Coconut

The cemetery stood on a rise overlooking the sea.

The iron gates stood half open, and Aditya followed Mary inside.

Inside, rows of gravestones stood in neat lines.

Mary stopped behind an old olive tree. Before her stood a small gravestone.

Aditya stood a few paces behind Mary. The name engraved on the stone was Sara, along with a line of Hebrew he could not read.

The wind blew in from the sea, howling.

Aditya walked over, crouched down, and brushed aside a few dead leaves in front of the gravestone.

"I came on Solomon's behalf," Aditya said very softly to the gravestone. "Solomon couldn't come. He can't even leave Varanasi now. But he told me to come and see you."

Mary stood behind him, her shoulders tensing as she struggled to hold back her tears.

A few seconds later, she spoke in a tearful voice. "My mother said that if he couldn't come, I shouldn't hate him."

Aditya turned to look. Mary crouched beside him, her eyes swimming with tears.

Aditya said, "Solomon is suffering. He can't leave India. He really wants to see you."

Mary wiped her tears with her blue scarf, then took it off and spread it before the gravestone, weighing it down with two small stones.

Mary stood up, looked at Aditya, and said, "I'll go back to India with you. My mother wanted me to go back. I'll see him for her."

"All right." Aditya nodded.

Mary said nothing more. She looked at the gravestone before her.

The wind tugged at her thin sweater and lifted her brown hair.

The wind was rather strong and carried a chill. Mary trembled and shivered.

Aditya thought Mary was a very awkward person. How could he describe her? She was like a fully ripe coconut, hard on the outside, but if you cracked her shell open, you would find it was all water inside.

Mary was deeply conflicted. She resented Solomon, yet she still could not let go.

She was a woman cold on the outside and warm within, Aditya judged.

Mary needed to find her own way out. Fortunately, she had already taken the first step. Her willingness to go to India with him was the beginning of letting go.

"The wind's picking up. Let's head back!" Aditya said, pulling his clothes tighter around himself.

"All right."

The two went down the hill and left the cemetery.

When they returned to the house, Aisi, the housekeeper, came out of the kitchen to greet them.

Mary went up to her and spoke at length, telling her she was going to India to see her father.

Aisi listened carefully, without a trace of surprise on her face.

She took Mary's hand and said, "Ah, you're all tough talk. Deep down, you've probably wanted to go for ages. Once you leave, I'll go back to the countryside."

Mary's cheeks grew hot. "Aisi," she protested.

"If your mother knew you were willing to go to India to find your father, she would certainly be happy," the housekeeper said.

"Aisi, let me give you some money!" Mary said.

"No need. I volunteered to help your mother look after you in the first place. Now that you've untied the knot in your heart, I can leave without worrying."

Aditya sat on the sofa without listening to their conversation. He went over tomorrow's visa application in his mind.

For Mary to return to India, she would first need a visa. He would have to remind her later to prepare her documents in advance.

At dinner, Mary ate a little more.

Aditya told her, "We're applying for your visa tomorrow. Have your passport and photos ready."

Mary murmured her assent.

Aditya added, "If you change your mind, say so tonight. Once we leave tomorrow, it won't be so easy to turn back."

Mary looked up and asked with a pout, "Why would I change my mind?"

Aditya smiled and said nothing more.

The first night in Tel Aviv.

Aditya lay in bed. The nights here were so quiet that he could hear the wind slipping through the gap in the window.

Aditya could not sleep in an unfamiliar bed. After turning over several times, he finally sat up and looked out the window.

Outside lay a pitch-black street, with only faint moonlight illuminating the orange tree.

Aditya suddenly thought that once he went with Mary to apply for her visa tomorrow, they could return. Dipti in Kanpur was probably very busy. She was probably complaining about him. Dipali in Varanasi might be missing him. She probably was not sore down there anymore. He should not have used so much force that night. He was so big; he should have been gentler her first time.

At daybreak, Aditya got up.

He made the bed, put on his shirt, and tucked his sacred thread back inside his collar.

When he went downstairs, Aisi was frying eggs in the kitchen.

Mary was already sitting at the dining table, holding a cup of black coffee.

"Morning." Aditya sat down too.

"Morning."

Mary answered. She wore a white T-shirt, her hair clipped back behind her ears.

Aditya continued, "We'll apply for your visa this morning. The Indian consulate is nearby."

Mary nodded. She had heavy circles under her eyes; she probably had not slept well last night.

After a simple breakfast, the two left one after the other. This time, Mary followed Aditya.

The morning sun was not harsh, and the sunlight was bright.

Aditya narrowed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. No milky scent.

Ah, a little disappointing.

When they reached the Indian consulate, several people were already waiting in line.

Aditya did not join the line. He told Mary to wait on a bench, then walked to a counter that was not serving anyone and said, "I'm looking for the person in charge of visas. It's urgent."

The person behind the counter looked up. "Go and line up over there."

"Please let them know. My name is Aditya Mishra." Aditya took out an envelope and discreetly passed it over.

"I told you, go and line-" The man behind the counter had been about to snap at him, then suddenly stopped and took the envelope without betraying anything.

The man looked at Aditya, then squeezed the envelope. After a long moment, he said, "Mr. Mishra, please wait a moment." Then he turned and went into the back room.

Aditya glanced back at Mary. She sat there as quietly as a statue. His gaze fell on her crossed legs. She wore shorts, and her legs were very fair.

Aditya looked for a while before withdrawing his gaze. He thought the sooner Mary's visa was processed, the better.

Solomon could not wait any longer, and he did not want to leave this girl drifting alone in this city anymore either.

If it could be done today, he would book the flights tomorrow. If Aditya was not mistaken, they would be able to leave Israel and return to India the day after tomorrow at the latest. Back to that magical place where the smells of sweat, cow dung, and incense ash mingled.

Aditya suddenly felt eager. India truly was a place he both loved and hated.

Just then, the man from the counter came out again, beckoned to him, and called, "Mr. Mishra, come inside to discuss this."

Aditya turned and called to Mary, "Come on. We'll talk inside."

Mary stood up and came over, pulling her little suitcase.

Aditya and Mary walked in one after the other, and the door closed softly behind them.

Aditya knew that getting through the visa hurdle had once again been bought with the name "Mishra" and a little "expediting fee."

Indians handled things the same way wherever they went. Aditya was already well practiced. Pay extra? Nothing shameful about that!

This world had closed many doors on Mary. She had wrapped herself in a hard shell, and Aditya very much wanted to pry it open for her.

Once they returned to India, he would pry open another layer, then another, until she could walk to Solomon's bedside with her heart at ease and call him "Dad."

That one word would be the most valuable thing Aditya brought back from this trip.