Empathy with the dead

Chapter 1 - Who I am

“You are too un-empathetic to be a female, young lady.” My mom started her bickering, accusing me of the usual stuff. “That was no way to treat the son of a family friend. He kept trying to make you feel welcome, and you didn’t bother to give a small smile in return. That is not how we raised you.”

“First mom ‘un-empathetic’ is not a real world in English dictionary. Second, what you mean by in quotes ‘making me feel welcome’, people refer to it as unwanted flirtation. And you and pa didn’t raise me to smile like a stupid damsel in response to hidden invitations for one-night stand.” Satisfied by my reply, I climbed the stairs leading to my room, leaving my mom to bicker with herself. It is her favorite pastime.

Think I am rude or shouldn’t behave with my parents in this way. Well, you will not be the first to point that out. When I was five, my aunt once requested me to watch over her baby daughter. It started crying as soon as my aunt was out of the room. So what I did… what my aunt told me to do. I watched. Without flinching observed how he continued to cry for a full quarter of an hour. Observed how it s**t its pants by just crying like a maniac. My aunt never told me to ‘watch over’ her baby again. 

Don’t call be evil. What I was supposed to do? I was five.

That day made two things clear in my mind. One, I differed from others in some fundamental way. Two normal people will find it really hard to like me. Honestly saying that is more good than bad. I don’t have to deal with fake smiles, rudimentary pleasantries or outright dumb flirtations. If nobody talked to me, I don’t have to either. Except, of course, when my mother intervenes.

She continues to create situations where I am forced to act all welcoming and polite to strangers. It is her way of treating my ‘un-empathetic-ness.’ Even though that word is not even in any dictionary. Think this would have worked, Then please read first two paras again. 

I am not a bad person….in general. I don’t want to hurt others or make them feel rejected. This is just how I am. I just don’t care. Don’t care about fake pleasantries or problems of others that I intend to do nothing about. This is just who I am.

I am not incapable of being loved or even love myself. There are at least two persons in the world who I as a matter of fact like. Grandma Nelly is the only person who truly understands me and who I truly care about in this entire world. Not even Jake can match her. Jake the boy living next door who was dumb enough to have a crush on me. He kept trying for the entire middle school, unable to take the hint. Now he is stuck with me as my only friend, or at least the only person of my age I talk to. Together we three survive on this hostile empathic planet.

Yesterday Grandma Nelly called me. She wanted to meet me and introduce some of her friends. And I definitely don’t want to. Especially meet those freakish old ladies who run some sort of herbal medicine club. I have told Grandma to stay away from that lot. Witches, they are all witches. So, I ignored the pleas of Grandma and didn’t go. I will meet her tomorrow after school (when she will be alone). Surely Grandma will understand. 

Meanwhile, I need to catch up with schoolwork. And I have to ensure Jake passes in Calculus. Poor guy just took the subject to accompany me. He has absolutely zero skill in mathematics. I don’t worry about him, just sort of feel responsible for him. 

So, I got my books and stationary and sneaked out of the window. Jumping from the first floor can be risky. But breaking a leg is still better than being stopped by mom for half an hour session of empathy and female nurturing skills. As if it is my problem that men need to be appreciated for every little thing they do right.

I tiptoed through the garden and went straight to Jake’s house. His room was on the ground floor and there was an enormous window looking out on the back side. As always, he has left it open for me. Decorated in a typical cowboy fashion with a fake moose head hanging on the right wall accompanied by a lasso and a cowboy hat hanging by the side of his chair.

“Hoi girl! Late today. This cow boy though he has to herd you with his horse.” Entered our dear cowboy Jake. Yes, he is a sort of dumb.

“Ok cowboy. Time to study calculus. I hope you have solved all those differential equation questions I have marked. If not, then better say goodbye to passing tomorrow’s exam, good bye to passing this year, good bye to getting a good collage, goodbye to joining the football team.” Immediately that dorky smile was replaced by a gloomy face. Better be gloomy than ignorant.

“Yup! I think not. So give me your phone and start solving the questions or I swear I will break your legs and end your football career right here.” Sorry, this is the only kind of pep talk I know. But it always works.

“Ok lady devil. Let us start,” he sighed and with a great effort opened his book.

I was happy that he has at least tried some questions. That was better than I expected. We studied and joked around for an hour and a half. His mother brought snacks for us. A big sandwich followed by her specialty lemon tea. Certainly tastes better than my mother’s masala chai (the tea was good, but berating comments soured the taste). Jake’s parents appreciate my lessons and make that clear by treating me well. The lessons have helped Jake and a good math tutor is out of their budget right now.

I like them. They respect my boundaries and don’t mind my abnormal attitude of avoiding pleasantries (or not entering through the front door). I always think I was born in the wrong household. I wouldn’t mind Mr. and Ms. Smith as parents and their son Jake as my brother (don’t tell him that. It will break his heart). I always felt more comfortable in this house. In my house, I feel homesick.

Another half an hour pass and it was time for his football practice. He started growing restless but dared not complain. He in not standing up even for bathroom until I am satisfied of his ability to pass tomorrow. Quietly, he continued the work. Meanwhile, I enjoyed both of our sandwiches.

After another hour, finally his mind grasped some concepts of differential equations and we were both free. 

He immediately started changing in his jersey.

“p*****t. Let me at least go outside first.” I cried. It was not the first time I have seen him in underpants. But it was still not okay. Especially when he has muscles like that? These were the only times I didn’t want to consider him as a brother.

“What don’t like this abs, girl?” He asked with his foolish yet hopeful grin. 

“Of course not dork. Do I even have to teach you how to behave in front of a girl. That's why even after being the star footballer you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“You know real reason I don’t have a girlfriend. And wait, what you are a ‘girl’?”, he replied, faking amazement. Even the mention of football gets him in a joyful mood, no matter how bleak last 3 hours have been. 

My reply materializes itself in a form of a flying football aimed at his head. He easily caught it with both hands. I hate his reflexes.

Suddenly, we heard a small knock on the door. The door opened and Ms. Smith entered the room. She spoke in a serious tone, “I don’t want to disturb. But it would be better if you both can follow me to the hall.”

Jake’s mother knew I like to leave the way I entered. It should be very serious if she needs both of us in the hall.

I confirmed, “Ok Ms. Smith, behind you.” Giving a look to each other, Jake and I followed her. We could hear Mr. Smith talking to someone on the phone. From the sound of it, it looks like my mother was on the other end. Why is he talking to my mother? Is she complaining about me?

When we entered the hall both Mr. a Ms. Smith with an apologetic look gave me the news.

Grandma wanted to meet me today. But I didn’t want to. It would have taken less than 15 minutes to give a ‘hi’ on my way back from school. Even if I have to meet her witch friends, it would have been worth it. Because, “we are sorry to inform you dear Elena, just two hours ago your grand mother Nelly expired because of a sudden stroke. Her friends rushed her to hospital, but they declared her brought dead. We are so sorry.”

Why, you are sorry. I wanted to reply. Sorry should be I because tomorrow when I intended to meet grandma, I will have to put her in the grave. First time I felt strong enough emotions to collapse.