Machinations...1

                            Since quite long, our rental room had been gathering dust. Life was already replete with fluctuating fortunes and now with no persistent source of money, it’s no wonder why my parents were in doldrums. Father used to be a property dealer who everybody vouched to be trustworthy and noble in spirit. He made bargains that were nothing short of astonishment. He had earned a good name in society and among his patrons. But later… when he married a widow his life took a turn for the worse. While she sponged on his wealth he became more and more smitten by her enchanting guise. My father’s colleagues, who had an inkling of her dubious character, warned him but he rebelliously declined their suspicions. One second away from her, seemed suicidal for him.  Those who had enough borne his sudden unruly and wayward nature abandoned him forever. And sooner others followed the suit. He put his work at the back burner and steadily went expending his years of toil and labor through vain ventures for his wife. As if this was not enough my father’s tumultuous marriage sooner gasped its last breadth. She left him in lurch and no one ever heard of her anymore. Father’s state was miserable; he couldn’t work out the grounds that lead to this split-up. To down his plight he turned to drugs and if it had not been his old flame, Quvella, he could have died in despair. She used to be his classmate in college and was very much inclined to his undeniable allure. When my father wedded that widow he didn’t forget to give his old friend a gallant invitation and she reciprocated by turning up in time. Later when she became alive to the unfortunate break up and my father’s waning health, she seriously intended to marry him notwithstanding his burgeoning debts, bankruptcy and his one child, borne out of that turncoat widow. Though there were some hiccups, both walked down the aisle amidst a small gathering with my to-be step mom treasuring every moment of it!                               
                        Quvella was the crutch of her family. Was she my stepmother I doubt that?  In the morn she worked as a kindergarten teacher and during night time at a call centre. Father, crippled by past memories, couldn’t take care of himself let alone partaking her burdens. My age, my expertise was not ripe enough to permit me to pursue a job and hence I could hardly think of taking over the bastion. Perplexingly, amid all this she never lamented her misery or regretted her decision to marry an insolvent man rather she behaved as a mom highly contented with life, ardently nursing her family and unaware of the stark tribulations she’s facing day by day.
                    As her health began staggering on the brink, she began even more concerned about my future. To address our dwindling resources she decided to rent one of our rooms and taking cue from her stoic resolve, none of us protested.
                                              Once I asked her abruptly as to what made her choose this detested living… didn’t you have any other option? Her eyes seemed to glisten but nothing escaped her lips. Then sighting my imploring stare she laughed and quipped, “Will you, detective Martha, give over with your inquiries and call daddy for dinner. That little thing I‘ll tell when time deems it fit.
                          As time waltzed by I passed college and my mom was literally in splits. How much I looked forward to earn and wipe out all the debts in one fell swoop! I vowed to make my mom resign from that dreary job and she, though reluctant at first, succumbed to my earnest yearning.
                                    The other day when we were gambling away time through a stroll in our little garden,one young hunk slipped in. On interrogation it became clear that he wanted a room for five nights. Judging the expression of my mom it became evident that she would have hugged him so I quickly took him away towards the till now deserted room.
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