He understood a little better how she felt every time he left but only slightly. He could not possibly know everything that ran through her mind any more than she could his. There were things they said out loud to each other, things they whispered with a twitch of the face, and things that were stoically hidden. Mother and son were divided by age and role and by the desire to protect each other. But, though they could never admit it, their secrets were also designed to protect themselves and their relationship. Some things neither would want to know about the other even if they could. Some secrets saved them.
Saleem unloaded his bag and Madar-jan carefully rationed out what they could eat that night and what they needed to conserve for the journey. He gave her the tickets and passport, which she tucked into the drawstring pouch that hung around her neck, under her blouse.
“Aziz had another episode today,” she told him quietly.
Indeed, Aziz’s color was more sallow than yesterday. He lay on the bed, a pillow propped behind him. He’d gained a bit of weight since he’d started the medication they’d purchased in Turkey. He’d started walking, speaking a few words, and even giggling from time to time. Saleem did not see him much, and when he did, he kept a distance. Things were different with Samira. He liked having her near, her head against his shoulder as he talked about his day. But Aziz was a child who stared at him expectantly and needed so much. Saleem could not manage it. He turned away, ashamed of his own resentment.
“We need to get him to a doctor in England. The medicine is not doing what it used to. His color is not good, and again he is looking so tired.” Madar-jan looked defeated. Saleem wondered how his brother would fare on the journey ahead. “I’ll call your aunt tomorrow and tell her of our plans. Maybe things are better for them now.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Saleem-jan, we cannot depend on them. It’s important to remember that.”
“Why? She’s been telling us to come to London. Didn’t she promise to help once we got there?”
“It’s just that sometimes people want to help . . . but something gets in the way. I want us to be ready to rely on ourselves alone since it may come to that even once we get there.”
“Never mind with that, Madar-jan. We’ve got a room for tonight. The girl from the aid organization found it for us. Let’s go now before it gets late. All that rain last night, maybe it was roshanee, just like you always say.”
Madar-jan’s face twinkled like embers stoked by a breeze.
She quickly gathered their few belongings and they set off to find the Hotel Kitrino, the Yellow Hotel. The owners were a gray-haired couple, kind enough to touch Aziz’s cheek softly and to show them to a room. When Madar-jan tried to ask what they needed done so she could begin right away, they gestured for her to sleep the night and begin tomorrow.