“What’s up Ramesh?” Akira gently drew her boyfriend close. Automatically, Ramesh laid his head against her shoulder and across to her right-side, upper chest. He felt disconsolate, giving wonder and consideration as to whether he could feel reconciled with himself, now or forever in the future.
“I can’t say goodbye, it’s like we’ll never be together again.”
Akira sighed. Despite her grace, kindness and love for her boyfriend, this recurrent happening had begun to wear her down. “Ramesh, how old are you?”
“Me? I am 18, you know I am 18. Why do you ask?”
“Because Ramesh, this – this behaviour is unusual, for a young man of your age.”
“You think I’m needy, don’t you?” Ramesh snuggled his head into the yellow, furry fabric of Akira’s top.
“Clingy I would say, Ramesh.”
“Then, why can’t we live together? You have plenty of room, your brothers have all left home, it is only you and your father in this big old house.” Ramesh adjusted his position, slipping both arms around Akira’s waist, interlocking his fingers.
“You know why Ramesh. Father won’t countenance his daughter shacking-up with her boyfriend under the same roof covering his own head.” In a daydream lasting several, fleeting seconds, Akira imagined throttling her father and boyfriend simultaneously, a hand around each throat. As the vibrations of sharp gasps and gurgling filled her ears, a gateway opened ahead of her. She felt a beckoning. “Anyway, you only live a short distance away, in the village. You text me every hour we aren’t together; you call, we talk, I tell you everything about my day, I share all my thoughts with you.”
“All, your thoughts?” Ramesh raised his head, inquisitively. Without intention, the manoeuvre collided head with lower jaw and chin. Akira bit her own tongue, it hurt, shock waves of pain radiated from her mouth and she cried out.
“Oh! Ramesh! Christ!”
“What? What have I done?” Awkwardly, he took two steps backwards. Not knowing what to do or say, he slipped his hands into his chino’s back pockets.
“Just go home Ramesh.” Akira held her jaw and spat onto the gravel driveway, looking to see if blood mixed with saliva. “Forget saying goodbye, try ‘farewell’ perhaps.” She turned away in anger and marched back inside the manor house, leaving the forlorn figure of her boyfriend to slowly traipse away.
Once inside, Akira called to her father in the billiard room. “Father! The hounds are in need of exercise, may I release them?”
Her father, bent over the table, retreated from the shot he’d been lining up for the last half minute. “Daughter? But they haven’t had their dinner. In fact, their dinner is several hours late. I know for sure they are very hungry and somewhat agitated. Do you think it wise to send them out? Perhaps feed them first?”
“No, no, they’ll be fine, trust me on this one father.” Akira’s hands clasped around a lever, connecting to the door of the cage housing the dozen working hounds maintained on the estate. She adjusted her grip, readying herself.
©Brinkinfield 2020 All Rights Reserved
Part of the Ekphrasis Project (story inspired by a picture)