Incense and Sensibility (The Rajes #3) - Sonali Dev Page 0,78
spring. I couldn’t get it to stop.”
“You tried to stop it.”
“I don’t know if what I did qualifies as trying. I don’t know.”
“What did you do?”
“I got my jacket off and pressed it against his wound. There was no way to stop it. Everything was soaked, my hands, the jacket.” The tear slipped from his eye and disappeared behind his ear.
“How is he doing?”
He sat up and opened his eyes, thick spiky lashes damp at the edges. “A new doctor just saw him. But no one can figure out why he won’t wake up.”
“Did you find the doctor?”
“I had to do something.”
“That’s good. That you got to do something.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anger sharpened his words.
“Should it mean something?”
“India, Please! Just say what you’re trying to say.”
“Okay. What do you think I’m trying to say?”
He grunted. “God, I hate this.” She wondered if he would get up and leave again. He’d run out of here once and she’d pushed him out once. They were one-for-one.
“Are you saying that finding the doctor was for me, not for Abdul?”
“I’m saying that I hope the doctor can help Abdul.”
“I know that. But you’re trying to get at something. You’re trying to tell me that I didn’t lose that part of me when I woke up in the hospital. You’re trying to say something.”
A giant lump was lodged in her throat. All she wanted was to give him that answer, but she knew he had it already.
“It’s when they took him away on that gurney,” he whispered finally, the sound coming out raw.
She swallowed.
“That’s when I lost the part of me who thought he could win. They took Abdul away on that gurney and I knew there was nothing I could do.”
“Nothing you could do for Abdul?”
“No, for anyone.”
Those words hung there, eating through the silence in the room, until the sounds outside the window came back into focus. The rustling of the wind. A stray whirring of a car.
“Why do you think you can control everything?” She was the one to break the silence.
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Doesn’t everyone want to?”
“Yes, but not everyone believes they can.”
“If you don’t control your own destiny aren’t you just a puppet?”
“That depends on what you mean by ‘controlling your destiny.’ Controlling your actions and controlling the world’s reaction to your actions are two very different things.”
He sat up. “You’re quoting the Bhagavad Gita to me.”
“I’m just answering your question.”
“How can I just let him die?”
“Do you really believe that you have a say in that?”
He opened and closed his mouth, then tried again. “Will you go somewhere with me? Please. There’s something I want to show you.”
India stepped back. He’d said those words to her before. That night long ago she’d been willing to follow him anywhere.
“Yash, please.” There’s nothing you want to show me that I want to see. But she couldn’t say those words. She wasn’t a liar, but she was no longer the girl who gave everything away without any thought to self-preservation either.
“If you go with me now, I’ll leave. I promise. I’ll let you get back to your life. I’ll get back to my own.”
The fact that he meant for that to be an inducement proved he didn’t understand her at all, and that’s what made her nod her head.
The walk to Stanford Hospital took twenty minutes. In less than half an hour they were at the registration desk of the critical care unit. The nurse at the desk recognized Yash and asked how he was doing.
It was long past visiting hours, but she let them through with a whispered, “Just five minutes, then you have to move to the waiting area.” Obviously, she and Yash had a pattern.
Yash thanked her, and led India to Abdul’s room where he lay motionless and hooked up to too many machines.
For a long time they just stood there, India watching Yash as darkness wrapped tight around him, mottling his aura to a rusty brown. The need for his aura to return to its golden splendor was a prayer inside her. All she wanted was for him to have peace.
“How can I live with myself if he dies?” Someone had left a framed picture of a baby next to Abdul’s bed, Yash stroked it with a finger. “He has a little girl. She’s just a few weeks old. And please, please don’t tell me again that I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger.”
“Okay.” She wanted to, though. Before she could say more, there was a sound