Inheritance

by Balli Kaur

  ‘No,’ the driver said, sullenly. ‘Just working only.’

  When he finally arrived, he saw Dennis standing at the entrance to the restaurant. ‘Forty minutes,’ Dennis said. ‘I didn’t even go in because I didn’t want to be waiting alone.’ His mouth was set in a grim line.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Narain said. Out here in the open, he couldn’t draw Dennis closer and apologise more tenderly. Except for in Dennis’s condominium, they had to present themselves as business associates or family friends. They could also pass as cousins, with Dennis’s Portuguese Eurasian ancestry giving him the same skin tone as Narain. Maintaining the stance of a teacher seeking an explanation, Dennis always prolonged these awkward moments. Narain immediately became the wayward student, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. ‘I didn’t actually leave that late. The traffic is building up. I had this unpleasant taxi driver.’ Dennis sighed and walked ahead of him into the restaurant.

  ‘So what was it this time?’ Dennis asked when they were seated and their drink orders had been taken.

  Sensing that he could not get away with a lie tonight, Narain opted for the truth. ‘It was Amrit. My father went out and bought her drinks tonight so she wouldn’t be tempted to go out and find a party.’

  Dennis’s face softened. ‘That’s terrible,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t believe he would do that,’ Narain said. ‘It’s just encouraging her. He must be going mad, staying at home all the time as he does. He honestly thinks this is the right thing to do.’

  ‘On the other hand, I can see the logic behind it,’ Dennis pondered aloud, ‘as strange as it seems.’

  ‘Let’s not talk about her any more,’ Narain said. ‘I’ve said it – there, it’s out. I don’t want to drag my problems with Amrit into the new year.’ His face brightened. ‘Did you write your resolutions? I’ve got mine. I suppose I’ve already told you my first one: stop getting mixed up in Amrit’s problems.’ This resolution was written nowhere. It had only occurred to him now. ‘I shouldn’t have lingered to argue with my father tonight. I had plans with you. Next time I’ll just give him my input and leave before it turns into a debate.’

  There was a pause, an expression registering on Dennis’s face. It was a look that, over the years, Narain had come to recognise on these men in his life. It was the same mix of weariness and gentleness that appeared when adults were left with no choice but to explain to children the facts of their world. ‘Narain,’ Dennis said, ‘as long as you’re living there, she’s going to be your problem. You’ll be involved wholeheartedly.’

  Narain looked away. From the window, the city shone like a jewel. Revellers sauntered past in gathering crowds. ‘I can’t just pack up and leave home,’ he said.

  ‘You’ve done it before,’ Dennis said. This, too, was familiar to Narain. Men always thought they could motivate Narain by citing his previous brushes with rebellion. They appealed to his history and told his tales as if they had been there themselves. Before Dennis, Narain had been with Alex, a German expatriate who ridiculed Narain for believing he could maintain this double life. Alex had taken every opportunity to remind Narain of his first affair, Adam. Narain did little to protest such taunts from Alex because they made him nostalgic for those days – fleeing from his home as Amrit’s engagement dissolved, rushing into that maze of back lanes as if he already knew its turns and corners, pressing his lips to Adam’s as the smoggy air swelled to greet the monsoon. Each time he got a haircut now he remembered every titillating sensation of that evening: Adam’s warm chest, the pelts of rain surprising the nape of his neck. He had sneaked into the flat later that night to collect a few of his things and returned to the back lane to rent a cheap room, opening his door only for visits from Adam. For six weeks, not a word from his family. His chest had housed a hard ache during the first days, as he pictured the shadows on Father’s face darkening at the knowledge of another betrayal. He thought often about what was going on in the flat in his absence, watching the details of Amrit’s broken engagement play out like a muted movie. The family would return the rings, cancel the invitation orders, haggle over the return of the venue deposit. Narain had expected that such stories would always occupy his mind, whether he ever heard from his family again or not, but soon his daily life began to take on a routine that did not include them. In their absence, there was Adam and the bustle of the back lane to fill his days. ‘I have never been so happy,’ he had told Adam. Recalling that he had said these words to Jenny years before on that lawn in Iowa, Narain had been struck by how pale that old happiness seemed in comparison.

  Then one day Amrit showed up at the flat. ‘I followed you from your work,’ she had said, her flitting eyes and matted hair giving the words a more sinister meaning than the simple affection she meant to convey.

  ‘Go home,’ Narain had said nervously, feeling exposed. He had pushed her away, roughly. Watching her stumble out onto the back lane, a knot of guilt tightened in Narain’s stomach. He had packed his bags to leave the following day, explaining to Adam that he would only be gone for a few days. ‘I just need to make sure she’s okay. I have no idea what’s going on over there.’ Adam had eyed the bags, filled with everything Narain owned, and did not say a word. Father was similarly quiet when Narain returned. Whenever he remembered his time with Adam, Narain thought about how silence had bookended both his departure and return.

  ‘I know what will happen,’ Narain said to Dennis, now. ‘I can’t just leave her. Look at what nearly happened tonight. If I hadn’t been there to talk some sense into my father, he and Amrit would be getting drunk together now.’

  The waiter arrived to take their orders. Narain scanned the menu and pointed to an item. He had lost his appetite anyway. He waited for the waiter to leave before he leaned closer to Dennis. ‘I’ll figure something out. Something will change.’

  ‘You’ve been saying that for years,’ Dennis reminded him.

  ‘I’ve known you for five months,’ Narain said.

  ‘You know what I mean, Narain,’ Dennis said. ‘You’ve never been in a serious relationship.’

  After Adam, there was Jai, a married colleague with teenage children. They met in hotels and had rendezvous in Thailand and Indonesia. Business trips, they told their families. Then there was the baby-faced Michael, whose blissfully senile mother never questioned Narain’s evening visits. Alex came next. His status as a visitor to Singapore was a relief to Narain because it made the relationship temporary. In between, there had been brief flings and one night stands that had originated in secret bars like the one they were going to tonight.

  ‘That’s not true,’ Narain joked. ‘There was a girl in America.’

  ‘This isn’t funny,’ Dennis said. ‘If you want to be with me, with anyone, you have to be able to give up something. Your family knows you’re gay. You just haven’t acknowledged it to them. You’re trapping yourself in that flat and you’re using your sister as an excuse – but really, you just don’t want to leave. It’s comfortable there.’

  Narain’s throat felt dry. ‘Why are we talking about this?’ he asked, after taking a sip of water. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve. We should be celebrating.’

  ‘That’s exactly why we’re talking about it,’ Dennis said. He sighed. ‘You were forty minutes late tonight, Narain. I don’t want to sit here and pretend it didn’t bother me. I’m not starting off a year with lies.’

  ‘That’s why I told you the truth about Amrit tonight.’

  ‘This is the problem. You’ve become so used to living a false life that you think you should be commended for telling the truth.’

  ‘Look at us,’ Narain said. ‘What difference does another lie make? Everything we do is packaged in lies. We can’t hold hands, we can’t kiss, we’re speaking in whispers right now because we’re so afraid that we’ll be heard.’ He felt a stab as he listed each of his limitations. Somewhere tonight, Amrit was doing all of these things with no fear of legal consequences.

  �
��Now you’re using the government as an excuse,’ Dennis said. ‘It’s because of them that we can’t live together, right? That’s rubbish, Narain. If neighbours ask, we can say we’re flatmates. Some young people are starting to do that; they want a taste of independence so they rent apartments now. That’s a lie I’m willing to tell because it’s also true – we will be flatmates. What we do in the bedroom is nobody’s business. The police are only going around arresting gays who flaunt it in public. Mocking family values, they’re calling it.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Narain said quietly, knowing that everything Dennis said was true. ‘I’m sorry, Dennis, I just can’t.’ How many times had he come to the same conversation and with how many different men? He looked pleadingly at Dennis, hoping that this time, there would be a different conclusion.

  ‘Then I can’t either,’ Dennis said. He looked mildly surprised at his decision, as if it had just come to him.

  They agreed to be amicable. Their plan was to attend the celebrations with their friends that evening, and then go their separate ways. They walked through the city, too conscious of the space that had to be kept between them. The streets were beginning to fill with people. Narain allowed the current of the crowds to carry him along.

  He filled the silence between them by talking about Gurdev’s visit. ‘It was strange. He showed up at the flat and asked me whether I had been spending any time at the university.’

  ‘How did he know about that?’ Dennis asked.

  Narain shrugged. ‘Somebody must have mentioned it. I have a cousin who works in the Science faculty. My brother started going on about blacklists and consequences. I couldn’t listen to any of it. All of that fear. He thinks I’ll lose my job – or worse: have my picture on the news.’

  ‘Imagine what my work would do to me if they knew,’ Dennis said. He was a researcher for one of the news radio stations. ‘That would be the end.’

  ‘But it hasn’t stopped you,’ Narain pointed out. He and Dennis had met through a small underground group, mostly postgraduate students who were dissatisfied with the government. Alex’s friend, Wei Yi, had invited him into the group. The group used to meet on weekends, in Alex’s apartment, Alex being unafraid of consequences because of his diplomatic immunity. After Alex was posted to London, Narain urged the group to stay together. He found other locations for them to meet and plan – they had picnics in parks, study groups in libraries where they passed extensive notes to each other, and long drives across the country. They dubbed these last ones the Forty Minute Meetings because that’s how long it took to cross the length of Singapore by car. There were members of the group who only showed up to the occasional meeting, and few of its original members still remained. Many had been scared off by the prospect of being caught, but to Narain, the small possibility of such consequences was motivating. They renewed his enthusiasm for this struggle against the government’s increasing oppression tactics. Of course he didn’t want to be caught, but he also doubted that he was being watched in the way that Gurdev had warned him about. Rumours about punishments for dissidents were a government tactic, a bogeyman to keep people in line. This knowledge fired him up even more. In the past few years, the monotony of his days at work and his nights at home had become unbearable. He looked forward to these meetings; they made him feel as if he was truly living, not merely existing.

  ‘Nothing has to change between us,’ Narain said unconvincingly, as they approached the end of the empty street. There were two side lanes to pass through and then they would be inside the club.

  Dennis said nothing and glanced at his watch. ‘About an hour and a half till midnight,’ he said. He looked at Narain and sighed. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Narain. It isn’t easy for me either. We’ll remain friends.’

  They looked in both directions before they slipped through two black double doors at the end of the lane. The entrance was pitch black, but the beat of music and the murmur of conversation wrapped snugly around Narain. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark as he stepped cautiously towards a sliver of light at the end of the hallway. His foot caught on something – a vent or a jutting floorboard – and he reached out to Dennis for support, but his arms drifted through the air. Narain called out Dennis’s name and realised he was gone.

  Knowing that his voice was drowned by the music, Narain vented loudly at Dennis, shouting out the truth behind all of the excuses he had created over their short relationship. He stopped when his voice became hoarse. He made his way towards the bar to get a drink of water.

  ‘You made it,’ called a familiar voice. It was Wei Yi. She took his hand and guided him through the cramped space.

  ‘He promised we’d at least spend New Year’s together,’ he told Wei Yi when they settled at the bar. In the faint bluish glow, Wei Yi’s pageboy haircut gleamed. She gave him a sympathetic kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Tell me everything,’ she said. Narain appreciated that she asked to hear the story, even though it sounded exactly like every relationship he had been in. After he finished, she simply reached over the bar and picked up a bottle of whiskey. ‘Have you tried it with green tea?’ she asked. ‘Jasmine green tea – the bottled kind.’

  Narain made a face. Wei Yi gave him a very stern look. ‘You don’t know that you won’t like it. Just try.’ She waved to get the bartender’s attention and made her order in Chinese. A few more of their friends entered – Jay, Fadi, Luke. Along with Wei Yi, these were the only people who knew Narain for who he was. They had formed the collective together, starting at Alex’s house and then boldly moving their meetings to public places. Their boldest initiative was handing out fliers at the university, a move suggested by Jay and Fadi after they were threatened by a police officer who found them sitting and holding hands on a park bench one night. Luke, Wei Yi’s twin brother, had been the one to introduce Narain to a string of underground bars like this one – shophouses converted at night for a particular clientele.

  Wei Yi handed Narain a glass and asked the others for their orders. Narain took a sip of the whiskey and green tea combination expecting not to like it, but it didn’t taste too bad. He gave Wei Yi a thumbs-up. She grinned back at him. Music pulsed through the room and warm bodies pushed past each other, crammed into every space.

  ‘Resolutions?’ asked Fadi. He gave Luke a nudge. ‘You go first.’

  ‘Save more money,’ Luke said.

  There was a collective groan from the group. ‘Typical,’ Wei Yi said.

  ‘Hey, things are expensive and my stingy company doesn’t believe in end-of-year bonuses.’

  ‘You’ll get something at Chinese New Year,’ Narain pointed out. ‘That’s only a month away.’

  Fadi pointed at Narain. ‘You. Resolutions?’

  Narain shrugged. A look crossed between his friends; Wei Yi must have mentioned Dennis to them. ‘Aiyoh,’ Wei Yi said. ‘Oh well. Who cares about resolutions? Nobody bothers keeping them past January anyway. Every year I aim to eat healthier and exercise every day. Do fifty sit-ups, twenty-five jumping jacks, twenty-five push-ups. It doesn’t even last a week.’ She stepped close to Narain and linked arms with him. ‘To aimlessness!’ she cheered, raising her glass. Everybody laughed. Wei Yi’s breath was damp against Narain’s ear as she leaned in and whispered, ‘Kiss me again at midnight, okay?’ Narain did not remember ever kissing her. He put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. Dennis had never liked Wei Yi; he thought she only hung around gay men on the chance she might convert them.

  The rest drifted off to chat with other people, leaving Narain and Wei Yi sitting at the bar. She pointed at a television screen above the counter. ‘That’s my favourite show,’ she said. It was a local Chinese drama with no subtitles. Two women wearing stylish clothes chatted casually in a cafe that Narain recognised as being local. ‘It’s a re-run; I’ve seen this episode before.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Narain asked. ‘What are they talking about?’

  ‘They’re ric
h young housewives and they’re talking about their husbands being too busy to pay attention to them. It seems as if they’re complaining but it becomes obvious that they’re actually boasting and competing to show that their husbands have important jobs. The one in the blue dress isn’t over her first love but her family wouldn’t let them marry.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Family politics. He was the son of a rival business owner. In the episode after this one, she’ll run into him and they’ll start sneaking around together.’

  ‘Scandalous,’ Narain said.

  Wei Yi nodded gravely. ‘The thing is, she’s going to find out that he’s actually only wooing her to find out some secrets about her father’s business.’

  Narain feigned a look of horror. Wei Yi gave him a jab in the ribs. ‘Don’t make fun.’

  ‘I can’t believe you take these shows seriously. You’re usually such a rebel.’

  ‘Nothing says a rebel can’t enjoy a good story,’ Wei Yi replied. She took a gulp of her beer. A shadow fell over her face. ‘Narain, what I said just now about the kiss… I didn’t mean it.’

  Narain smiled and planted a kiss on Wei Yi’s cheek. ‘It’s forgotten,’ he said.

  She giggled and tipped his chin towards the screen. ‘Okay, here’s the best character, the brother.’ A thin young man wearing a hospital gown chatted casually with a doctor. ‘He’s a doctor himself, but now he’s got some rare disease. This is the episode where he’s told his case is terminal.’

  Narain couldn’t help chuckling. ‘Your Chinese shows are just like Hindi movies. So much melodrama.’

  ‘Yeah, but our shows don’t waste time with all that singing and dancing. I can’t keep up with your movies, even the subtitled ones. They’re too unrealistic,’ Wei Yi said, never taking her eyes off the screen.