If Only I Had Opened It

I was in the basement of my parents' house, the house I grew up in as a child. The weather was a scorching 45 degrees celsius outside, but in here, you wouldn't know. It was always dark, dank and damp with a musty odour that seemed to stick to your clothes. I took a sip of cold brew and lifted another box to wade through when my thirteen-year-old daughter said, 'Mama - this looks terribly suspicious.' Double adverbs - six months in a private London school will do that to you.

I walked over to her. My husband had got a plush job in one of the investment banks in London, and I had the lovely job of getting rid of everything we had in the US, including my parent's house in upstate New York. A part of me wondered why I kept living in the shadow of my husband as his trophy wife - Law degree from Harvard, MBA from Stanford - youngest partner in a top consulting firm. And now a mother of a thirteen-year-old who was going through her first and very dramatic heartbreak. And also a wife to a successful principal at the world's leading investment bank.

She squatted on her heels with her hair tied in a bun wearing a tank top and shorts. Many people have told me she is the spitting image of me. I secretly hoped she was better than me not only in looks but in other things too. Her first-ever boyfriend had refused to return her call, and she had dumped him. I was grateful because she was ready to help me clean the basement in order to forget her 'anguish'. In her own words, 'She needed to do something to get him out of her mind.'

I took the package from her. It said 'My dear Nimi' on top. 'Did you know her Mama?' she asked. My mind did a flashback to my first love - Cheeku, secret bus rides, sneaking to the theatre during school hours, holding hands while walking, late-night 'study' hours. He was always Cheeku to me, and I was always his Nimi -our pet names for each other. I was in a daze when my daughter shook me, 'Are you ok? Mama - should I get some water?' I looked at her and said, 'No, got lost in old memories.' She gave me that dimpled smile and said, 'You are so old!' and went off to sift through more boxes.

I took my cold brew, sat down with my back to the hard wall and stared at the suspicious-looking package wrapped in brown paper. I remember when I saw it first after I came back from Paris - after my birthday party.

I still remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was my birthday, and we had made plans to celebrate it at my place - just Cheeku and me. I had postponed a trip to Paris with my friends so that I could hang out with him. He had begged for me to spend the day with him, and I had agreed. He had planned a surprise for me. It was 6:00 PM, and I was getting super annoyed. Where was Cheeku? He was supposed to be here in the afternoon - we were supposed to watch a movie, have dinner and celebrate my birthday at noon. I was irritated and paced the floor since the afternoon. I had a habit of pacing non-stop when I got anxious or angry. And worst of all, I hated waiting for somebody else. I kept looking at the phone on the table next to the wall, willing it to ring - it was the pre-cell phone days. The black phone just sat there like a statue.

My mind was going crazy. He could have called me, right? He had my room number memorized, just like I had committed his number to memory. What is more important than my birthday today. At around 8 or 9 PM, I had started drinking the wine and slept off. The next day I had woken up and gone on the Paris trip with my friends. It was a week-long trip sponsored by my parents, who expressed their love with money. All my life, I had spent a lot of time waiting for my parents to show up; that is why it hurt when Cheeku did it to me. I spent the week 'getting over' him. And when I came back, the box had been waiting for me. In my spite, I had left the package unopened, and my parents must have moved it somewhere else, and it had ended up in the basement. And since that day, I had been unknowingly carrying the baggage of being ignored.

I took the box in my lap and caressed it with my hands. Even to this date, I could not stand it when people were late or did not show up. And ironically, I married a guy who was so busy that I had an IVF baby even though there was nothing wrong with us physically. Cheeku used to say, ' There was no point running away from the problem when the source of the problem was yourself.' He was right as always. I took a big breath and opened the package. Inside it was a slightly yellowed envelope. I opened it and read the letter.

My Dear Nimi,

I know you are angry and hurt that I did not show up on your birthday. Especially after I begged you to stay back and postpone the Paris trip with your friends. I do apologize for the pain I caused you. I know this is your worst fear - waiting for people you love to show up.

Believe me, I tried to call you - a million times, but the phone kept ringing with no answer.

Let me tell you what happened. You know how I used to get dizzy spells and have nosebleeds. I got one right when I was leaving after getting your gift. The storekeeper offered to call a doctor, but I ignored him. However, I fainted and found myself with an IV in my hand in a hospital ward. I tried to call you from the hospital the entire afternoon, evening, night. I even left a message with my roommates, my parents in case you called my place. And when I got discharged in the morning, I ran to your place only to find that you had left. And the first thing I noticed when I entered your room was that the phone cable had been disconnected. In your pacing - the marks were evident in the carpet - you had kicked off the phone cable, and none of my calls came through.

I know you are angry and don't want to talk to me. Hence, I am writing this letter and leaving the surprise gift for you in this weird looking package. Hopefully, you will want to talk to me after you see the gift.

Nimi - My only question to you is - Why didn't you call me? All you had to do was call my house once, and you would have got the message.

Yours always - Cheeku.

I sniffled and opened the tiny black box with the letter. I knew what it was even before I opened it - it was an engagement ring.

I broke down in tears. I could not stop the flood of tears from the very fibre of my soul. All those years of thinking he did not care enough for me - if only for a second I had stopped thinking about myself, maybe we would both be happily married. And I would have finally learnt to accept that I am capable of being loved.

My daughter came over and held me in her tiny embrace. We stayed like that for quite some time. When my tears had dried up, I looked at her and said, 'Two things - first, you better call your boyfriend back and find out what happened. And second, help me find out 'Cheeku' in Facebook with your skills.'