(A/N: My first story ever! Enjoy!)
I was riding home on my bike when I first saw her. You may have guessed I saw a girl. But I didn't think she was any ordinary girl. Don't mistake my words. I don't mean I fell in love at first sight or anything unrealistic like that. But there was something about this girl that caught my eye. No, it was definitely not beauty. I had met many more beautiful girls in my life. Believe me. She was not that pretty. Still, she wasn't absolutely ugly either. Maybe you would have a different opinion. I'll try to describe it, maybe you'll understand.
She was sitting in the front yard, a girl with hair that just brushed her shoulders, dressed in a simple white sari. A cup of coffee was balanced precariously on the arm of her lawn chair, and a pad of paper teetered on her knee. Her head was bent over the paper, concentrating hard on whatever words she was writing.
Something about her intrigued me. Perhaps it was the over-bright eyes, like they were just ready to spill over with emotion, or the way she swiped her hand over her nose, as if she had been crying. As I watched, my new neighbor angrily crossed out something, and then, crumpling up the paper and threw it. Of course, that upset the coffee, which spilled onto the sari. She jumped up, surprised, and I snickered to myself. Just like a girl. What did she expect would happen, if she threw things around like that? And how clumsy!
Pride goes before a fall. Trust me, I learnt the hard way. It might have struck you that riding a bike and staring in another direction isn't the smartest thing to do. Good for you. I, on the other hand… Let's just say I took an unplanned flight.
The flying part wasn't so bad, actually. For a second, I thought it was actually pretty cool. The crash landing, though - that might have gone better
Why was it so dark and foggy? Wasn't it supposed to be summer? My knee hurt a lot too. I blinked a few times, and my vision cleared. The girl was standing right in front of me, peering into my face. I stared up at her, bewildered.
Her bottom lip trembled. Why was she going to cry now? She wasn't even the one hurt!
"Um…" I wasn't sure what to say. Don't cry, I'm all right? Suddenly, her lips broke open. I braced myself for tears. She started laughing. Loudly. Hysterically. Like she had just seen the funniest thing in the world.
I kept staring at her, nonplussed. She did have a very nice laugh. Part of me (the uninjured parts) wanted to laugh along. My knee, on the other hand, throbbed very convincingly. Nope. This was definitely not funny.
She caught her breath enough to gasp out, "I'm… sorry… it was just… so funny!" And she broke out into another peal of laughter.
I started feeling annoyed. "Oh, sure, go on. Laugh, have fun! After all, you're not the one with an injured knee!"
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." She hastily composed herself. "Here." She stretched out her hand, offering to pull me up. I glanced at it, considering. Should I accept it? Or should I walk off in a huff? My knee convinced me walking off in a huff might not work so well, so I took her hand.
She helped me get to my feet, but as soon as I put weight on my left foot, my knee gave way. If she hadn't caught me, I would have dropped to the floor again.
"Here, you had better come in. My mother is very good with injuries, she'll bandage up your knee, it'll be easier for you to walk."
"Mother, eh? Okay, then, let's go see mother!" I wasn't in a position to refuse. My knee hurt too much. Plus, anyone I know will tell you I have an insatiable curiosity.
She led me into the house, and, as soon as we stepped into the hall, she yelled, "MOTHER!" loudly. Really loudly.
"Owww!" I exclaimed. "I'm already lame, are you trying to make me deaf as well?"
"I'm sorry, sorry!" she said, her voice lower this time.
But before either of us could say more, an older woman bustled into the room.
"Oh, Anjali, what have you done now?" she cried as soon as she saw us. I supposed this was the girl's mother. Anjali's mother. I looked at her more closely, but I couldn't really see that much of a family resemblance.
Her mother's face was very soft, and kind, too, I suppose. I have never really been one for reading faces. But something in her face reminded me of my own mother, who died about 7 years ago. Even though her words seemed rebuking, her voice was so sweet, it reminded me of honey. I warmed to her instantly.
"What did I do?" Anjali retorted indignantly. "This poor guy fell off his bike right in front of our gate, and I went to help him!"
I couldn't resist needling her a little - indignation looked good on her face. "Yes, but I wouldn't have fallen off my bike if not for you. I saw you throw a piece of paper, and it caught my eye when my eyes should have been looking elsewhere."
Anjali's mouth fell open in outrage. "So what? You get distracted easily and you try and blame me? Please!" For a moment, I thought she was going to stick her tongue out at me.
"Well, well, that's all right, let me look at your leg," Anjali's mother cut in, quickly acting as peacemaker. "What's your name, son?"
I hastily introduced myself. "I'm Aman Mehra. I live 2 houses down."
Mama, as I was beginning to think of her, immediately placed me into a chair, and started fussing over my leg, asking me even more questions.
I stared at her face, wondering at the marked similarity between her face and my own mother's. Did all mothers have that same look? That comforting patient smile?
"What are you staring at, son?" she asked me, laughing, when she noticed the direction of my gaze.
"Oh, er, nothing. Umm…Aunty-ji, you know, you and your daughter don't look anything alike."
A shadow crossed her face for a moment. "Yes. Anjali always took after her father in looks. My husband…died a few months ago. Anjali and I moved here, as it was cheaper to keep up."
There was a sort of awkward silence after that. It was the first personal bit of information I learnt about them. I didn't really know what to say. 'I'm sorry' didn't seem to fit, but I said it anyway.
She shook her head slightly, and smiled up at me again. "There, son, I've bandaged your leg. I think we can lend you a cane; it's probably somewhere upstairs. Confusion of unpacking, you know."
"No, no. That's okay, I can manage," I immediately protested. I got up, wincing slightly as I made for the door, but I was secretly hoping for a dinner invitation. These people intrigued me.
I wasn't disappointed. "Won't you stay for dinner?" Mama asked me.
"Oh…well, if you insist," I replied, smiling secretly in my head.
Dinner was served soon. It smelled so appetizing! I complimented Mama on her cooking.
"Oh, I didn't cook it, Anjali did!" she replied, laughing.
I glanced at Anjali, a little surprised. I hadn't pegged her as a cook. She understood my look at once, and asked, looking half-annoyed, half-amused, "What? Didn't think I could cook?"
"Oh, anybody can cook," I retorted. "The question is, do you cook well?"
Her eyes narrowed a little at my challenge. "Try it and see."
"Not poisoned, is it?" I murmured teasingly. Her only reply was to dump a heaping spoonful of biriyani on my plate.
The smell was too alluring. I took a small bit of food in my mouth. "Mmm. It's so good, I'm surprised," I complimented Anjali. She rolled her eyes and flapped away the compliment, but I saw a little smile come into her expression.
"I haven't had food like this in 7 years. My mother used to cook just like this!" I didn't know why I was telling them this, but something about the atmosphere made me feel perfectly at ease. I took another mouthful. In a more quiet, side voice, I explained, "My mother died seven years ago."
"I'm so sorry," both of them said. I knew it was the standard reply, but I got the feeling both of them really meant it.
"It's okay, Aunty-ji. I'm used to it by now." I hated the uncomfortable silence.
She reached over and took my hand. "From now on, call me Mama. And you have to come here for dinner every night."
Yes! Score! No more horrible frozen dinners for me! "Thank you, Mama," I smiled back.
The evening ended too early. I went back to my house, limping on a cane, awkwardly wheeling my bike along, but I didn't really notice much. My head was full of thoughts of those two amazing women.
(A/N: So I reread this and thought it was horrible. I'm seriously considering deleting this. The only reason it's still up here is because it was my first fanfic ever. Tell me if you think I should just delete it, though - leave a review!)