Chapter 321: Chapter 321 - Gift Of A Veil, From Beyond It
When the I pressed the 7-G doorbell, the entrance opened very quickly. Edgar’s face was lit up that same happiness as always. He looked... better than the last time I’d seen him. More even color in his cheeks.
> Or maybe I’m imagining it. <
"Citra! Come in, come in. I was hoping you’d stop by."
"Yes, apparently you placed me on an accepted guest list? I’m not sure I deserve the consideration - I did not even bring a gift when visiting an elder’s home."
"Oh, my wife would given you quite the withering condemnation right at the door... for all of about five seconds before she pulled you in and force fed you hospitality - and that likely included having you eat if you were willing."
"Traditions are important. Especially those that are carried out to make respect for one another clear."
I should have at least bought some fruit once I decided to head this way. I passed enough places I could have gotten *something*. When going to see the merchant’s daughters - pretty much the only people I ever visited outside of the palace - this whole thing was never a problem.
> Intimacy with secret lovers is hardly the time and place to be bringing household gifts. <
But my mental excuses feel weak as I follow him deeper into the apartment. Even if making Vrika feel uncomfortable with my memories of those women is a *little* satisfying. Silly wolf.
"I’m just happy to see people I enjoy spending time with, even if their hands are empty."
"Can you... not say it that way? It makes me want to rush out and buy something for you just to ease my guilt."
"You’ve already given me plenty. Doctor Lang said I was lucky you convinced me to take the house visit when you did."
Edgar settled into a nice and comfortable looking chair, gesturing for me to take the couch. However, there was no way I was just going to sit down after hearing that name.
"...Lang? That is who... was sent?"
"Unless my memory is failing me too. Turns out my blood pressure had spiked to dangerous levels. Could have had a stroke or heart attack without warning."
"That doesn’t sound good at all."
"Well, it’s not. But now I know I need back on prescriptions so I’ve made appointments and everything to get it handled... and started eating better. Can’t be kicking the bucket too soon - Medha made me promise not to be hasty."
Though the particular werewolf OBGYN ’moonlighting’ as a more general doctor was an odd thing to learn, relief still surged through me to hear he is reacting well. I tried not to show how worried I’d actually been, though the exact way I sucked in a breath and blew out was probably sign enough.
"I’m glad you listened to my advice. Sometimes we need outside perspective to see what we’re avoiding, but other times even if we know exactly what it is we do nothing about it."
"True enough. Speaking of which... I wanted to thank you properly while handling something else I’d avoided for all these years."
Edgar stood up again, moving toward a wooden cabinet near the window and opening its top drawer. Watching him maneuver in here without his cane made me slightly nervous. I’m sure he has the place memorized, but now I’m afraid to sit or touch anything.
> Just bumping something a half inch or so out of place could throw him off and lead to an injury! <
He returned carrying a carefully folded piece of cranberry colored fabric that made my eyes want to fall out of their sockets for the recognition. Silk, clearly, with a border edging in intricate embroidered patterns with tiny mirrors that caught the light as he held it out.
"This was my wife’s dupatta. She treasured it because it was identical to one worn by an actress she adored named Sutara in several interviews back in the seventies."
I reached out to touch the fabric, feeling the quality beneath my fingertips. It was exquisite for its probable age. The metallic gold thread - zari - formed opulent raised floral motifs that would have taken even our royal tailor considerable time despite having eight legs.
"This zardozi is beautiful."
"I’m glad you enjoy it. It’s yours."
My hand pulled away like the item literally shocked me. I stepped back, feeling even more guilt. I just came to see if he was doing fine because I’m not ready to deal with some other things.
"Edgar, I can’t accept something so precious to your memory."
"You can - and you should."
His voice carried the firmness known to older people that are treating you like a misbehaving child. However, he only holds the covering just a little closer and doesn’t try to force it into my hands.
"I could reach and feel it whenever I wanted all these years, if I needed reminded of her. But I leave it to absolute disuse beyond occasionally having it professionally cleaned. I have not seen it for a long time... because I cannot."
Petting the fabric once, he holds it out further. Just enough that I would feel bad letting him hold his arm out without taking the weight off his hands. So... I’ll just pretend I was tricked.
"More importantly, Medha would have loved knowing it went to someone who would appreciate it."
"You said it was a replica of something an actress wore...?"
Assuming the language remains similar enough between our worlds, Sutara should mean something like ’very bright’... as ’tāra’ meant star in my kingdom. Honestly, I never found it so strange that language between kingdoms was uniform considering the Devanagari was said to be taught by the pantheon of deities.
> But with how many unique languages exist on this Earth, wouldn’t you say it is strange? <
Many shifter kingdoms certainly do not get along... so you would think they would develop their own entire dialects even out of spite. I guess the Solar Deity of this world must be as hands off as the Lunar Goddess is - when she isn’t meddlesome.
While I ruminated on this... and Vrika yawned at my tangent that affects nothing - Edgar had walked over to another shelf. One sitting next to an old television setup, lined with what looked like cases that would contain DVDs.
"Her entire filmography, as well as many of the popular Bollywood classics. Their musicals used to fill our old home after dinner, but I haven’t watched one since she passed. I always meant to."
Moving toward the collection almost before I’d consciously decided to, I picked up and examined the colorful covers. The elegant script in both English and what I assume is modern Hindi draws my eye.
> Looks like computer-print perfect text... which absolutely allows me to sound it out for the most part. Though I have a feeling these occasional dots on the bottom are new and important. <
Overall, it makes me feel the same and also opposite of what Helene seemed to feel when attempting to read Old English styled books. The letters and sounds are mostly there, but things are clearly... different.
Some things recalled, some things evolved, some things discarded in this new tongue and type. But seeing the beautiful costumes even in the small promotional images starts to make me a little homesick from the same sort of feeling... that what I am looking at is close but not quite, but close enough!
"...Would you like to watch one together this afternoon? If you have time."
Growing extra quiet with his back to me, I fear that my sudden curiosity has only displeased him. When he finally speaks I realize it was something much... worse. The tone and crack of his voice tells me that I moved him emotionally.
"I’d love to, Citra. Movies are always better with company, anyway."