Renegade by Mariyam Hasnain

Author:Mariyam Hasnain
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2017-10-13T23:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

I noticed several rows of red roses blooming in the front garden as we passed through the courtyard of the ancient dwelling. The potted shrubs dotted the outer wall of the house, except at the marble staircase that led us to the porch area of the main building. The wooden door at the entrance had a lion-faced metal door knocker. The door exhibited visible crevices, displaying a unique pattern of criss-cross designs all through the wood.

Rajeev led me to the entrance of the house and knocked on the door. A soft, modulated female voice strained out through the crevices of the old wooden door. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Mom.” His voice became throaty.

The door opened with a squeak.

“Oh! My goodness! I can’t believe this. Raj, it’s you. Jose . . . see who is here.”

A short statured middle-aged woman, wearing a peach-yellow floral skirt and a matching blouse, stood at the doorway. Her graceful face had prominent wrinkles. Her sharp features and sun-kissed skin showed she had been the epitome of beauty at one point. She instantly hugged Rajeev, and he rested his face on her salt-and-pepper hair, tied in a loose bun.

“How are you, Mom? It’s been a long time,” he whispered, his voice choking with emotions.

“I’m fine, son. How have you been all these days?”

“I’m all good, Mom . . . really miss you guys out there.”

“We, too, missed you a lot, Raj.”

“Hello, young lady.” A croaky voice floated in the dusky porch of the house, and I drifted my stare to look from where it came.

The owner of the throaty voice was a man with a fringe of thinning gray hair around his scalp. He stood just behind me, carrying a hedge cutter in his hands. His eyes crinkled at the corners as a welcoming smile sprang to his lips. The wrinkles of his aging face became even more prominent as the smile transformed into a toothless grin.

“Good evening, sir.” I nodded and held my hand out.

His grip was, strong but I could feel the fragility of his aging body as his cold hand shook mine.

“Hello, dear.” Rajeev’s mother looked at me, her eyes still moist.

“Mom and Dad, she is Ruchika, the girl I told you about and Ruchika, she is my mom, Maria Benjamin, and my dad, Jose Benjamin.” Rajeev introduced me to his parents.

I admired the strong family bond Rajeev and his parents shared. Rajeev’s mother instantly took me in her arms and kissed my forehead like she had done for Rajeev. As her motherly arms wrapped around me, I felt as if my real mother had hugged me.

“Come on in, you two.” Maria shuffled me to the living room while Rajeev held his dad’s hand and guided him in.

We sat in the not-so-stunning living room of the Benjamin House, occupied by some antique pieces of furniture, a rocker chair, and an old wooden chest. The other portion of the room had a solid wood dining table set with six chairs. In between the living space and dining area, a door separated the living-cum-dining room from the rest of the house.

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