Page 27 of The Second Marriage
Gurratan glanced at him and smiled. “You can help by keeping me company and talking with me as I work. I’ve seen your mending and it’s appalling.”
“Harsh words,” Taral said, but Gurratan wasn’t wrong. Sewing was a man’s job, but Tadasho’s was done by servants, and Taral’s mother hadn’t cared to make him learn nonetheless.
“How did your heat pass? I hope Ehani took care of you.”
“She did, and Sejun too. I feel very well.” He watched Gurratan’s quick fingers pull the needle through. “Where’s Ram?”
“He went out with my father to look at one of the horses. I imagine he’ll be back soon. Sejun is still sleeping?”
Taral shook his head. “No, he’s awake upstairs. He likes at least three cups of tea before he’s ready to face the day.”
Gurratan smiled. “A wise man.” He turned the robe he was patching to sew along another edge. “Ram and I both like him very much, you know.”
Taral’s pulse began to throb in his temples. “He has a cheerful nature.”
“Hm. Yes, very cheerful.” Gurratan glanced at him again. “I have to admit I was surprised when you wrote and said you were soliciting offers.”
Taral unclenched his jaw. “I’m sure you know why I did.”
“Yes.” Gurratan pushed the needle through and drew it away. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
Taral looked through the window. He had wanted a chance to talk with Gurratan, but now that Gurratan had given him an opening, he didn’t know what to say. “The situation is less than ideal. You can imagine.”
“Are you not pleased with him?”
The throb in Taral’s temples was transforming into a headache. “It’s not that. It’s just that he’s so young and—and bright of spirit. And I’m—I can’t be what he needs.” He shook his head. “No, that isn’t right. I don’t know what he needs. I can’t be what he deserves, is what I mean.”
Gurratan made a humming noise. “He seems quite content, in my opinion.”
“He’s an optimist. I’m sure he hopes I’ll become more open to him with time. But I still—” Taral broke off. He couldn’t bring himself to speak the words. Outside, a chicken went by scratching at the dirt, followed by a series of half-grown chicks. Taral had tried so hard to turn himself into stone, but underneath that rigid face lay heartache, perfectly preserved. Sejun’s hopeful chipping away wouldn’t reveal the tenderness he wanted.
“It’s been so long, Taral,” Gurratan said gently.
“Thirteen years,” Taral said. “I know.”
Gurratan set his mending aside and reached over to take Taral’s hand in both of his. “Please stop blaming yourself. Do you think Jaysha blames you? I can promise you he doesn’t. Sejun is so ready to love you. Let him. My dear friend. You deserve to be happy.”
Taral closed his eyes as tears threatened to spill over. He swallowed a few times before he could speak. “Does Jaysha know?”
“Yes. I didn’t tell him, but you know how news travels.” Gurratan squeezed his hand. “He asked me to convey his wishes for your happiness in your marriage.”
Taral raised his arm to press his eyes against his sleeve. Gurratan said nothing, and after a few moments Taral managed to get himself under control again. The chickens were still outside, bobbing around in the grass, in the afternoon sun.
“I’m sorry,” Taral said.
“Don’t apologize. I know something of grief.” Gurratan released Taral’s hand and took up his mending again. “You never let yourself mourn, I think. And I don’t say that to chastise you, just that it’s not surprising that your feelings are so fresh now after marrying Sejun. You’re thinking of how your life might have been now that you have an example to serve as a comparison.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Gurratan sewing and Taral looking out the window, his throat tight and his eyes hot. Jaysha had never married, which Taral tried not to think of because it filled him with wild, unnameable emotions, as if birds were beating and beating their wings inside of him. What must Jaysha think of him now?
Ram came back into the house then in a cheerful bluster. The horse was well and Ram wanted to go fishing. There was no more discussion of Jaysha, and in the morning, Taral and Sejun made their farewells to Ram and Gurratan and went home.
Late in the day, as they descended the road into Tadasho, Sejun said, “Are you sad to be leaving Gurratan?”
Taral turned to look at him. “I suppose. I’ll visit again, though, likely when the baby’s born. It’s not such a long trip.”
Sejun was quiet for a minute, then said, “Then have I offended you in some way?”
Taral turned again in his saddle. Sejun looked back at him, mouth drawn, serious for once. Taral said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”