Paying Respects

Mary stepped aside from the doorway.

Aditya lifted his suitcase and stepped inside with his leather bag.

The ground-floor living room was not particularly large, and the furniture was all new. A faint lemon scent hung in the air, mingled with the smell of old wood.

Aditya sat on the sofa, and Mary sat opposite him.

After sitting down, Mary called, "Aisi, bring some water."

The housekeeper came out of the kitchen with two glasses of water.

Mary was very pale, and her golden-green eyes seemed moist. In a low voice, she asked, "What did he send you here for?"

Aditya looked up at Mary and explained:

"Your father is very ill. He can't even get out of bed anymore. The doctor said he won't make it through this month. He wants you to go to India. He wants to see you, one last time."

Mary's lips moved, then began trembling uncontrollably.

She said nothing. Covering her face with both hands, she lowered her head.

After a while, Mary lowered her hands, revealing her deathly pale face and reddened eyes.

"Is he going to die too?" Mary murmured, as though talking to herself.

Aditya shifted forward on the sofa. Opening his leather bag, he took out Solomon's letter to Mary and the bracelet and pendant wrapped in a soft cloth, placing them all on the coffee table.

"Your father wrote the letter. He asked me to bring you the bracelet and pendant," Aditya told the distraught Mary.

Mary looked at the coffee table. After a while, she reached for the bundle of soft cloth, slowly unwrapped it, and picked up the silver bracelet and copper pendant inside. Her fingers were white as she gently touched the two old objects.

"He asked you to take me to India?" Mary asked quietly.

"He just wants to see you one last time. Your father misses you terribly. He's stuck in India and can't leave, or he would certainly have come himself."

"I'll be staying in Israel for a little over a week this time. Give me your answer once you've thought it through. If you want to go back, I'll take you to India to see him. If you don't, that's all right too. I'll pass your words on to him, so the trip won't have been for nothing," Aditya said.

"Where are you staying?" Mary looked up and asked.

"I haven't decided yet. I came straight here after getting off the plane," Aditya said.

Mary put the pendant back on the table. Looking at Aditya, she said, "Stay here for now. There are plenty of empty rooms in the house."

Aditya looked at Mary in surprise. Feeling that she did not seem to be joking, he said, "Thank you, then."

"There's no need to thank me. Thank you for coming all this way," Mary said gently, a little color returning to her face.

Aditya smiled.

"Aisi, make a little extra food later. And remember to tidy up that room on the west side of the ground floor."

The housekeeper poked her head out of the kitchen and nodded.

"Sit here for a while. The housekeeper will have the food ready soon. I need some time alone, so I won't keep you company for now," Mary said apologetically.

"It's fine. Don't worry about me. There's no rush, and try not to be too upset," Aditya consoled her.

With her head lowered, Mary went up to the second floor, her footsteps light on the stairs.

Aditya took a sip of water. He knew this could not be rushed.

Mary had to work it out for herself. Pressuring her would be useless and might even provoke her into resisting.

Of course, Aditya would not simply wait around either. If Mary still had not given him an answer tomorrow, he had other methods waiting for her.

Solomon could not come. Since Aditya had made a promise to the old Jewish man, he would do everything he could to bring Mary back so the old man could see his daughter one last time.

Next, Aditya felt he needed to proceed with his plan step by step. Ideally, he would make Mary willing to stand up on her own and take the initiative to return to India with him.

At lunchtime, Mary came down from the second floor.

"I'm sorry, I haven't made up my mind yet. Sorry for the trouble, but please stay another night. I'll decide tomorrow."

Mary's cool voice drifted down from the stairs.

Aditya nodded without saying anything more.

Aisi had already set lunch on the table. The plates held roast potatoes, stir-fried green peas, and a plate of stir-fried chicken. There was also some sliced bread and salad.

One look was enough to kill Aditya's appetite. His thoughts began to wander.

Just wait a little longer. Once Diya expands some more, I'll hire a Chinese cook. These foreigners really don't know how to eat. What is this mess they cook?

Aisi came over and poured Aditya a glass of milk. He murmured, "Thank you."

Mary picked up the bread first, tore off a piece, and dipped it in potato sauce before eating it.

Aditya also picked up some bread and took a bite. It was so hard it nearly knocked his teeth out. He then forked a piece of chicken into his mouth. This time, his tongue could hardly be bothered to move. It truly was bland and tasteless.

Beside him, Mary suddenly asked, "You're from Varanasi, so you must be Hindu, right? Aren't Hindus vegetarian?"

Aditya had slipped up. He knew Mary had probably asked because she had seen him eating chicken.

As a Brahmin from Uttar Pradesh, he was supposed to be forbidden from eating meat. In India, that was one thing-no one cooked him any meat dishes anyway. But here at Mary's house, he had forgotten all about it and started eating chicken without thinking.

Aditya thought for a moment. He was certain Mary was merely curious and could not possibly know much about India.

So he put down his fork and said with a smile, "India is vast. Religious customs differ from state to state. Even among the upper castes, it depends on the area. In Varanasi, some eat only vegetarian food, while others eat fish and chicken. Our Mishra Family doesn't have so many rules."

"Oh."

Mary asked no more questions and focused on her meal. She ate very little and soon finished.

She eats so little. How did she grow so tall and slender? Aditya could not understand it.

Aditya finished quickly too, not because he ate little, but because there was hardly anything worth eating.

Seeing that both of them had put down their knives and forks, Aisi came over to clear the table.

The two sat quietly on the sofa.

Aditya spoke first. "Miss Mary, would you mind telling me where your mother is buried?"

Mary looked over, blinking her golden-green eyes. "Why are you asking?"

"I'd like to pay my respects. Your father keeps talking about her, but he can't come, so I'll visit on his behalf," Aditya said.

Mary fell silent, her expression suddenly stiffening.

Aditya did not press her. He picked up his milk and took a sip.

"It's not far from here," Mary finally said. "A little over twenty minutes on foot."

"When would be convenient for you?" Aditya asked.

"Wait a moment. I'll change and take you there," Mary said softly.

"All right." Aditya nodded.

With that, Mary went upstairs. Just as Aditya had expected, she was gone for over twenty minutes.

When Mary came down again, she had changed into a thin black sweater and blue jeans. She looked more put-together than before, but without a skirt to conceal them, her long, full legs were now revealed.

As they headed out, Mary took a blue gauze scarf from the small cloth bag in her hand. Then she deftly wrapped it around her head and face.

On the way, Aditya walked behind her to the right, keeping two steps between them.

The afternoon in Tel Aviv was still scorching, and there were few pedestrians on the streets.

Wafts of fragrance drifted back from ahead. Aditya accidentally breathed one in. He did not know whether he was imagining it, but he caught a milky scent.

Mary's legs were long, and she was almost as tall as Aditya. She took long strides, her jeans stretched taut.

Soon, the two reached their destination.