Note: Click here for more information on Quick Writes, the works I respond to, and disclaimers. Mistakes were kept unchanged. Also, spoilers ahead.
Date QW Written: December 5, 2014
Prompt: (TBA) This prompt had to be my favorite of all the five for Nectar. Basically, we were asked to write our own final chapter for the novel. Here is mine.
Through Rukmani’s perspective:
Puli was not a child of the land. I had known this since the moment he stared upon the open landscape with a quick express of loneliness before he returned his focus to the food Ira had prepared for him when he arrived.
At first, guilt would enroach my mind when I saw Puli play with the children in the town that he did not know. He would seem happy when they ran around corners to play hide and seek but when he was left alone I could see the face of a lost child who once seemed to know the liveliness of life before having it taken from him by a mourning widow with false promises.
However, I did try to keep my promises of health I spewed the day after Nathan passed away. After resettling with Selvam and Ira in a small hut Selvam had purchased with the money from the hospital, I convinced Puli to come with me to see Kenny.
When Kenny saw me approach with Puli, a quick look of surprise crossed his face before a strange expression of pity replaced it when he saw Puli’s hands.
“Kenny,” I had begun, surprised by own brazeness in using his name, “I’ve come for your help. Not for myself but for this child.” Strangely enough, Kenny had only nodded and led us into the hospital without a single word.
During the time Puli was sitting on a bed as Kenny examined his hands, Kenny only asked a few questions about Nathan. Puli seemed wary at first of Kenny probing hands but was calmed when I promised to buy him some sweets in the town later. Kenny proceeded to examine Puli and write in a thin, notebook beside. After an hour, Kenny patted Puli on the head and told him to run off to the town before I followed.
After Puli smiled at his words and dashed out of the room, Kenny turned to me with a pensive expression.
“He can be healed,” he began slowly. “I’m just surprised you had come for my help.”
I said nothing at that only thanked him and walked after Puli.
Years later, I was sitting with Puli as we both watched the rice crops billow in the window.
“This is not my home,” he had said suddenly, bringing back memories of rain in the city and my husband full of hope. My heart had clenched at his words.
“But I will stay. For it is not hard to get used to,” he ended while looking at his bandaged hands. I looked at him lovingly, finally content.