readable. I straightened it up and started reading it.
Dear Samirah,
It's been a while since I wrote a letter to you. Not that I don't miss you but I guess you are best these day with all your work. How is it going anyway? I wanted to visit you back in November but I just shifted here. It's nice. I have made friends and I like it. Although your absence diminishes my strength every day. From the day I told you who I really was, it was scared you would disown me. I wanted to tell you more about Marinette before leaving for India. How is the weather there? Do you want me to come? I would love to be around you even though it will be a
dangerous environment.
Love you loads. Reply me soon.
Love,
A guy who loves you the most,
Mark.
I couldn't believe the first time I read the letter. So I read it twice and thrice and
gradually I gulped the fact that Mark was cheating on me. Who the hell were Samirah
and Marinette? Anger was boiling inside me. I wanted to get to know them and kill
them to death.
That time I realized yet again that Mark Hannigal was still a stranger to me. Familiar in some way but always, a stranger.
I wanted to throttle Mark and ask him the what was his real intention. But I couldn't.
Because my I loved him. And because my eyes and mind didn't cooperate and my
eyelids closed before I realized I was sleeping