Chapter Sixteen
I did not know what I was thinking when I asked Mike this question. This was our first date and I was bringing in something, what I was sure, was a troubled past, between them. And that too, when we were sitting here together. When we could use this time to bond over. But I could not help my curious mind. It was like a bug crawling in me to search for the reason. I wanted to know what had happened between them.
It was the Worst thing one could do on a first date, I knew it but I couldn't help myself. Now that I was getting comfortable with him, I wasn't refraining myself from being frank and asking personal questions.
After I asked him the question Mike stared at me for more than ten seconds before he gazed ahead and seemed to ponder over this.
"Maybe, Shirley should tell you about this. It's not something I should tell." He said, staring at the wall, his voice distant. Like he was thinking about his past. Somehow his answer crushed my hope. I could not ask Shirley, that was the very reason I asked him in the first place, but he did not know that.
"When did you two meet? I've never seen you with her before." He asked me, snapping out of the haze that he was in.
This time I looked at the wall, taking notice of the designs but not paying attention to them. I tried to formulate my words before speaking.
"We both are here on a scholarship. So, we met in school." I told him. I thought about the day we had met in the dormroom. How I entered the room and saw a girl in pyjamas lying casually on her bed, reading an adult magazine. I remember the shock and panic that I had felt at that moment. I had a moment when it felt like I had stepped into the wrong room.
"I was a latecomer. I joined the school after three months. Shirley was my roommate and also my classmate." I told him. I tried to think if I should elaborate more.
"Three months after?" He asked me, his curious eyebrows raised. "Why?" He asked me. I looked into his eyes, he was waiting for my answer, looking interested in hearing what I had to say. However, I could not tell him. I could not tell him that my mother had fallen severely sick because of a wound. A wound that had turned infected, and she had to be hospitalised. I could not tell him that the very reason my mother got that wound was my father. He had hit her with steel container, that got her on her eye. For three months, I had to stay by her side taking care of her while doing all the house chores. All the while my father drank his head off and my brother went to wander off with his unruly, punky friends. On the other hand, on many nights, I slept on an empty stomach, because we were going through financial difficulties and did not have any money. Or if put in a blunt way, we were going through poverty. Not that we were out of it ever. Mother's medical treatment cost us a fortune, and even then she did not get full medical help. Because my father thought that Mom's wound was not worth spending so much many on.
I felt a touch on my arm and I jerked a little. "Viri?" Mike asked me, bringing me back to reality. Internally, I shook myself. What was wrong with me? Where was my mind going? Why did I have to bring out the most heavy topic to talk about?
I shook my head, smiling a little. "No, nothing. There were some problems with my transferring documents. It took three months to get all the documents done and get it all settled." I told him, lying through my teeth. Even though I was not very good at lying. Or at least that was what I thought.
"Oh. Who is in your family?" He asked me. I thought if I should tell him about my family but then decided that there was no harm in telling the truth. "Me, my mother, my brother and my father." I answered him. Every single person's face flashed in my memories. I tried to think of my sunken mom's face, my over the top, brute brother who was skinny and yet more than capable of beating me and who didn't like to work and my father. Who just sits in the middle of the room and keeps an eye on everyone. He was a man in his fifties who groaned every time he moved. I shook the images off my brain.
Did I seriously turn my first ever date into a heavy talk show? This was not right. I needed to change the topic. I needed to change the mood.
"So, do you usually throw parties at your house?" I questioned. This was the only thing that I could come up with. My mind can't conjure anything else. Mike glanced at me, grinning. "Yeah, usually." He said, then continued. "Not as usually as you think," he mentioned, looking pointingly at me, "but, I do throw a party every once in a while. I think it's a great way of meeting new people." He told me, shaking the bottle of paint up and down, leisurely.
"Wow. You must be very rich then. If you can casually throw a party like that, every once in a while." I commented. It really did surprise me. I mean, I've never thrown a birthday party in my whole life because it was too expensive. And here he was throwing the parties every once in a while.
Mike let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back. He shook his head. "No, no. I'm not rich. Usually parties aren't that expensive. I throw parties in my house, which doesn't cost me anything. Plus, all the food and DJ are all arranged by my friend's side. We all help." Turning to me, he continued. "Not to mention, people bring bottles of beers and snacks on their own too. So, all in all, all I have to do to throw a party is just announce that I am having a party and open the doors of my house. That's it." He said, smiling as if he was talking about his favourite thing.
I smiled at his smile. He looked so happy. Out of the blue, my stomach let out a growl and Mike looked at me. He covered his face with his hand, trying to hide his laugh behind it but he did not manage it well. Even his eyes were laughing. I was sure my face burned with embarrassment but at the same time I found it funny too. "I think I'm hungry. We should go and eat something." I said embarrassingly, rubbing my stomach to sooth the hollow ache but also to stop it from making any other noise.
Mike nodded and stood up. He dusted his hand before he offered it to me, to help me stand up. I took his hand, feeling the same fluttering in my stomach whenever I touched his hand. He took a flying look on his watch and nodded his head. "You're right. It's already one - thirty. Where do you wanna eat?" He asked me. He still had not let go of my hand.
This time, I grinned at him and squeezed his hand. "Like I told you in the morning. Leave it to me." I said and pulled him after me.