Bomb Cyclone and its Effects on Harvard - 8

A Novella

8

And again it started to precipitate – and it was cold enough to be snow, beneath the grayish sky. Waiting here for the next to the last train, when a ringing from my phone buzzed at me. Since there were very few people who wanted to know where the iPhone was, this was probably not a good sign. But I throttled up the nerve to respond, and it was as expected by my father.

“Yes?” As if nothing were happening.

“Where are you?” With a town that veered to anger, but was not quite there yet. Father knows best, in his mind anyway.

“Out.” With no more explanation than that.

“Come home right now.”

“Doing that, but it will take some time.”

“I will pick you up in the car.”

“Do not bother.” Making my best attempt at a bored air.

“You do realize you are going to be in a great deal of trouble?” But the edge had settled off of his expression.

“That was obvious.” The train was approaching, with its beams glowing into the flog. “Have to go now.”

“Why?”

“I am getting on the train.” With a defiance that did not measure up to the obvious words.

“The train? What are you doing on a train?” There was an annoyance, that he did not bother to conceal.

It was at that point that closing the iPhone put an end to the clipped conversation. This was life with father.

Getting on the train. Sitting in a seat. Sitting down. It was just before 11 PM. And adventure had grabbed me by the shoulder, and deposited the can on the same route.

This time the conductor was punctual - and took my large ticket. Then the iPhone rang.

Not recognizing the number - hesitation gripped my hand - but then answered it nonetheless:

“Hello. Who is this?” - in a light and cheerful way again - settling into a pattern where people could not figure out what was going on inside. My grip on my conscience mood was returning.

“This is Sai. I wanted to see that you were on your train.” A soothing tone came from the other side. The flight of the parakeet, on wings of the dove – a sigh involuntarily escaped my mouth – and rested me, beneath the tum-tum tree, and stood a while in thought.

“Yes, but there is a vast hurdle to cross...” Control, control was lacking, reassert it, this instant – easier said than done.

“You do not need to explain.”

Waiting, though I answered:

“Thank you for your help.”

“No, you were right. I did not do things as I would wish to be - in retrospect.”

“You did more than anyone else did.”

“Except the chief nurse.”

Had not put it together that she was the chief - noting it down, along with the name on her card.

“I should be going.”

“Will talk tomorrow - because there will be a tomorrow - I assure you. And will have a proposition for you which you might want to think about - think with a deep cognition of what it would entail.”

This, of course, piqued my interest.

“What is it?” Not hiding my curiosity. Inside my heart raced, though there was no reason for it.

“Have to talk to other people 1st, but that will be a formality. And you will have to be on your best behavior.” Click.

Then there was silence, glorious and gluttonous in its grating grandeur.

After some ghastly minutes - got off the train. My father was glowering, with snow gliding.