Disenchantment Suppressed

Brooke’s face did not display the deep sadness, but her hand nearly moaned as she held the phone, listening to her father.

“Sorry, your mother and I won’t be around until the summer season,” the late-sixish man told her. “It’ll be during our vacation tour.”

She drew the device from her earlobe. With zero loudness, Colt’s speech was sharp and transparent to Brooke’s best friend, who was in earshot behind her. Aahan entered their glass garden room, clustered with mixed plant life, from the kitchen with a tray of tea and Murukku biscuits.

“We will attend your nephew’s performance this holiday weekend. Your brother invited us for an encore performance, and we have front-row seats,” the father explained.

Silence asphyxiated her as a glass dome consigned over her vocal cords; she froze with an emotional shudder. Aahan set the tray in the center of the Indian mosaic table clear-coated with expoxy resin. He positioned her cup beneath her chin so the saffron-scented steam could reach the Olfactory nerves.

The confidante whispered after pulling his chair close to hers. “He canceled you for a favorite. It's every year. I will speak to him.”

In the same volume, Brooke pleads, “No, you're hurt. Remember? Dad does not wish to speak to you.”

She stroked Aahan’s face, “I can reason with him.”

“A rebuttal from your self-righteous whosoever isn’t necessary,” Colt declared.

“Have you accepted him yet? He cares for me, Daddy, especially when I am too ill and weak to do anything.”

“Since childhood, you have been a ringer for dramatics. Decent men upkeep their wives; otherwise, he will be in trouble with me.”

“You’ve never come by to witness this or allow Aahan and me to—”

“—Enough. I will call you sometime. Goodbye, sweetie.”

Like a finger snap, the connection was disjointed. Brooke chinned her center collarbone, and tears lined her cheeks to saturate the clothed clavicle tips. Aahan embraced her into his bosom, shone Brooke’s left shoulder, and kissed her forehead.

“You did not inform your parents. It will be too late for their visit in a few months,” he said. “Why?”

“I won’t have them come for sympathy's sake; take control and treat me like a sick, dying girl.” She said, “I want them here because they’ll love being with us.”

“We are in charge of your well-being.” Aahan counseled. “Sweetheart, your family is entitled to know. You cannot wait for their correct disposition.”

“I feel okay to travel. Will you take me to my brother’s house?”

“Yes. We can leave today. Let us pack our bags.” He resumed, “Now, that is a smile I longed to see from my wife.”

End