Chapter 8 / 51 · 1 min

Adaptation

Aparna’s husband, Subrata, wouldn’t let me leave.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” he said. “You’re staying for dinner.”

I joked,

“Then you probably hate me. Aparna never says anything nice about me.”

Aparna rolled her eyes.

“You deserved every bad thing I said.”

During dinner, Subrata did most of the talking.

Stories about giant fish caught in their pond.

Stories I’d heard a hundred times from a hundred men.

Aparna listened patiently.

Two years had changed her.

She looked tired.

Domestic life had worn her down.

Yet she listened with the same attentive smile.

Perhaps this was adaptation.

After dinner she brought out her child.

“His name is Agnil.”

She knew I didn’t like children.

So she didn’t ask me to hold him.

The boy looked exactly like her.

Around eleven o’clock I stood up.

“I should go.”

“Stay the night,” Subrata insisted.

“Another time.”

As I headed toward the door, Subrata lifted the child into his arms.

“Agnil, say goodbye to your uncle.”

For a split second my eyes met Aparna’s.

A hidden emotion flashed between us.

Just for a moment.

Two years ago, Aparna wanted only one thing.

A child.

And I wanted only one thing.

Her body.

I’m not your uncle.

I’m your father.