This was the third day since that terrible headache started and Sheila was weary waiting for it to fade away on its own. Early this morning she had woken up with a dream about Zubin. He was getting off a bus at the intersection she could see from her house. He carried a small suitcase that looked well-traveled. In his other hand he held a huge bunch of violet chrysanthemums. He looked lean and energetic as he strode up the street to her.
Next she saw both of them in the middle of a lawn, Zubin holding her in a warm embrace. In real life, they had never so much as held hands. She was saying to him "What's wrong Zubin, why have you lost so much weight ?". "Have I really ? Maybe because I have cancer" he replied. She felt the tears come to her eyes, her throat choking with pain. He kissed her on the face only like a very dear friend could. His touch was tender, warm and protective but there was nothing remotely sensual about it. He handed her the flowers.
She wondered about the flowers, Zubin was never the kind to bring flowers, in the twenty odd years that they had known each other, he never had. He believed in showing up and being there for her and doing whatever it took. Then she saw them in a hotel room. He had started to unpack, she was dressed as if it to go out to dinner. "Where to you want to go ?" she asked. "I have to tell you in my condition, I cannot eat any kind of starch - it makes me dangerously ill" Zubin said.
She held him close and felt his tall, emaciated frame. The more he tried to make it a happy reunion, the more she wanted to cry. Then suddenly the dream ended and she woke up with a really nasty throat ache. Glancing at the clock on her bedside table, she realized that it would be the middle of a workday for Zubin at Ankara. Calling him would not be a good idea. She tried to compose a semi-coherent email but failed even after five attempts. What exactly was she supposed to write ? She went about her morning, worried about her strange dream and about Zubin. At some point, she decided to look up the symbolism of flower colors.
For centuries, purple has been known as a regal color, connoting dignity, pride and success. So pretty plum blossoms are an obvious choice when a friend gets a new job or any time congratulations are in order. But rumor has it that purple can also signify love at first sight, so send that special someone violets or purple roses when you want to show you care.
Like pink, lavender represents grace and femininity, but it’s more refined, more sophisticated and elegant. Pretty lavender blooms are perfect for mommies-to-be; tiny wild asters can say "thank you" or "happy birthday"; lilac-colored roses tell her you still think she’s beautiful, even after all these years.
As with everything that had to do with Zubin, there was so much ambiguity in the color of the flowers. Then there was the flower itself which supposedly represents the essence of fidelity. She would have to wait for Zubin to contact her and in the meanwhile all she could do is to pray for him to safe and well. Yes and happy with the life he had - a life that did not and would not intersect with hers.
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Next she saw both of them in the middle of a lawn, Zubin holding her in a warm embrace. In real life, they had never so much as held hands. She was saying to him "What's wrong Zubin, why have you lost so much weight ?". "Have I really ? Maybe because I have cancer" he replied. She felt the tears come to her eyes, her throat choking with pain. He kissed her on the face only like a very dear friend could. His touch was tender, warm and protective but there was nothing remotely sensual about it. He handed her the flowers.
She wondered about the flowers, Zubin was never the kind to bring flowers, in the twenty odd years that they had known each other, he never had. He believed in showing up and being there for her and doing whatever it took. Then she saw them in a hotel room. He had started to unpack, she was dressed as if it to go out to dinner. "Where to you want to go ?" she asked. "I have to tell you in my condition, I cannot eat any kind of starch - it makes me dangerously ill" Zubin said.
She held him close and felt his tall, emaciated frame. The more he tried to make it a happy reunion, the more she wanted to cry. Then suddenly the dream ended and she woke up with a really nasty throat ache. Glancing at the clock on her bedside table, she realized that it would be the middle of a workday for Zubin at Ankara. Calling him would not be a good idea. She tried to compose a semi-coherent email but failed even after five attempts. What exactly was she supposed to write ? She went about her morning, worried about her strange dream and about Zubin. At some point, she decided to look up the symbolism of flower colors.
For centuries, purple has been known as a regal color, connoting dignity, pride and success. So pretty plum blossoms are an obvious choice when a friend gets a new job or any time congratulations are in order. But rumor has it that purple can also signify love at first sight, so send that special someone violets or purple roses when you want to show you care.
Like pink, lavender represents grace and femininity, but it’s more refined, more sophisticated and elegant. Pretty lavender blooms are perfect for mommies-to-be; tiny wild asters can say "thank you" or "happy birthday"; lilac-colored roses tell her you still think she’s beautiful, even after all these years.
As with everything that had to do with Zubin, there was so much ambiguity in the color of the flowers. Then there was the flower itself which supposedly represents the essence of fidelity. She would have to wait for Zubin to contact her and in the meanwhile all she could do is to pray for him to safe and well. Yes and happy with the life he had - a life that did not and would not intersect with hers.
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Comments
The two sentences jump too fast. Sheila cannot react that fast in nano seconds of reading time. Should she not be stunned first, not believing what she heard , looking into his eyes to see if he really meant what he said, the pregnant pause from him and her realizing that it was serious and feeling the welling emotion in her heart ballooning up as though it would burst her chest and finally finding its way up to her eyes and then out into the world as silent tears... as she clasped her mouth in disbelief to shut out any silent scream that would escape her!
:)
Alright, they don't have to say much to each other.But don't they have to speak to the reader :-? Agreed she need not show much emotion. They are well matched in frequency etc etc., but isn't this not a shocking news for her? Being a book, i feel you may need to explain the reader the turmoil in her. If it was a screenplay I'd have agreed and it would suffice to say he said and she cried :)
Its the actors who have to do the emoting part..