Fiction & Nonfiction

Love's Reach

Love’s reach.


Amanda woke up to the ring of her biological alarm at 6AM sharp although working on her thesis defense kept her awake for best part of the previous night. She is twenty seven and has been a Harvard research scholar in Psychology for the last three years. Finally, she got her thesis on the modes of perception in autistic kids ready for defense. Today is going to be momentous, she knew. Tying the shoelaces to go for a quick jog , Amanda thought about the day ahead. She felt excitement rising in her as she visualized fellow scholars, professors and students from her own, and other departments listening and looking at her as she performed in the auditorium. No wonder. She aimed high and dreamed to achieve her goals no matter what.It wasn't an easy life for Amanda, living as the daughter of Mexican immigrant parents in Los Angeles, US. They slogged hard to settle down to life in America. Amanda went to the local government school and proceeded to college, supporting herself with merit scholarships such as the Summa Cum Laude.


Grey shorts and a light violet tee-shirt set off her fair complexion to advantage. At five feet six inches, Amanda might be a bit plump but she carried the extra weight pretty well. Her hazel eyes sparkled with gaiety as she jogged on the side walk. Dark shoulder length hair tied back with a pink band gave her wide face a neat look. Fellow joggers smiled or waved. After returning from an exhilarating jog, she laid her clothes out before taking a quick shower. She chose fawn colored pant suit with a lavender scarf to wear for the event. A thin gold chain around her neck and a platinum watch on her wrist rounded off her toilet.


“Hey, Mandy, how’s it going?” asked her best friend Lorna, when she spotted Amanda near the department of Psychology.
“Hi, Lori, all’s fine here. Let’s see what happens,” replied Amanda pleasantly.
“How about some coffee before the grilling starts?” smiled Lorna, a post-doctoral fellow in the same field. Having faced the trials of defending the thesis, she was aware of the tensions thereof. The cafeteria was full. They brought their coffee and a muffin each to a corner table facing the floral patch by the glass window.
“I believe quite a number of people are expected at your defense, about a hundred or more.”
“So I will know how far my findings are going to help the community outside,” she said with conviction.


Ten minutes later, they were in the hall appointed for Amanda’s defense. Fellow scholars and students seated there, waved to Amanda wishing her good luck. Once the professors and examiners assembled, the defense began. Amanda argued and answered the questions on her thesis by the professors and the audience with confidence.

“So what is special about your thesis?” asked a light male voice from the gathering.

Amanda turned to the direction from which the question came. She felt a tingle of thrill running through her body not only because it came from someone tall, dark with big brown eyes whom she had never seen before, but also because this happens to be crucial question that established the validity of her thesis. Turning her attention to the audience, she answered.

“Autism is not recognized in some countries. I want them to know that there is something wrong with a child who keeps aloof, who never looks directly at you, never smiles and just never talks. I tried to impress on those to take a closer look at the child and seek help immediately.”

Unexpected applause overwhelmed Amanda. The examiners told her to come back after two hours to know the result. She walked in the lawn, waiting for her call.


“Hi, could we talk?” She turned to find the stranger, she answered at the defense minutes ago.
“Hi. Sure.” She replied smiling. “By the way thank you for letting me highlight some aspects of autistic kids.”
“I’m a father of a three-old autistic son myself.” Shock went through her body.
“Oh, I’m sorry. How’re you dealing with it?”
“I don’t know how. I’m an associate professor in Computer Science. My family is in Kabul. My wife died in cross fire between the military and the Taliban extremists. I got out of the country somehow. My parents take care of the kid.”
“How do I come into picture Prof. ..?”
“Karim. Well, I have this idea.”

Someone announced her name on the mike. “Amanda Peters, come to the Dean’s office immediately.” she turned to him. “I need to go.” Karim smiled at her. “Good luck with the result. Hope to meet you soon.”



----------------


Six months later, she was flying to Kabul with Karim as his wife. They saw shell-torn streets, a desolate city with people moving like nervous marionettes. The taxi halted at a single- storied house. A small boy came out and stood watching with vacant eyes. The elderly couple invited her in after hugging their son. They gave the new daughter-in-law a traditional welcome with a native dress, and sweets.

After a week, young couple flew back with little Raza to the US.

“Karim, your plan succeeded. The purpose of our marriage is served. How about the divorce we have agreed on?” Time to get out of it, she thought.

They were in Karim’s house on the Magazine Street in Boston. Raza joined a school for children with special needs. He loved his play-room and his new friends. He started to smile and talk with Abba and Amanda. His teachers were amazed at his fast progress.

“If you say so Amanda.”

Amanda’s dream to scale the heights of fame played before her. On the last day, before getting into her car, she looked back. A dismayed father and a puzzled son were looking at her as though they were standing on the edge of life. Amanda’s eyes welled with unshed tears of compassion and she ran back to embrace them both.


Listed under Editor's picks in Authors Newsletter,Dec 24, 2014. Thank you Jeff.