She ordered an iced coffee with an ice cream float and settled down to wait. There was something sad about the place. It was still spotless, but everything seemed dated and slightly worse for wear. The chrome on the bar had bald spots where years of customer elbows had rubbed the plate away. The metalwork on the tables had been repainted too many times and blobs of paint filled in the more intricate bits of the design. It seemed that this was no longer a trendy place to go. The world had moved on, leaving the venerable old ice cream parlour gathering dust. Maybe Colombo had moved on in other ways, too. She could hope.
Malini turned up late, as always. She wafted in, looking elegant in her linen skirt, floaty white blouse and sunglasses. She stepped inside, removed her sunglasses and looked around, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Chaya waved and stood up, uncertain of how she would be received.
She need not have worried. Malini came over and hugged her. Relief brought tears to Chaya’s eyes. She squeezed her sister back. Malini released her and stepped back, letting her hands slide down to take hold of Chaya’s. ‘Nangi, how are you?’
‘I’m…’ She remembered the plan. Brazen it out. ‘I’m okay, actually.’
Malini shook her head. ‘But how can you be? You and Gimhana… Nangi, he lied to you. All these years. How can you be so calm?’
How could she unpack that one? ‘Let’s sit down,’ Chaya suggested. When they were seated, she asked, ‘How’s Nayana?’
She was genuinely concerned about her niece. Nayana was an intrinsic part of this fiasco and Chaya knew, from growing up in Colombo herself, that children, even teenagers, were protected from a great many things there. Sex education hadn’t really existed when she was a child. There wasn’t any reason to think that things had changed. While Nayana had seemed okay when she’d last seen her, she had no idea of knowing how she really was, once the shock wore off.
Malini’s shoulders stiffened slightly. ‘She’s okay.’
‘How… what does she think?’
Malini shot her a quick glance and then looked away. ‘She thinks you should leave him, of course.’
Chaya nodded. Of course.
‘She says you shouldn’t stay with him because he cheated on you.’ Malini frowned and fiddled with a bracelet. ‘She seems to find it irrelevant who he cheated on you with.’ She looked mystified by this.
That was a surprise. Chaya thought back to what Nayana had said to her on the evening, before her flight out. It occurred to her that her niece had been incensed by Gimhana’s infidelity, but had shown sympathy towards the boy… man… towards Zack.
Clearly, times and attitudes were changing. But had they changed enough? Nayana’s moral code was clear: if he cheated on you, you threw him out. It must be nice to live in a world where everything was so well defined.
‘Can I see her?’
Malini hesitated. ‘Ajith…’ she started to say, and trailed off. She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Ajith would want to keep Nayana away from them until everything was resolved.
‘Does she hate me?’ Chaya said. Nayana wouldn’t disobey her father directly, but if she really wanted to talk to her, she could call or email. She hadn’t.
‘No,’ Malini said. ‘Of course she doesn’t hate you. She’s worried about you and thinks you’re slightly mad, but she doesn’t hate you.’
The waiter returned with Malini’s drink on a tray. Malini smiled at him gratefully and moved her arm so that he could put the glass down in front of her. She stirred it delicately, her bracelets clinking. The sound reminded Chaya of Amma. She sighed and picked up her own drink.
Malini avoided eye contact by looking down as she sucked her drink up through the straw. She still looked beautiful, but was no longer young. Tiny wrinkles were gathering around her eyes and her face had lost that glow that Chaya had envied so much when they were younger. Her hair was still black, but it was less luscious than it used to be. They were middle-aged women now. Chaya had been trying to grow old with dignity. Fat chance of that now.
‘Why did you do it, Chaya?’ said Malini, so suddenly that it made Chaya jump.
Her tone was accusatory, as though it was Chaya who had done something wrong.
‘Didn’t you know about him?’ Malini continued. ‘You must have realised...’ She cast about for the right words, but failed to find them. ‘You must have suspected.’
For a moment Chaya thought about pretending that she didn’t know what Malini was talking about. Malini studied her as she hesitated, looking for clues in her expression. She would know in an instant if she lied. ‘I knew,’ she said.
‘Before or after you married him?’
Chaya realised what her answer would mean. If she lied, Gimhana would be ruined. If she told the truth… her sister would think less of her. Ah, but that boat had already sailed. ‘Both,’ she whispered.
‘Why then? Why did you marry him?’ Malini frowned. ‘I don’t understand this.’
Chaya sighed again and squeezed her eyes shut. How could she explain such complicated reasons succinctly? ‘I needed a husband. He needed a wife. Neither of us was looking for anything more than companionship. It seemed… sensible at the time.’ She opened her eyes to see her sister’s reaction.
‘But…’ Malini moved her hands in the air, unable to articulate her sentiments. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘You seemed so happy.’
‘We were. We had a deal.’ Until he got careless and broke it.
Malini’s frown deepened, as she digested the information. ‘What are you going to do now? You have to get…’ she dropped her voice. ‘A divorce?’
Chaya shrugged. If there had been a way to put things back the way they were, she would have taken it. But the illusion of their marriage was broken. Now, all they could do was damage limitation.
‘But you can’t stay married to him! Not now that you know.’ For a moment, Malini seemed to forget her awkwardness and grabbed her sister’s hand. Chaya stared at her. Malini would never be able to understand what it was like to be desolate. To be so desperately lonely that you’d need physical pain to make yourself feel better. She had never been alone in her life. There had always been someone there – Chaya, Amma, Ajith, the kids – someone to reflect her charmed life back at her.
‘Why not?’ Chaya demanded, louder than she’d intended.
‘But you don’t love him,’ Malini said, as though that was all there was to it. ‘You can’t have a marriage without love.’
The laugh that escaped from Chaya was not a familiar one. It tasted sour as it left her mouth. ‘It’s easy for you, with your film star looks and your perfect husband and your kids that look like a TV commercial. You’ve always been surrounded by adoration. Everyone loves you.’ She pulled her hand out from under Malini’s. ‘You have no idea what it’s like to be the plain one that has to shout to be heard.’ Her eyes started to fill with tears. She blinked them away impatiently.
‘All I wanted,’ she said, forcing the words past her constricted throat, ‘all I ever wanted, was for them to look at me the way they looked at you. They were so proud of you. You were everything a daughter should be. But me,’ She waved a hand to indicate herself. ‘I was the boring one. The only way I could get noticed was to work so bloody hard and I still didn’t get recognised. It’s not fair.’ She smacked her palm on the table, making the iced coffee slop over the side of the glass. The icy liquid on her skin calmed her. ‘Not fair,’ she muttered, and used the napkin to dry her hand.
Malini was staring, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. Even now, she looked like a movie star. Slowly, she reached across the table for Chaya’s hand again. ‘I had no idea,’ she said softly. ‘I had no idea that you felt like this.’
Chaya sniffed and looked away.
‘Chaya,’ Malini said. ‘Chaya, look at me.’ For a moment, she sounded just like Amma used to. Chaya’s head automatically turned towards her.
Malini squeezed Chaya’s hand. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘Is that why you did all th
is? Made up a romance and married Gimhana? Did you think you had to do that to make us proud?’
She didn’t reply.
‘But Chaya, you didn’t have to do that. We were so proud of you anyway.’ She sighed. ‘And you’re wrong, you know. It wasn’t easy for me. Next to you, I always felt so… stupid.’
Chaya frowned. ‘Stupid?’
She gave a small shrug. ‘All I could do was look pretty and marry well. No one thought I was clever enough to get a good job and have a career and be able to talk to anyone about anything, like you do. All I can talk about is kids and homes.’ She smiled, a little sadly. ‘I don’t mind, it’s enough, but sometimes I wonder if I could have been more.’
Chaya didn’t say anything. She had always been bright and articulate. But she never would have thought anyone would want to trade beauty for that.
‘I was lucky,’ Malini continued. ‘I met Ajith. He’s a wonderful man.’ She looked down at her wedding ring and smiled fondly at it. ‘Without him and the kids, I’d be nobody.’ She looked up at me. ‘But you,’ she said. ‘Without Gimhana, you’re still someone. You can do things and live a life that’s totally independent. You have no idea what an inspiration you are to people.’
For a moment, they were both quiet. Malini’s hand was still on Chaya’s. They looked at each other for a long time. Finally, Malini said, ‘Of course, now I’m getting old, too. I don’t get to be pretty forever.’
‘Yeah well,’ Chaya said. ‘Some clever people can do really stupid things.’
Malini squeezed her hand again. ‘I’m sorry, Nangi,’ she said. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Nor did I,’ Chaya said, squeezing back.
They drank their coffees and talked about Amma and how things were going.
‘We weren’t going to tell her,’ said Malini. ‘But she was there when Nayana came home…’
Chaya winced. She had hoped that Amma would be spared any knowledge of the imminent scandal. If she and Gimhana managed to contain it, Amma would never have needed to know.
‘How did she take it?’
This time it was Malini that winced. ‘I’m not sure she understood completely,’ she said. ‘But she thinks you’ve left Gimhana.’ She paused and made a face. ‘At least she thought that last week. By now, depending on how her days have been, who knows?’
Oh great. ‘I’m going to see her tomorrow,’ said Chaya. ‘I guess I’ll find out.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’
Chaya shook her head. ‘No. I’ll be with Gimhana.’
Malini’s eyes narrowed. ‘So you’re going to pretend it’s all okay? Really?’
‘It is okay. Nothing’s really changed for us…’ As she said it, she realised it wasn’t true. Things had changed, but they’d decided not to let it affect the status quo. Not really the same thing at all.
Suddenly, Malini’s mobile phone beeped. She looked at it. ‘That’s my alarm,’ she said. ‘I have to go and pick Kapila up and take him to cricket.’
‘Oh.’ She didn’t want her to leave. They were only just getting things patched up.
Malini stood up and hesitated. She dropped a quick kiss on Chaya’s cheek. ‘Listen,’ she said earnestly. ‘No one hates you.’ She smiled. ‘We’re all just… confused.’
Chaya stood too.
Malini suddenly leaned forward and gave her a quick hug. ‘You’re my baby sister. The clever one that kept me out of trouble. How could I hate you?’
Chaya wrapped her arms around her big sister and whispered, ‘Thank you.’
Chapter Seventy
Gimhana – Colombo, 2013
Gimhana was lounging on the bed, doing some work on his laptop while they waited until it was time to go. Today’s task was to go and see Chaya’s mother. There wasn’t much point being early.
Chaya paced past, she stopped to look out of the window, tapped the glass lightly with her fingertips and then moved on. She was in full fidget mode, vibrating with tension. She hadn’t been this bad in years. He recognised the signs. If she carried on like this, she would be a mess, in physical pain, by the end of the day.
He saved his document and moved the laptop off his thighs. ‘Chaya.’
She stopped, almost still. ‘Mm?’
‘Relax, okay. Breathe. It’s going to be fine.’
She gave him an exasperated glare. ‘It’s all very well for you to say. It’s not your mother.’
‘It will be fine. If she’s having a good day, she’ll have forgotten that there was any sort of scandal in the offing and she’ll be really happy to see us.’ He knew her mother had a soft spot for him. He was, in her eyes, the charming and handsome man who made her awkward daughter happy. She’d made no secret of the fact that she had almost given up hope of seeing Chaya married and ‘settled’ when Gimhana came along. The fact that they didn’t have children was a source of much disapproval, but she’d given up nagging them about that now.
Chaya scowled. ‘That’s not a good day though, is it? That’s a bad day.’ She drummed her fingers on the edge of the table next to her. ‘She’ll only remember on a different day and hate me all over again.’
He considered that. His mother-in-law’s memory problems baffled him. Second-guessing it was like trying to tie down fog. ‘I suppose,’ he said, carefully. ‘But even if we explain everything, there’s no guarantee she’ll remember any of it.’
Chaya sighed and pushed her hands through her hair. ‘I know!’ She looked at her hands, tutted and grabbed a hairbrush. ‘There isn’t any good way to get this sorted out.’ She started brushing her hair in short, anxious flicks.
‘Chaya.’ Gimhana put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Perhaps you should take some of your anxiety medicine?’
She glared at him in the mirror.
Okay then. Maybe not.
‘It’s going to be a difficult day,’ he said. ‘At least do some breathing exercises?’
Her glare softened. She lowered the hairbrush. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’
Gimhana smiled. ‘Don’t worry.’
Chaya closed her eyes and breathed in, counting under her breath. After a few breaths, he saw her shoulders drop, not completely, but a little. It was a start. He felt his own shoulders relax a bit. Chaya was never very good at protecting herself from stress. Without him to help her, how would she cope?
Chapter Seventy-One
Chaya – Colombo, 2013
Chaya peered through the grille of the gate at the house. The garden was missing Thatha. Someone had cut the grass, but without Thatha’s careful pruning, the rose bushes spilled fading petals onto the lawn. The jasmine vines had shot out errant branches that criss-crossed the openings in the veranda. The house looked like it was besieged by vegetation. A heaviness settled on Chaya’s heart.
The gate was padlocked, so she banged on it to get someone’s attention. It was mid afternoon, but the sun was trapped behind thick clouds. The air was close and sticky, making everything seem damp and breathless. Sweat beaded on her upper lip. She wiped it off with a hanky. Gimhana had wisely stayed in the car, with the air conditioning on.
After a few minutes, Leela arrived, limping slightly with her arthritis. She looked suspiciously through the grille and spotted Chaya.
‘Chaya baby,’ she said, her crumpled features moving into a smile. ‘Just a minute.’ It took her a moment to remove the padlock. Chaya helped her open the gate. While they waited for Gimhana to drive through, Chaya looked at the garden, sadly.
‘She keeps saying he’ll come back and do it,’ said Leela, coming to stand next to her. ‘She cries when I try to do anything.’
Leela had shrunk in the past year. Amma’s moods were clearly taking their toll on her.
‘How is she?’ Chaya asked.
‘She’s having a nap,’ said Leela. ‘She was having a good day.’ She paused and brushed a bead of perspiration off her face. ‘At least, she was until she went to sleep. We’ll have to see what she’s like when she wakes up.’
Leela looked at the house and shrugged. ‘She and sir were like second parents to me,’ she said. ‘This is my home too. I have nowhere else to go.’
Not knowing what to say, Chaya smiled. Gimhana got out of the car.
The sound of the car door shutting seemed to spur Leela into action. ‘Come in, come in,’ she said, rushing down the drive. ‘I’ll get Nona up.’
‘Hello Leela,’ said Gimhana, beaming at her.
‘Gimhana sir,’ she replied, barely looking at him. Normally, she adored him. ‘I’ll bring tea,’ she said, disappearing into the house.
Chaya followed her in. Without the light that normally poured in from the veranda, the sitting room looked gloomy. Chaya ran a finger over the coffee table and found a thin layer of dust. Clearly, Leela and Amma weren’t able to keep the house the way it used to be.
One of the windows had its shutters closed against the sun. She went over and opened it. The sunlight that came in was weak from passing through rain clouds. It cast a dull light on the collection of framed photographs that Amma kept on top of the display cabinet. Chaya paused to look at them. There were wedding photos; Malini’s and hers. Her graduation photographs, undergrad and postgrad. There were photos of her niece and nephew at various ages. Right at the front was a photo, taken about three years before, of Amma, Thatha, Malini and Chaya, posing near the jasmine-covered veranda. Malini and Chaya were perched on either side of Amma’s chair. Behind them stood Thatha, a hand on the shoulder of each daughter, his face glowing with pride. It was taken the day before Chaya left Sri Lanka after a holiday. It was the last time that she’d seen him alive.
‘Who is it?’ Amma’s voice came from behind her.
A Convenient Marriage Page 27