Chapter One

Tick tock. Tick Tock.

The giant clock in the hall was the one of the only sounds that emanated from the room until it had started raining. The sound of the rain falling outside was not noticed by the occupants of the small home until thunder crashed across the heavens and lightning streaked across the sky. They had much more important things to think and worry about. More important than the rain outside that would cleanse one's soul should they stand in it. What in the world could be more important than being pure?

Life?

Darkness.

The one thing that seemed to be more important than anything else was also the one thing that was followed by a gasp and said in a whisper.       

Death.

Death was placing his hands over the family within and taking from the midst of love, a mother.

What would be left when the mother was gone? She had always been the lifeline of the house; the one parent whose prayer was said to be stronger than any other. It was said that she had the ear of the gods and it was said that of all the gifts to the earth, the most precious was mother.

A home will never be a home without her and no one could love more completely than a mother. The love and comfort of the arms of a mother would be gone with her and there was nothing anyone could do to stop that.

A miracle?

The remaining occupant of the house no longer believed in miracles, for miracles are for children who are still naive to the evils in the world.

Darkness flowed over the small house like an eerie cloak covering everything except the small room where the teenager hunched over the bed. She was gently dabbing a cold cloth along the forehead of the woman that occupied the small bed while whispering a lullaby the old woman had long since forgotten but found comfort in.

The tick–tock of the clock was a distant memory now as the sky opened up and sobbed for the loss of a cherished one—mother. The loud roll of the thunder outside drowned out everything except for a sound of love and sweet memory. The melodious voice carrying the Hindu lullaby cut through the silence that had returned and plagued the house ever since the month before when the same scene had happened. Death had arrived and taken the man of the house. When the song ended, the silence came back and wrapped its arms around the house once more.

When the rain eased, insects could be heard chirping away outside as the darkness grew thicker and thunder rolled above. The rain wasn’t back but the sky showed its displeasure of the injustice of the lost angel.

The teenager looked up to see if lightning would follow but it didn’t and she looked back at the pale woman.

“Ma,” she whispered because she knew what was coming. It was a feeling she knew all too well. The sensations of tiny fingers dancing on the back of her neck and then reaching down to twist her gut into knots. The cool wind that only blew against her neck as though a spirit stood there breathing against her.

She knew the end was near and she didn’t want it to be. How could a mother leave her daughter in a world that seemed so foreign? What would the daughter do; she was an outsider in her own life.

“Don’t leave me, Ma,” she begged, pressing her forehead to her mother’s chest. “You can’t leave me. I will die. Kripyaa—Please.”

In a way she was being selfish. Her mother was in pain and all she could think about was how lonely she would be if her mother passed away. She couldn’t help it, she was only human.

When her mother’s voice caught her ear, she didn’t lift her head until a feeble hand brushed her hair. “If it was up to me, Beti,” the woman spoke in a voice that was barely a whisper, “I would stay. But the gods don’t see it that way.”

She shook her head stubbornly causing her tears to topple freely down her cheeks. “Nahi,” she whimpered. “No.”

“It’s time, Priety…”

* * * *

Priety jerked into sitting position on her bed panting for air. It was like someone was holding her nostrils shut and as she tried to breathe through her mouth they sat on her chest. Her neck felt as though she had twisted it the wrong way during her sleep and she massaged it. She prayed the action would alleviate the pain and allow her to breathe normally again. Holding her breath, she counted to five with her eyes closed before exhaling and opening her eyes.

With shaking fingers, she shoved a mass of black hair from her face and looked around. Her eyes traveled over the framed picture on her bedside table of her parents on their wedding day. Her gaze moved to the clock and then the vacant dresser. The fleeting thought of why she didn’t have anything on the dresser breezed through her mind and disappeared like a puff of smoke before her gaze moved again. Eyeing the coat rack behind her door she wondered why it was still there. After her parent’s death she carried it up from down stairs—to do what? Priety couldn’t remember.

She looked back at the picture of her parents. Her mother’s face was covered with a red veil and her father was smiling. They were truly happy, she knew that. During the years she had them they were smiling, loving to each other and to her. That was one of the times when an arranged marriage was a good thing.

She looked out the window to see sun streaming in through the blinds and swore softly to herself before flopping back against the bed.

Why had the nightmares come back? It had been so long since her parents were ripped from her life without much of a warning. Priety had mourned by seeing shrinks and writing in journals to calm her nerves. She cried and starved herself and finally she managed to pick up the pieces of her life and move on.

What was the meaning of the nightmares’ return?

Staring up at the ceiling she continued trying to control her breathing as she closed her eyes to fight the tears. Instead of stopping, they just streamed through her lashes at the thought of her mother and father. She thought back of the pain she had gone through watching them die because the hospitals claimed there was nothing they could do for them.

“So? How do we make this better?” Priety asked as she looked from the doctor to her mother. “There has to be something.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Roshan,” the doctor started but Priety cut him off by slamming her open palm into his desk.

“No! Don’t you dare tell me you’ve done everything because you haven’t done everything or my mother would be getting better! There has to be something else!”

“There is no cure for the cancer your mother has, Miss Roshan,” the visibly shaken doctor managed to get out. “And by waiting this long before seeking treatment didn’t help her case any either. If she had come to us earlier chemo and surgery would have helped. It has spread too drastically for any further treatment. We could operate but she wouldn’t live through it.”

Priety opened her mouth to say something but her mother simply touched her arm. “You’re telling me that now I have to watch my mother die like I did my father?”

The doctor didn’t say anything so Priety continued on the brink of tears, “She’s going to be in pain, damn it! Do something! Anything!”

“All you can do is make her as comfortable as possible,” he advised her.

Priya and Jai, Priety’s parents, needed a specialist and with their savings and her small salary, she couldn’t afford one. The doctors had looked at the sobbing sixteen year old and told her that the best she could do for her parents was to make sure they were comfortable for their last few days—first her father, then her mother. It was the same thing all over again. What were the chances?

Why were the gods punishing her?

At the time, the tender age of sixteen, Priety was still a virgin so why had they taken her parents from her? She had done everything her parents asked of her without complaints even though sometime she wondered the validity in their requests or orders.

She was a good girl.

Using an angry hand, Priety wiped her tears away as the alarm clock began blaring. “I’m up.” She swore and slammed a fist into the snooze button but stayed where she was a little longer before shoving her feet out of her bed. She didn’t know why she had the alarm clock set because it was her week off. She worked so much that her boss finally told her she should take some time. It was pointless to argue with him, even though she tried her best to let him see things her way. She wanted him to see she would go crazy if he forced her to stay home. He laughed and said that he would pay for her stay at the asylum. It was a big joke for him but Priety wanted to deck him.

Yawning, she stripped as she walked toward the shower. By the time she got there and closed the door, Priety was buck naked. Rubbing a hand over her stomach she eyed the shower with contempt. It seemed everything was starting to rake at her nerves.

She lifted her face to the downpour of water beating against her. Lowering her head, she allowed the water to throb against the back of her neck, lifting her head to try and beat the memories of the night’s nightmare from her mind. Flashes of her mother’s last words came to her followed by her father’s dying wish. Her father wished that she would find a husband, settle down and be happy.

No such luck.

By the time she showered and dressed, her mind calmed down. She sauntered into the kitchen. She had a craving for pancakes. The quiet of the house was starting to unnerve her. She needed some form of noise to make her feel as if she was all alone in the world. Taking a deep breath, she hurried into the living room, flipped on the television, cranked it up and returned to make her favorite, pancakes with chocolate chips.

“Do something other than worry about us.” Priya’s voice came back to Priety. “I know you and all you do is feel guilty about things…you have a life to live. You are young…”

“We are sorry we couldn’t provide more for you, Priety,” Jai spoke as he broke out into a bout of coughing. “We are so sorry…”

Although her parents’ deaths were separate and so long ago, they were beginning to mesh together in her head. Priety squeezed the fork she held in her hand until she felt it would sink through her flesh. Looking down, through tear-dazed eyes, she opened her fist but the fork didn’t fall. She used her free hand and pulled it. Luckily, it hadn’t cut through the flesh but left an imprint.

A defeated sigh left her lips. She wished she could go to work. Priety wanted to work so hard until she forgot her name.

Money.

Throughout the day, Priety tried to find something else to do so her mind wouldn’t go back to her nightmares. But everything brought back the memories; a sound, the smell of curry, absolutely everything reminded her of how alone she was in the world and she felt like throwing up everything. Self-pity had never been her strong suit but lately she seemed to be getting better at it. Everything around her reminded her of her parents and it seemed easier to be pulled down by doubt and guilt rather than fight.

Fighting took too much energy, something she was quickly running out of. Every morning, she woke up and felt less and less alive. Just getting out of bed took more energy than she cared to admit.

Reading was something Priety loved doing. She tried reading but the romance novel she was reading was given to her by her mother. After tossing the book so hard across the room, it ripped into nothing but pages. She watched the different pages fall soundlessly to the ground and that made her fly after them, falling to her knees, sobbing, while trying to gather and stick the pages back together feverishly.

She needed a drink, something that would make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end; a drink that would burn its way down her throat to take her mind off the pain in her heart. Ignoring the pages, she braced against the wall to pull herself to her feet before weakly wobbling out the door.

* * * *

The television blared from the living room and Priety couldn’t believe she had left it on. Her head pounded like someone was inside taking a hammer to it. She winced. Every thought, movement, every breath caused her to want to curl up into a ball and die. The throbbing just wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t believe she drank so much; it wasn’t at all like her. Somehow, during the evening she had found her way down by the local pub and sat at the bar. Most of the night’s memories were foggy but now her head throbbed like the devil. With a groan, she grabbed her head to stop the sound vibrating off her brain causing her vision to blur. Priety stumbled out of bed and staggered into the living room to flip off the television before collapsing onto the sofa. It was amazing how much energy it took to stop one’s head from exploding.

Every noise, no matter how low, caused her head to throb and she closed her eyes, resting her head back against the sofa. How could she have been so stupid? She knew no one at the bar would tell her she had too much to drink. The bartender would never cut her off. It was after all Danny; Mister Shit For Brains. The same guy that thought the capital of Jamaica was Mexico. Well it was not really all his fault; she was as much to blame for her hang-over as anyone else. She had wanted something to kill the pain and Danny handed over a bottle of vodka.

The shrill ring of the telephone caused her to jerk and moan in pain. She looked around for something to toss at it but that only caused the phone to ring longer. Like a daredevil, she dove across the sofa and grabbed it. “What?” she groaned.

“Priety?” the voice called from the other end.

“I think they can hear you in Turkey,” she rubbed her forehead. “I don’t want to change my long distance plan. I don’t want to see your girlfriend on your cam. I don’t want to enlarge my penis – whatever you’re selling I don’t want or need. Got that?”

The feminine voice on the other end chuckled. “Priety Roshan, are you drunk?”

“Hoo boy!” She sobered up somewhat, the pain in her head turned to a dull throb. “I am so sorry…”

“Drink lots of water,” the woman offered. “That will help.”

Heat charged Priety’s cheeks and she smiled even though she knew her best friend couldn’t see her. “Thank you. I don’t normally get this drunk, I…”

“I know, hon.” Kerry giggled. “Listen, I’m coming over. I have news and we should celebrate.”

Priety moaned; she couldn’t believe she was still so out of it, she didn’t recognize her best friend’s voice. She opened her mouth to say something but before she could protest or accept, she heard the dial tone. Staring blankly at the phone she made a sound in her throat and let it fall into the cradle before leaning back against the sofa to calm the spinning in head.

Grabbing a hold of furniture and walls, she made her way into the kitchen and grabbed a glass. Filling it with water, she began chugging.

“The person who thought of this hang-over cure obviously hasn’t heard of water poisoning,” Priety moaned, but chugged another glass of water.

By the time the doorbell rang, Priety drank enough water to cause a small flood and used the bathroom a good five times. She jerked when the Dixie horn of the doorbell blared. She tried remembering why she chose that tune for her doorbell. It was getting more and more annoying. Putting down the glass she rushed for the door and pulled it open.

“Diva!” Her best friend Kerry cheered while waving a bottle of champagne and grabbed her into a hug. “I am so happy! We so have to celebrate!”

“No more alcohol.” Priety covered her mouth with a hand. Even the mere thought of alcohol made her ill. “I’ve had enough for two lifetimes.”      

“Nonsense.” Kerry giggled while hurrying into the kitchen with Priety following behind her.

“I am not kidding, Ker. Anymore alcohol and I swear I’ll hurl! And then you’ll have to clean it up.”

“Spoil sport.” Kerry pouted but placed the bottle down and turned to face her friend to wiggle her ring finger in the air. “He asked me !”

“Chad asked you to marry him? Finally?”

Kerry nodded with a wide smile on her face and Priety screamed before diving into her best friend’s arms. The force she rushed with caused both women to topple to the ground with Kerry on the bottom.

“Congrats! About time! I would offer you a happy squeal but, hang over and all.”

“I know!” Kerry echoed. “Took him only five years.”

“Okay we need to make a toast,” Priety admitted as she helped her friend up from the floor. “But with juice.”

She hurried over to the fridge. “Orange or strawberry juice?”

“Orange.” Kerry moved to the cupboard to grab two champagne glasses.

Filling them with orange juice, Priety raised hers and smiled. “To new beginnings and good times,” she smiled even though deep down it felt like something was missing in her own life. She couldn’t be jealous of Kerry; Priety swore never to get married unless she was in love. But increasingly men didn’t want love. They wanted to hit it then quit it – that was how the man on the television had said it. Men wanted sex and that was it. They didn’t want the strings – children, commitment. What was it he called those kind of men? Commitment-phobes. They even had a name for breaking a woman’s heart into a million little pieces.

What was the world coming to anyways?

“To new beginnings and good times.” Kerry repeated.

Absentminded, Priety touched her glass daintily to her friend’s.

Hopping back onto their seats the two friends leaned forward as though sharing a secret no one else in the world could hear. “Can I ask you a favor?” Kerry spoke up and placed her glass down before staring at her fingers.

“Anything, you know that.”

“I would like it, if you’d be my maid of honor.”

Priety blinked in disbelief. “What? Are you sure? I mean I don’t want to mess things up because I’ve never been in a western wedding before…” Priety made excuses, but she actually hated weddings. The few she went to in her life always reminded her just how completely unlovable she was. She saw them as a slap in the face and something she could never have. But Kerry was her best friend and for her, Priety would do anything.

“You’ll do fine, just boss everyone around.” Kerry laughed and Priety chuckled. “And if Chad gets cold feet and tries to run, you have my full permission to take him out.”

“That I can do!” Priety laughed heartily.

It was late that afternoon when Kerry left and Priety began going through proofs for the photo shoot she did the week before. Her boss told her not to worry about it until the end of her vacation but Priety never did like idle hands.