by Gay Courter
I barely listened to her confession. My mind raced on. “We will marry this week.” I tried to catch her eye. “That was the—”
“Yes, well . . . I always planned to have the ceremony in Cochin.”
“Have you discussed this with Edwin?”
“Of course. My other children were married there, and he promised he would also be married in our synagogue in the traditional Cochini way.”
“Have you talked with him this week?”
“Not about the wedding, and certainly not about this.” She looked at her hand, obviously wanting to wash it off. “That was what you wanted, wasn't it?”
“All Edwin and I want is to wed this week, whether in Calcutta or Cochin or China!”
“We could leave for the west in a few days . . . you could marry a week or so after we return.” Her eyes darted like a trapped animal's. “I
don't see why you must rush.” When I did not reply, her hands twisted in her lap. With wonderful clarity I realized she was floundering.
“Friday morning would be best.”
She stood up and looked at the door as if it would open by desire alone. “If your father agrees, I will not stand in your way,” she said, and left me alone. I fell back onto my pillows, wondering: How will I ever be able to live under this woman's domination?
Bliss is winning. Winning brought an exhilaration I had never felt before, because I had never won before. That evening my father brought Edwin home with him. Both were beaming.
Without asking permission, we left our parents and went out onto the terrace. When we rounded the corner, Edwin clasped my hand and gave me a flurry of moist kisses that could have been considered discreet only by their placement below the elbow.
“Well, what did he say?”
“What did your admirable, generous, adorable father have to say?”
“My father may be generous and admirable, but adorable?”
“Don't you suppose Zilpah thinks of him that way?”
“Edwin!” I tugged my hand away.
“He said yes, so nothing else is of any consequence.”
“Yes to what?”
“Yes to everything. Yes to our marriage, yes to making the arrangements regarding your get, yes to doing it as soon as you and the family can organize everything.”
“Did he discuss my dowry?”
“That is supposed to be between him and my mother, but the subject was mentioned. In fact, I referred to it first.” Edwin stroked his hair back, something I now realized he did more frequently when he was anxious. “I told him that I did not care what your settlement might be, because now that I had come to know you, I would take you if you had not a single rupee to your name.”
“What did he say to that?”
“At first he was silent; then he showed true insight. He said: 'Many a young man would say that to a prospective father-in-law to impress him with his sincerity. Unfortunately, you are following in the footsteps of another fellow who courted my daughter and who made similar protestations to me. The tragedy is that I might have understood had he been a rotter after only her fortune, but his motive was more obscure and in the long run potentially more damaging.' Well, what could I respond to that?”
“I suppose you could have called his bluff . . .”
“How alike we are!”
“You didn't?”
“I did.”
“What did he do?”
“He was flustered at first; then he asked how I would support you. I explained that we could live in my mother's house and that my family's trading business had potential. My Singapore cousins will buy directly from me. Merchandise that I acquire from China as well as India should interest them. Also, in the Kerala region we grow splendid sandalwood trees, and sandalwood is one of the few commodities, besides opium, that the Chinese import from India. I asked for his assistance in developing my network, as a businessman, not as a father-in-law,”
“Do you want to sell opium?” I asked warily.
“Not especially. Why?”
Flooded with relief, I couldn't reply for a moment. “I just wondered. What else did he say?”
“He said that he was a man of his word and that he could not permit one of his daughters to leave home without a settlement to ensure her comforts, now and in the future.”
“I see why you both are so cheerful tonight.”
“No, you know why he is. I am able to smile only because once again I bask in the glow of my beloved.”
I made a sour face. “A poet you are not.”
“That may be, but you have not told me about your day. You must account for every second since we have been apart, or have you forgotten rule number twenty-two?”
I looked around as I attempted to cover the interlude with his mother and saw my four brothers coming across the lawn toward us.
Edwin's arm, hugging my waist, did not fall at their approach.
“Hello, Edwin,” Asher called.
He waved at him.
“My day was much quieter,” I said under my breath. “All I did was arrange our wedding date with your mother.”
“Your father said we would settle that this evening.”
“I have settled it already.”
Pinhas and Asher overheard the last sentence. “What is settled?” Asher asked.
“These two think that between them they can conquer the problems of the world,” Pinhas teased.
“Only one,” I replied. “The only one that matters.”
With a fierce tug Edwin drew me closer to him. “When?”
“Friday morning.”
His hands shot into the air to pull back his hair. “You are joking!”
“What is happening on Friday?” Jonah asked.
“We are getting married,” I announced as I hugged him and Edwin both.
“That's the day after tomorrow,” Asher said in the squeaky range of his changing voice.
“How did you . . . ?” Edwin gasped. “My mother wanted us to have the wedding in Cochin. She never would have agreed—”
“We had a nice chat and I convinced her this is what would make you the happiest. A good mother wants her child to be happy, doesn't she?”
“What a darling you are!” Edwin said, kissing me on the mouth in front of the boys and whoever else might have been looking.
Negotiations form the core of human commerce, whether the currency is money or trade goods or time or love. Over the years I have found that major setbacks come from minor points that have their roots in the pride of people who wield power for the sake of power itself. Even marriage, which should be a refuge from the tussles of the larger world, is often a miniature battleground where sides are taken and wars are waged. Looking back at that evening, I see that even without a plan, Edwin and I—I in the bedroom and Edwin in the boardroom— had prepared our troops for the treaty session that took place that night. Disarmed by the affection Edwin and I were demonstrating for each other, our parents capitulated to each other like a domino train.
“Nobody gets married in the morning,” Zilpah began.
“Well, we can't very well be married Friday evening,” I said smugly.
“Can't you wait a few days longer?” she added weakly.
“No.” I smiled and waited.
“I suppose I have no objection to Friday,” Zilpah began, “so long as we keep the celebration simple.”
“Only the Sassoons and the Salems,” Papa said.
“And Grandmother Helene,” I added.
“Of course,” Zilpah replied, “that goes without saying.”
“Do we have to invite Aunt Bellore?” I asked.
“How could we not?” Zilpah countered severely, then gave a rueful chuckle. “Besides, don't I recall that she was the first one you wanted to ask?”
I backed down.
“When do you want to leave for Cochin?” my father asked Mrs. Salem.
“As soon as possible.”
“Last time we permitted Dinah to leave direc
tly after the wedding, but I now regret that decision,” Zilpah said with a pointed look in her husband's direction.
“Absolutely,” he replied to gain a second to gather his thoughts. “We must have the seven nights for feasting and the sheva berakoth prayers observed here. They may leave anytime after that.”
Esther Salem glanced at her son, but his eyes were locked with mine. “Whatever you wish,” she said in a silky voice. “Perhaps when we return to Cochin, the children will indulge me by having a ceremony at our synagogue according to our customs. They are quite ancient and beautiful.”
“I would marry Edwin a dozen times,” I said to the collective sigh of the three adults in the room.
“I will arrange for a hazzan tomorrow,” Papa offered.
“Could we have a huppah in the rose garden?”
“Yes,” Zilpah cooed. “A lovely idea.”
“And some wine and cake afterward.”
“There isn't time to prepare much more than that,” Zilpah agreed. “Will that satisfy you, Edwin?”
Everyone looked to Edwin. “I believe a marriage is a contract, and as such it should be serious, not frivolous.” He turned to face me on the settee, where we had been sitting side by side holding hands. “Please, could you wear that green suit you had on when I first saw you sitting on the veranda?”
“That is hardly what a bride would wear,” his mother hissed at him.
He squeezed my hand and I knew what he was thinking. Rule number nineteen: all traditions began the day we met.
“There won't be time to have a new dress made,” I answered calmly.
Zilpah smiled tightly. “Dinah, there are several lovely new—”
“I shall wear the green outfit.”
My father stood and stretched. “What else is there to discuss?”'
Edwin rose to his feet, pulling me up beside him. “Only that I will always be grateful to you for giving me your daughter.”
Papa took a step toward us. “If you can say the same ten years from now, I will be content.”
Edwin rearranged his hair. His mother, who had been at Theatre Road since her appointment with me earlier, seemed relieved she could finally retire. The five of us walked to the portico, the parents striding ahead, Edwin and I touching each other in the shadowy background.
“I'll see you in the morning,” he said as he helped his mother into the cab of the carriage.
“No, Edwin, you will see a tailor in the morning,” his mother called over her shoulder.
“Until tiffin, then,” he said, waving as the carriage pulled away.
We followed my father into the house. At the bottom of the staircase he shook his head, and I hastily asked, “You do like him, don't you, Papa?”
“I am not the one who must like him.”
“But you do, I can tell.”
“A pukka chap. A very clever boy, I'll tell you that. First class, if he is what he seems,” he said, starting to climb the stairs.
I followed right behind and called up, “You don't trust him, do you?”
“Experience kills trust, Dinah,” he said as he reached the landing. “To be practical, we have little information about the boy or his family. I do not know what he told you about his prospects, but he has no capital. Only the goodwill of some kindly relations has protected him thus far, and the uncle who has introduced him to us does not have the most savory reputation. If there was an honorable way for me to protect your dowry, I would. As it stands now, he will control your fortune after the wedding.”
I gripped the banister. “You think that is why he is in such a hurry.”
“I did not say that, Dinah, but it is a possibility, one of many.”
“You are the one who selected him.”
“I invited him to visit, that is true, but the two of you have usurped my authority on the matter.”
“You are wrong about him, Papa.”
“I have no reason not to trust him and no reason to trust him, but it is to your credit you have embraced this union with such confidence.” My father kissed me on the cheek and retired to his dressing room.
Zilpah, who had been standing behind me the whole time, accompanied me to my room. “Good night, Dinah.”
“Good night, Zilpah, and thank you.”
She shook her head. “No, I did nothing. You did a good day's work. I am proud of you.”
“Do you think she will tell Edwin?”
“No, she could barely look me in the eye throughout the evening. She felt more shame than you did.”
“At least it is over.” I put my hand on the doorknob. “A small price to pay for Edwin.”
“He is a good man. Even your father is convinced.”
“He did not sound convinced to me.”
She patted my shoulder. “If he had grave doubts, he would never have given his permission.”
Yali came up behind us and handed me a package.
“Thank you, Yali,” Zilpah said. “I almost forgot. This came for you this afternoon. It is from Silas.”
I turned it in my hand. “Probably another book.”
“Dinah, don't you think—?”
“I already wrote him last week and told him about Edwin and that I would never write again. He may have sent this before he received my letter, or this could be his response.”
Zilpah sighed. “I should have known you did not require my advice any longer, but sometimes I forget you are not the same person you were when I came to this house.”
After closing the door to my room, I placed the package on the Clive desk. I was so weary I allowed Yali to put me to bed. I closed my eyes, but the moonlight that fell through the shutter bothered me. Groaning, I got up to reposition the slats. As I walked past the desk, the package caught my eye. Curious, I decided to open it. The book had been wrapped in a second binding of silver foil and embossed with an intricate rangoli design. Taking care to keep the exquisite covering intact, I slipped out the volume. Because Silas often tucked his letters inside a book, I held it upside down and shook. Nothing fell out. I opened the flyleaf and, holding it up to the moonlight, looked for an inscription. There was none. I turned to the title page. In the pale shaft of light, the letters of the title glinted like tiny iridescent flies. Silas had sent me his copy of the Kama Sutra.
28
Everyone could see that Edwin and I were linked in mind and spirit long before the culmination of the marriage ritual. The scene under the huppah hastily draped in jasmine and hibiscus is a blur I can barely recall. Surrounded by family, with my brothers and my sisters by my side, I saw no one else but Edwin. I sipped the wine and repeated the words when required, but any knowledge of those events has been superimposed by one lasting memory: Edwin's eyes riveted to mine.
After the breaking of the cup and the rounds of kilililees, he clasped his arm about my waist and never, never let go. Everybody talked about us. “So happy! Have you ever seen a bride and groom as jubilant?” they murmured as we passed, beaming.
Aunt Bellore pushed forward and gushed her congratulations. “I have never known a bride to appear so content,” she said to us both. “At least not since Luna married Benu,” she added in a tone that would have anyone, even Edwin, believe that she was praising us. Only I knew she meant her words as barbs to break the perfect bubble that until that moment had surrounded us.
Sensing my mood had changed, Edwin steered me away from the guests. “Dinah, my darling, what is wrong?”
“Nothing.” I shuddered. “Just chilly.”
“You must tell me. Rule number fifteen: there will be no secrets between us.”
“I hate her!” I seethed.
“But why?”
“Didn't you hear what she said about my father and mother?”
“I thought she was complimenting us.” His eyelids drooped with concern. “You told me your parents were a love match.”
“Yes, but . . .” I could not go on. Silently I mulled over my turbulent thoughts. My mother had adored my father
. Together they had produced three children they both had cherished. What had gone wrong between them? I could not recall any angry words ever expressed. The practical problems inherent in my father's long absences and my mother's overreliance on her friends had brought her into contact with other men. Now I had come to know the enormous power of a physical attraction. With my father away, with the privacy of her own house, with nobody watching over her, she had succumbed to her instincts. The evil force had been Nissim Sadka, not my mother.
And what of my father's love for her? Had it ever diminished? I thought not. Whenever he returned, the relationship had flourished. And what of my father's fury when he came home after her death? What of the burning of her possessions? What of his refusal to mention her again? Were those the actions of a man who did not love his wife? No, they had been the violent responses of a man whose lover had been taken from him cruelly. I gripped Edwin more tightly. What if anything happened to him? How would I go on? Could I take even one more breath without him?
Finally I spoke. “Aunt Bellore thinks happiness is an illusion that cannot last.”
Edwin stared as my aunt's bustle moved across the garden like a load on the back of a bullock-cart. “Vinegar comes from spoilt wine. Unhappy people try to inflict their sorrows on others in the hope they will experience some relief. In fact, all that ever happens is they sour further.”
“Why do you think she is unhappy?”
“From the first time I saw her, I thought her one of the most pathetic women I had ever met.”
“But she has so much.”
“She has nothing compared to us, for she has never in her life felt as you and I do this day.”
A surge of feeling so intense and so physical that I thought I could no longer stand upright coursed from my toes to my neck. I leaned against him. He gathered me around and pressed me to him. In front of everybody he kissed me on the forehead. The assembled guests began to clap and shout and fill the air with kilililees that were carried on the wind halfway across Bengal.