Happy Family?

1.

“Mom left? What do you mean by mom left?” Aman screamed, still standing. The early morning breeze flowing through the huge French-sized window on the opposite wall seemed to have warmed in an instant.
Dad looked at him, his eyes were puffed, and the corners of his lips drooped, “Umm, she, just left.” His face had shrunk to half its size.
The lobby felt strangely empty as if Mom was the only person keeping it from being deserted. Sweat dripped down Aman’s temples. He looked at Dad and wiped it with his hands. “She can’t just leave.” He licked his lips. “She must be off on a trip or something to cool her mind.” He took his phone and dialled Mom’s number. It rang and rang and rang, but there was no response.
“What did you do? Did you two fight?” Aman came closer and slumped on the floor in front of Dad.
“Well, I mean, who doesn’t fight?” Dad exhaled and looked away.
The lilies Mom had placed in the vase by the window sill had drooped.
“You fought with her? You made her leave.” Aman shouted.
“I did not. I never asked her to leave.” Dad’s voice sounded tired. He still looked outside.
Aman got up and ran. He ran as fast as his legs could take him. Everything turned into a blur. There was nothing except his feet and the side of the road. When he could not run anymore, he stopped, panting. His shirt was soaked and his socks felt sticky as his toes curled under the shoes.
He placed his hands on his knees, almost half-bent, he checked where he was. Some place in the town he had never been to.
A young mom was taking a toddler out for a stroll.
Another mom was waving her kids goodbye as they left the house.
Some mom was rushing her son to school, speeding the car away.
An old lady, walking with a stick, was talking to someone on the phone, probably her children.
All he could see were someone else’s mother.

2

She scanned the small studio apartment. Cobwebs hung from the roof and the floor was dirty. The walls bore damp amoeba-shaped patches. The room smelled pungent. As she attempted to open the only window, the handle broke and came into her hand. She sighed and dumped her bag on the floor.
What have I gotten myself into?
Have I made the correct decision?
She had vacillated repeatedly – should she or should she not leave home?
When she married Hasan at the age of twenty-two, she was a fresh college graduate with dreams to conquer the world. With time those dreams began blurring.
Hasan was offered a lucrative job; with it came numerous transfers to different locations. They thought of declining the offer, but when she realized she was carrying Aman, Hasan accepted the position. They could provide Aman with a world of possibilities with money like that.
She promised herself that she would start studying once Aman was five, but that never happened. She enrolled in a distance learning course, but they had to move abroad, and she missed two semesters and finally dropped the course.
She tried to be happy and content with what she had; that didn’t work either. She took part-time jobs to maintain her touch with the job market, but once she came home late and found Aman curled up on the cold, hard floor. He suffered from pneumonia in the coming weeks. His illness gnawed upon her consciousness.
When Aman turned fifteen, she decided it was time she pursued her dreams. She had to, or else her mother’s warnings would come true.
Hasan is not the right man for you, her mother had said repeatedly. He will always place his needs above yours.
But she was in love and had eloped.
Now, the warning played on a loop in her mind.
She tried talking to Hasan, hoping he would understand, but he was always busy – meetings, projects, conferences, and she was left to decide alone.
Aman is old enough to take care of himself, and Hasan doesn’t need me anymore.
She packed her bags and took the first bus out of town.

3

A man, woman, and child go to the lakeside on a lazy Sunday evening to see the sky changing colours and enjoy the cool breeze by the water.
The woman, in an ankle-length orange skirt that swooshes with the breeze and a beige top, runs after the child. The man, standing at a distance, his heart fluttering with joy, watches with love, thanking the heavens for their presence in his life. The child giggles as his mother hold him in his arms and tickle his ribs. His shrill, high-pitched laughter fills the man with gratitude. The woman, slim, tall, in her mid-twenties, looks at the man and waves at him to call him. The man places the picnic basket near the folding chair he had just set and joins them. Placing the child on his shoulder, he holds his wife’s hands, and together they walk toward the lake.
The autumn sun is milder than usual, which makes the surface of the lake cooler. The man lowers the child into the lake, who giggles jubilantly as his tiny bare legs touch the cool, flowing water. Splashing and splaying, they spend hours, until the sun finally goes down. They return to the land, sit on the folding chairs, sip their respective drinks and watch the sky change hues.
Years later, the man will go there and play the evening repeatedly in his mind till his eyes and mind both turn watery enough for the image of the happy family to blur.

4

Aman imagines meeting his mother and asking her why she was so cruel to him, why she ran away, why she couldn’t wait to at least explain the reason for her actions, or why she never answered his calls and messages. He then imagines walking away from her while she calls after him, repeatedly. Just like he had.
Hasan imagines seeing his wife someday, coincidentally – probably in a departmental store or while waiting at the dentist. He imagines greeting her, appreciating how she had greyed gracefully and carries herself with confidence, listening to her voice mature with age and witnessing the joy in her eyes as she meets him. He then imagines sitting beside her, asking how she is doing, and maybe setting a date and time to meet again.

The woman never imagines meeting them again.
Life was too short for regrets; she needed to erase them from her memory to move forward.