50The visit with Abdullah's family went a lot better than I expected it would. It wasn't the somber scenario that I'd envisioned; in fact, it was hardly a sad occasion at all. The only objects indicating the party's true purpose were the four or five photo albums placed neatly on the coffee table next to the hors d'oeuvres.
When I got there, Neola, Abdullah's mother, greeted me with a charming smile and took my coat into the spare bedroom where I'd be staying the night.
"We haven't heard from you in a long time, Ariel," Neola mentioned as we passed by a few of Abdullah's aunts.
"I've been preoccupied lately," was my improvised reply. "But I was going to call."
"We're just glad you're here. Even Ali, now that he's had some time to think about it. We're all better now." The corners of her mouth went up slightly, as if in a smile. She patted my left shoulder gently before making her way back down the hall to answer the door for more guests.
As I set my overnight bag on the bed, my eyes scanned over the walls, looking at old pictures. Abdullah's first birthday, a family picnic in the park, field trips, baseball games, holidays. they were all so happy, even our homecoming dance picture. He and I were linked arm-in-arm, he in his tuxedo and I in my red dress. We looked like one of those high-school couples that get married on an MTV wedding show, have 2 perfect kids, own a beautiful Beverly Hills house and grow old perfectly happy to have each other's company. But we really weren't.
"Ariel?" a child-like voice snuck through the door. Nebeelah, the youngest, stood at the doorway with a piece of cake. "This is for you." She set it on the bed and walked away.
"Thank you," I called after her, but she'd already left. After taking a few bites of the cake, I set it down and crept up to Abdullah's room. It was almost the same as the night he and I left it, which is remarkable considering the time that had passed. His clothes were still on the floor. Not being able to control myself, I dove onto his bed and took in the smell of everything, the pillows, the sheets, the comforter, a shirt . . . and it made me smile. It was as though in spite of the terrible things that happened, I still was happy to know that he was sort of there. I don't want to say that I didn't miss him, but that second, being surrounded by everything, I wished he were there in bed with me because I wanted so badly to hold him.
But, hearing reality call, I selected a shirt of his that was on the floor and decided to take it with me, just as a reminder.
Making my way back downstairs, I tucked the shirt into my overnight bag before rejoining the party.
"Ariel," Ali gingerly grasped my arm. I turned around to face him. It was interesting to see little pieces of Abdullah's face as I looked at his father. His eyes weren't as harsh as I remembered them, and it relieved me a little. "Welcome to our house. I am glad that you could make it."
"Thank you, sir," I replied in the most respectful way I knew how. He squeezed my arm affectionately and walked away. Knowing that for now, things were reconciled, I felt a lot easier than I did this time a year ago.
The rest of the party was pretty uneventful. Most of Abdullah's relatives spoke Hindi, so I didn't know what they were saying anyway. That night, after everyone left, I ate dinner with Abdullah's family, which I now felt was extension of my own dysfunctional family. The entire time I was with them, I never felt like I didn't belong there, or that they hated me. I felt like one of them. Here I was, basically the cause of their son's death, and they held no malice against me.
Maybe it was God, maybe it was just late, but for the first time in my life, I felt truly loved, and I surreally belonged.
~
A/N: After a REALLY long time, I've started to resurrect Ariel. For now, I'm going to start writing new chapters, and then I'll get around to mending the old ones. They were mostly song lyrics anyway.
I had to re-familiarize myself with the story and the characters by rereading it about 10 times, and it was fun to see how I wrote then, and how I've grown as far as prose goes. But, I'm anxious to get started again.
Thanks to everyone who stuck with me. You're the best!