SEVENTY-TWO

Two silhouettes of men stood in the doorway. It took a few seconds for my eyes to become accustomed to the dark, and I thought my eyes were deceiving me when I saw that one of them actually looked like Dylan. Was he there, right in front of me, of I was having an illusion? It was getting dark and although the moon was shining bright and we had a candle, I still failed to see clearly the face of the men who was standing in the door way, for their own shadows covered their faces.

"Anisha!" he called my name, and I immediately picked his voice. That same old voice which I knew too well, and which I dreamt of every single day. I knew the voice.

"D...Dylan? Dylan, you're here?" I could not believe both my ears and eyes.

He walked in and hugged me tightly in his warm embrace. Another man walked in too, and stood watching us.

My heart wanted to shout at him! I wanted to tell him to get lost! To tell him that he had treated me so badly; that his letter was very arrogant; but then that same heart of mine also wanted to cling to him. I did not move.

Slowly he pulled himself out of the hug, stared right into my eyes and said, "Anisha!"

"Y…you wrote that letter, didn't you? Why did you have to hurt me like that? was it necessary…." I began to pour my heart out.

"What letter?" he seemed puzzled.

I silently hauled out the envelope and with trembling hands, pushed it into Dylan's palm. He snatched it and immediately opened the envelope and pulled out the paper. His hands slightly trembled as he unfolded the paper. Bending forward slightly in order to use the candle light, Dylan read the letter.

When he was done, he raised his head and stared at me straight into my eyes. Somehow I felt guilty, although I had no idea why that feeling came over me. He handed the note over to the man that he had come with.

The man used the torch from his phone to read the letter, and he stared at me and said, "Anisha. If you believe that Dylan wrote this letter, then you don't know him. You're still far from knowing Dylan." The man sounded upset.

"W..wh…who are you?", I stammered.

"My name is Pete Rockridge."

"Oh, Dylan has spoken about you a lot." I said in a low voice, for embarrassment was tossing me in all directions.

"I'm sure he has", Pete looked aside.

Dylan took back the letter and slowly folded it, put it back in the envelope and put it in his shirt pocket.

"Do you really believe that I wrote that letter?" he asked, his eyes squarely on me.

Oh no! Did he have to look at me like that? Who wrote the letter, then? His name was signed on it, was it not?

"I..I…I didn't know what to believe. A nurse handed the letter to me. She…she also said that you ordered for me to be moved from the VIP ward of your hospital, and for me to…..to…"

"And you believed her? The nurse??" he asked coldly.

I remained silent. Dylan turned to look at the doorway, and as the moonlight fell on his face, I saw that his face was looking very sad. He closed his face using both palms, remained like that for two or three seconds, then looked back at me.

"Anisha, do you know to what extent I have gone to be standing with you here tonight? I'm not talking about today only; I'm talking about since the day that I saw you, here in this place, Olga Children's Home. I was only twelve years old; and I have told you that before. Do you know that Pete and I came here to look for you; we tried to track you down and we failed? And even though we failed, I kept you in my memory, promising myself that one day I would find you? And when we finally meet, you decide to never talk to me, just because of some letter handed over to you by a nurse?"

He sniffed a bit, raised his hand to wipe his face, and he shook his head sadly.

"You spent a whole month with me in that old warehouse; talking to me every single day! Was that month not enough to show you what kind of a person I am? And someone hands you a letter, which is supposedly written by me, and you believe that person without even a doubt? What does that mean, Anisha?"

"I…I am very sorry." I wished if only the floor could open up, swallow me whole and then just close again.

"When you look at me, do you really think I can be the one to write such a letter, and to have someone hand it over to you? If I wanted to tell you anything, I would have done so myself. I wouldn't have found someone to do that for me."

I remained silent, faced the floor and kneaded my fingers in shame.

"At that warehouse, Anisha", he went on "when we all thought that we were dying, I thanked God one last time, that He had allowed me to die in the same room as you. To me that was enough. I was happy with that. And I told you."

"I'm very sorry, Dylan," I said in a low tone.

"So it means that while we were in that old warehouse, you did not believe anything of what I said!"

"I did! I believed…"

"No you did not. Because if you had believed me, Anisha, you should have known immediately after reading that note, that it was not written by me. Huh, Anisha?"

"I …I made a mistake. I am sorry."

Dylan covered his face with his hands, and without saying anything more, he walked outside.

"You've really hurt him," Pete said to me.

"I didn't mean to, I am sorry."

At that moment I wished to disappear into thin air. I was very embarrassed such that I stood facing the floor, not daring to raise my eyes, in case I end up looking into the eyes of someone. I could not, at that moment, bear to look anyone in the eyes, not even Valentina.

"You'll have to apologise to him," Pete said.

"I know. I will talk to him. For now I think he is too angry."

"Angry is not the word. I would say hurt.", Pete corrected me.

"I'm sorry. I really had no intention of hurting him", I pleaded.

Pete walked out and in the darkness outside, I saw him hugging his friend.

"You broke his heart", Valentina whispered.

"I wasn't aware," I said in a low voice.

"Girl!! It seems like he really likes you!", Valentina smiled and she whispered right into my ear, "Oh my goodness, he is so good with his words! It was like watching a movie, when I saw him standing before you, talking to you. He almost cried, did you see that? I'm sure he cried! On my word! I never in my wildest dreams thought that I would live to see this day!"

Pete walked into the room and said, "pack your staff, we're leaving! Do you have much staff?"

"No. She doesn't have much!" Valentina answered excitedly.

"Both of you are coming with us," Pete stated with finality.

"No. I am staying right here. Go ahead, Anisha. let me help you pack your staff" I knew from Valentina's voice than no matter how they would have persuaded her, she would not go. Val always had this strong will and determination about her. Once she said no to something, it was a nightmare to try and change her mind. I knew Valentina well, and I knew by just looking at her face, that we were not going anywhere. But then I failed to imagine myself walking out of the room, leaving her alone. Also, as much I wanted to leave the place, I was not too sure about going with Dylan. Why would I go? Where did they want to take us to? I was going there as what? A friend? For me it was going to be better if Val had joined me. I looked at her with pleading eyes. She simply shook her head and bowed down to face her toes.

"Please excuse us", I spoke and as soon as we were alone, I pleaded with her. "Val, we won't stay there forever. It's just temporary! Once we make a bit of money, we can visit Ms Meyerton together, but let's go and stay there. Even if it's just for a few days."

She looked at me and nodded her head. Oh? She agreed? So easily? Truly the heavens must have been smiling upon me.

Slowly I walked out to Pete and Dylan and I asked them in a low voice, "W…where are we going?"

"Home." Pete answered.