FLAWLESS

by Leena Varghese

  Max was assailed by a mixture of longing and bitterness. He held the squirming little body in his arms and pressed a kiss on the little head.

  Giana was already feeling so low that Max’s loving gesture brought a fresh surge of tears to her eyes.

  “Everything fine?” probed Max, huskily, as he settled Toby back in Giana’s arms and helped her with the seatbelt that she was fumbling with. Their hands brushed and Giana withdrew as if scalded.

  “Yes, of course!” she smiled, her best social smile.

  “Will he be all right at the meeting for a few hours?”

  “Uh, I hope so. I had no choice but to bring him along,” explained Giana.

  “Surely, your mother or sister could have...”

  “It’s...a busy day for everyone!” she interjected brightly, when she saw his sympathetic look.

  His gaze caressed her face and the air between them thrummed with awareness of a different kind. It was Toby’s attempts to grab the silver rosary hanging on the rear-view mirror that calmed the situation. Max stared ahead as he drove out into the traffic.

  Silence prevailed for charged moments until the glove compartment snapped open and Toby dug his hands inside to retrieve a colourful, stuffed parakeet. That grabbed Max’s attention.

  “No, Toby, keep it back!” Giana scolded, attempting to prise it out of the toddler’s clinging hands.

  Toby let out a distressed wail and Giana sighed. “I am sorry!” she apologised, looking at Max.

  “It’s OK, he can keep it.”

  “But...”

  “I don’t need it, Giana,” affirmed Max grimly.

  Giana fell into gloomy introspection. Why did he look so upset? It looked like a fairly ordinary stuffed toy. Then a thought struck her. Who did it belong to?

  “Whas mame?” piped Toby cheerily, now relieved that the adults seemed disinterested in his new toy and that it would not be snatched from him.

  Max could only swallow as another set of memories slammed into him. He steered round a turning, trying hard to ignore the iron grip on his heart.

  But Toby was as curious as any other two-year-old. He wagged his new toy and trilled again, “Whas mame?”

  Giana could feel Max’s growing tension that made him grip the steering wheel tighter.

  This time Toby sang plaintively, “Pwees?”

  “Eh?” Max glanced at the little one in confusion.

  “He has been taught to say ‘please’ before taking something,” offered Giana, softly.

  “Oh...” Max chuckled, his rich laughter reverberating in the car and Giana stared at him transfixed. Suddenly the mood was lighter. Max brushed Toby’s chubby cheek gently. “His name is Peppy.” He repeated the name once more when Toby couldn’t get it right the first time.

  Toby nodded wisely and said, “Pe-ppee.” He smacked the toy on Giana’s arm and shrieked, “Pe-ppee!”

  Giana laughed softly and hugged him close, relieved to see Max’s wide grin. “What do you say when you get something nice, Toby.”

  “Pweese,” carolled Toby.

  Max laughed again.

  “No, when you get something nice?” prompted Giana.

  “Pe-ppee good.”

  Another bout of laughter from Max filled the car when Giana gave a pained look.

  “Yes, Peppy’s good. Now say, ‘Thank you’, Toby!”

  “Thakoo, Toby!” repeated Toby solemnly, clutching the toy closer, just in case his mother changed his mind.

  Both Giana and Max broke into chuckles and Toby laughed the loudest with them. Then he leaned over and gave Max a slurpy kiss. “Mak favy!”

  Max sobered immediately, but couldn’t help the huge surge of warmth in his chest. He kissed the little babe quickly, his eyes as warm as melted chocolate.

  “I guess that was better than the words he couldn’t speak,” said Max, swallowing the lump in his throat, his attention back on the road.

  Giana was stunned by the vista of stark pain on his face. She averted her eyes, striving hard to remain unaffected by this big, gentle, compassionate man. But she was affected, deeply so, and she couldn’t help the wave of reciprocal emotions that hit her.

  *

  The parish council meeting at the church began late. Benjamin Fernandez was annoyed to see the newcomer accompanying Giana. He expressed his displeasure by grumbling that new members cannot be included in the decision making. But it was apparent that Fr Da’Cunha was very pleased to see Max. A new sheep added to the Lord’s flock was always welcome, he remarked beaming at everyone.

  The meeting began, finally, after a long debate on funds being collected. Giana was part of the catering team, responsible for breakfast, lunch, evening tea and snacks for the fete. She remained quiet and deliberately unobtrusive, scribbling down the points, while Toby played with Peppy the parakeet behind her chair.

  Half way through the meeting, Toby disappeared under the chairs and surfaced under Fr Da’Cunha’s habit, getting stuck in the folds. The old priest chortled and pulled the toddler out. Toby found it highly entertaining and repeated the game by disappearing under the ‘tent’ again. Max, who was following the discussion with a cloaked expression, could not help but smile at his antics.

  Giana rushed forward and pinned Toby by her side, glancing at everyone apologetically. While some laughed, a couple of members complained that she should have left him at home. Leading the charge was Benjamin whose voluble protests made Giana leave the meeting with Toby clutched under her arm. After a stern lecture to which Toby nodded solemnly, Giana brought him back and settled him behind her chair out of sight with a jam biscuit in his little lunch box and a slice of apple in each hand. He sat nibbling at it and fed some to Peppy too until his fingers were sticky.

  The meeting concluded before Toby could crawl under the chairs to create more mayhem. When Max finally got the vehicle out from the parking, Toby was already asleep on Giana’s shoulder. They drove back in silence until Max passed a wayside restaurant.

  “Do you want to grab a bite? You look really tired,” Max offered, impulsively, glancing sideways at Giana who had her eyes half-closed.

  She looked at him warily and shook her head. “I think we have had enough excitement for the day. Besides, Mamma would be waiting for dinner. I have a load of work for tomorrow as well.” She hoped he would not hold her to the promise she had made in the morning.

  He nodded, wondering why he felt so disappointed, when he had clearly no intention of taking it further. His mind was made up. His invitation of dinner had been purely out of gratitude, he told himself, as his conscience smote him. But he had incessantly thought of her all day. With it had come firm resolutions to keep his distance from her.

  “So, who was that overbearing, opinionated chap who considers the church as his private property?” asked Max conversationally.

  It had been quite evident that Giana disliked Benjamin Fernandez. All through the meeting, Max had witnessed the creep ogle at her surreptitiously, creating opportunities to work closely with her. But Giana had shot down all his plans with a quiet refusal. Max knew that she would never complain overtly about the wretched situation. But it was clear that she was becoming agitated at Benjamin’s outrageous overtures to grab her attention, not to mention the subtle attempts to touch her at every given opportunity. Twice, she had stepped away from a groping hand which to anyone would appear like a friendly touch. But Max had figured out the man quite early in the evening, fuelling his mistrust.

  Giana let out a breath and ran a hand over Toby’s head. “He is the parish council president,” she said with a non-committal shrug, unwilling to discuss the topic.

  “Is he troubling you?” Max brought it out directly.

  “Nothing that I can’t handle,” she said, closing the subject.

  It was obvious that she was uncomfortable with the discussion. Max brooded about it.

  “I hope you will be careful...and not...”

  “Put myself in a situation where he can take advant
age?” asked Giana, bitterness lacing her words. She had heard the accusation many times from her mother that she was deliberately inviting trouble.

  “No one can foresee a situation like that, can they? I am just asking you to be careful. I don’t think he can be trusted.”

  “I know!” she nodded, contrite that she had misjudged his words.

  They reached Giana’s house and she thanked him. He nodded curtly, before coming around to help her with a sleepy Toby who still clutched Peppy in his hands and was beginning to sniffle in agitation.

  “He must be hungry,” said Max with a sigh as he reached out to touch the little curly head with gentle fingers.

  Giana nodded, her eyes registering the painful longing on Max’s face before it turned grim and shuttered again. He seemed to know about children.

  “See you tomorrow at the same time,” called out Max, shutting the door and reversing the vehicle.

  Dinner time passed with Carol’s cross-examining questions and a warning that Giana should be careful in her conduct, now that she was a mother. She felt drained by the constant comparison with the other girls of her age who were either ‘respectably’ married or working at a career that enhanced their chances of a better future. A long time after dinner, after Carol’s taunts had subsided and Toby had been fed and put to bed, she sat tiredly at her laptop to answer her client e-mails for an upcoming catering order.

  She worked steadily but her thoughts strayed constantly. No amount of restraint could curb her from thinking of Max. Did he have children? Was he married or divorced? That thought made her distinctly uncomfortable. She had never thought of him as married. It made her restless. She shut her laptop angrily and paced the floor.

  Was there a woman in his life? Why was he so unhappy? Why would a man like him live alone? She longed to know more about him. But then that would mean exchange of information. Which would invariably bring them closer. He was breathtakingly attractive and she had no use for such feelings in her life.

  She stood on the balcony looking at the stars overhanging the sea in the distance beyond the cluster of palms. The house next door was silent today. Max had promised that he would not get drunk again. Had he slept peacefully today? The thought of him being unhappy made her inexplicably sad. As though he was linked to her at some deeper level.

  She peered at the derelict backyard shrouded in darkness. It was stupid, of course, this unnecessary complication, she thought disparagingly. She would make sure that she kept her distance and not get involved with Max Martineau any more than was necessary. She turned away and went inside, and fell on the bed in utter weariness.

  Four

  Max watched the object of his inconvenient fantasies push back a cluster of curls from her face to scrutinize the tickets she was stamping. The frown on her delicate countenance deepened as she shifted her chair away from an overtly smarmy Benjamin Fernandez who sidled closer. Giana sat across the ground where the fete was swarming into a mass of excited humanity, moving in spurts from one stall to the other. The food stall had been crowded all morning with breakfast coupons disappearing off the counter like crumbs carried away by industrious ants.

  Giana had been engulfed by the crowd until now. Max finally had a glimpse of her sitting hunched under the shaky tent that swayed in the breeze. He turned away to converse with one of the organizers about the mike system. He had worked all morning with the hollering team of men who tried fixing the shrill whining in the old sound system caused by the wind, his mind preoccupied with the beautiful, sensitive woman who sat there rigid with revulsion.

  They had travelled together the past week to the church without Toby to keep them company. Giana had made sure that the maid was present at the cafe to take care of Toby until she reached back home.

  The week had been bland. At least on a superficial level it had been nondescript, thought Max. They hardly talked except of banal things. He asked her about her day and she would repeat the same words every day with the same serene smile. The past week had confirmed that Giana Francois was an exceptionally quiet woman. Every question of his was answered with either a polite monosyllable or a definitive statement that brooked no further discussion. There were questions that buzzed for his attention, questions that he could not ask her directly. He had wondered again about her marriage and the man who gave her up. Did she still love her ex-husband? Had she found love and lost it? Did she miss him?

  Such personal questions were anathema to both of them. Some days they made the journey from the church in complete silence. It should have been boring. Especially, when there were no words to enliven the silence between them. Toby’s absence made it impossible for Max to sustain a conversation with Giana. Toby would have made it easier, thought Max ruefully with an inward smile.

  Yet, it was not boring at all. It was everything he had not expected. It was peaceful, even though, sometimes the tension seethed between them unabated, despite both of them staying clear of anything personal. It was pure desire that hummed between them like a livewire crackling, stretched to limits. It was there in the searing glances they shared. Her lustrous eyes would sometimes run caressingly over his face as though she could not help liking what she saw. However, it was never too obvious to cause any ripples on the surface.

  Max had not been able to deny the kick of pure pleasure that hit him every evening at six when he saw Giana walk towards him as he waited for her at the cafe. She was indeed the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Nothing could diminish the sheer joy of seeing the fingers of evening light playing in her glossy curls and the moist curve of her lips when she smiled self-consciously. He found it hard to remain neutral. The sway of her hips was unaffected. Her dressing was unsophisticated. She was mostly covered from neck down and never strived to attract attention. And yet Max had stood there staring at her, enchanted as though he was being offered a bit of heaven everyday at six.

  Then another image would intrude upon his thoughts to bring him back to earth. Strangely, he thought about Eva all the time just as much he thought of Giana. Eva had been totally different from Giana. Stylish and fashionably slim, Eva had been ambitious, vivacious, and self-absorbed. Always the star of every party, never the one to step aside from a challenge, never the one to take a backseat. Fiery, temperamental, and talented, Eva had been his wife for nearly six years. In those years he had been contented to be hers alone. At least he had not been unhappy until things had begun to chip away slowly, leaving the foundation of his marriage hollow.

  It was tawdry to make comparisons, he knew, for Max was not insensitive by nature. But he couldn’t help comparing the reaction he felt for the two women. With Eva, it had been controlled, practical, every little detail of their life worked out for stability and longevity. It should have worked very well, he thought, bitterness and grief lacing his thoughts once more as he hauled the speakers up on the podium ready for the musical afternoon.

  He glanced at Giana again as though his eyes couldn’t help it. His reaction to her was uncontrolled. It was unpredictable and too heated for comfort. He was aware of his own masculinity every time he was in her radius. He was drawn to her like a moth to flame, he thought, grimacing at that clichéd, dramatic allusion. The stress of being in control around her was taking its toll on him. He shouldn’t be feeling like this, he told himself angrily. It was a reaction to his irreparable loss and terrible loneliness and the lack of women in his life. But then he had never been a casanova to feel the pinch of it before he met Giana. He had easily avoided temptation, drowning himself in liquor and mindless bouts of emotional self-flagellation. Out of the blue it had struck him a blow...this blazing hungry attraction that he felt for Giana. Why was she becoming irresistible? She wrung his senses with just a shimmering glance, drawing out the most feral male reaction from him.

  He also felt fiercely protective towards her, which was strange, because Giana had never asked for his protection. She only demanded it by just being herself, thought Max. He had not felt like this with E
va. Guilt scoured him as though he was being disloyal to her memory. His wife had been an independent, emancipated professional who looked down upon a man’s assumed traditional role as a protector.

  Giana was independent too. But Max had no idea why he felt this way. As though she was pulling more than her share of burdens without a whimper of complaint and he needed to keep an eye on her and protect her. Especially, after that night when he had gone beyond all sensible behaviour and drunken himself into a stupor. She had come to him without fear with the intention of helping him.

  At least he had stuck to the promise he had made. He had emptied all his liquor into the toilet. It was cathartic. To throw away the filth he had accumulated along with the shame. The decision had been worth it. And he had Giana to thank for that.

  Instinctively, he raised his head to look at her for the umpteenth time and his fist tightened aggressively.

  *

  Giana stepped away from the groping hand a third time even as she stamped the coupons keeping them ready for the lunch that would be served within an hour. Her exasperation grew as Benjamin brushed past her, deliberately fingering her bottom while he chatted jovially. His eyes were hooked on Giana’s breasts, as though she was wearing transparent clothes instead of being modestly covered in a high-collared, calf-length frock.

  She was waiting for a chance to escape. The hectic morning had given way to a tiring afternoon and she hadn’t had a word in edgeways with the pompous parish council president who was stuck by her side like a blood-sucking leech. His constant pretentious drone was getting on her nerves. She had clutched Toby to her chest to ward off the man’s roaming hands.

  Now his insinuating comments were turning downright vulgar. His wife Susan’s presence under the same tent with them and the constant crush of people all morning had prevented him from being blatant. His wife was a quiet, unassuming woman with greying hair and a sad face. Now, as Susan had gone out to check on her children and Toby had begun to wail to be set down, protesting against Giana’s tight hold on him, Benjamin decided to sit close to her chair.