FLAWLESS

by Leena Varghese

  His sweet Giana. His woman.

  She had become an inseparable part of him. This creature of fire and light and gentleness and generosity.

  It had been explosive! Just as he had instinctively known it would be from the day he had seen her. This elemental power that bound them irrevocably in its incandescent, blazing heat could not be mere lust! It was too powerful and it demanded utmost respect.

  Giana did not want a few moments of meaningless lust or merely one night of satiation. Neither did he! Giana wanted security. Was he prepared to give her that? She didn’t deserve less. He had floated rudderless since his family had died. Now, it felt as though he had found a kindred spirit, a little bit of his soul.

  But within a few seconds of that momentous self-discovery his little soul mate was moving away from his embrace. Giana stepped out of his arms and he felt it as acutely as though someone had cut off his air supply.

  “It was life-affirming for me too, Max. I cannot bind it in mere words. But the truth is that no one can ever make me feel like you do. So I must look away.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I can’t ignore Toby. I don’t know how my mother would feel about us being together. So I...We should not meet again. Definitely not alone. I don’t think I can...uh...”

  “Keep away from me?”

  “Yes,” she said, admitting the truth. “We have to stop seeing each other.”

  She heard Max draw a harsh breath and knew that she had drawn blood. The sound tore away scraps of her heart. Her words had sawed their indefinable relationship into two.

  Max stood against the brilliance of the lightning flashes, bewildered and in pain. As though one of those blazing bolts had struck him to cinders. It might as well have been, the way he felt. The thought of not seeing her nearly gouged his heart out. He had never felt this helpless need to cling on to another human being as he did at that moment.

  His hands clenched by his sides in helpless frustration. They were back to square one. He saw her turn away and go into the bathroom. She returned after splashing her face with water and some semblance of order in her dress and hair. She was back to her composed self. At least, apparently. And unshakable, the way he had known her for months.

  The phones were not working. In the next couple of hours as the hurricane raged unabated outside, Giana curled up like a crumpled piece of paper on the floor at the corner of the windows. As though she had been battered and flung aside by the hurricane itself.

  Max sprawled on the couch, an arm thrown across his eyes. He fell into fitful sleep, his chaotic thoughts overcome by exhaustion. When he opened his eyes it was inky dark. The generators had probably given up, he thought, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The iridium dial on his wrist displayed near dawn. The wind still howled outside but the slap of rain against the windows seemed to have lessened. He became aware of a soft weight on his hip as he shifted. He knew who it was. His hand reached out to touch her curly head. Giana was on the floor with her head resting on him.

  “Giana?”

  His soft call broke her slumber. She raised her head with a start as though caught out in a lie.

  “It was so dark that I couldn’t sleep. I thought I heard a rat scurrying near the bathroom doorway.”

  He touched her cheek before she could shift away, awkwardness in every line of her form. How could he have forgotten how young she was?

  “Come here.”

  “Max...”

  He caught her hand before she could rise, and pulled her close gently. His other hand moved to her nape and brought her head down to him face to face. His mouth touched hers in a solemn kiss that melted her resistance.

  “I won’t touch you. You can lie here with me, although the bed would have been far more comfortable for both of us. But neither of us wants to risk that, do we?”

  “No...” she whispered huskily.

  He shifted and helped her straighten out beside him. They lay spooned together, her body curled into the cradle of his muscles and sinew, utterly safe. She trembled when he drew her into his arms from behind, his hands locking her in, splayed on her stomach beneath the curve of her breasts. He tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder, his chin set on top of her curls and his powerful leg wrapped around hers.

  “You decimated two nasty men without batting an eyelid and now you are afraid of a rat?”

  Max’s gruff voice rumbled in her ear and she gave out a breathy laugh. Silence prevailed again within seconds. It felt divine to be with him. This would be their last night together!

  She was devastated by the feeling of loss. She wanted to weep her sorrow. He didn’t touch her, just as he had promised. It was soothing and a sweet torment at the same time. Like a secure shield against all things hurtful and yet a protective grip so tight that it bruised. She would remember this moment of oneness and safety, just as much as she would, his intense lovemaking.

  “Sing a song for me, Giana.”

  It was an unexpected request.

  “I stopped singing since I left the band. I only sing for Toby these days.”

  “Then sing for me what you sing for Toby.”

  Max heard the hitch in her breathing as though mulling a melody. The first notes were tentative and husky. It turned fluty as it washed over him in waves of love and hope. The words Thale lo drenched his weary heart like dew on parched ground. It was the song of innocence. A quiet, lullaby in Tamil that Giana had sung many times to Toby and yet its significance seemed to become magnified as she sang it for the man she loved. She sang into the silky crevices of the darkness that enveloped them in timelessness. There was only her sweet voice and his steady breathing in her ear for long suspended moments.

  She felt his hand touch the curve of her womb, over the silky dress, splayed protectively. As the lullaby diminished, the melody sliding into silence, his body eased against her, his muscles melding with hers even without the reality of physical merging.

  Max felt his chest swell with a surge of mixed emotions as the lullaby played in his mind even after the notes had petered away. It was a poignant moment of acceptance between them.

  “If I could catch this moment I would pour it in a vial and keep it forever,” spoke Max huskily.

  “Like an everlasting scent...” she agreed. She would open it every day and savour the elusive scent and remember what she could never have.

  “I love the way you smell,” he said, pressing his mouth to the velvet skin beneath her ear. “Like something out of a mysterious bottle that was kept at the back of a magician’s shelf. You know that it would heal all your aches and pains and yet you are afraid to open it and experience its miracle.”

  Her throat ached with suffocating tears. All her life she had wanted someone to consider her special enough to love her. Not the unlovable person who had made a mess of her life. Max had given her a new definition. She bit her lips to prevent herself from crying out.

  “Good, that I am not a fisherwoman!” she murmured through a choked voice.

  They laughed together at the ridiculous joke. The darkness seemed to burn bright with the desire they could not express.

  They lay in contemplative quietude, in acknowledgement of the complete peace they had found with each other. It was enough, thought Max, exhaling a tight breath, his heart aching. Enough for the time being. Even though his mind tumbled into the sweetness of this embrace in comparison with the blazing passion they had shared a few hours ago. It will have to suffice, he decided firmly, dropping a tender kiss on her ear.

  Until he could sort the chaos in his mind and think of a way to break through the deadlock...

  Eight

  The hurricane passed, leaving behind a trail of destruction. When Max woke up, Giana was in the bathroom. She did not seem to want a conversation when she came out, becoming quickly engaged in her efforts to call home to check on Toby. Max didn’t insist on a conversation. She seemed worried, saying that Toby was becoming fretful, not having found her at home in the
morning. He heard her talk to her son, soothing him with the promise to return soon.

  They were quiet once more as they prepared to leave after breakfast. The rain had turned to drizzle and the roads were clogged with rubbish, floating in puddles of water. Max walked down to where he had left his vehicle in the middle of the road. Some cars had been removed and some were battered beyond recognition. Fortunately, nothing much had happened to Max’s SUV except shattered headlights and a smattering of dents were tree branches had crashed on top of the hood. He drove it back to the hotel to pick up Giana.

  Once more, no words were shared between them. Giana slept most of the way and he didn’t insist on talking. It was afternoon by the time they entered Pondicherry. Finally, when they reached his house, Max parked his SUV and Giana gathered her things.

  “Goodbye, Max. Thank you so...”

  He leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the lips, stealing the words. He deepened the kiss with a hand on her nape. When Giana surfaced, Max held her close with his forehead against hers.

  “No goodbyes. I am right here next door. I will see you soon.”

  Mutely, she stared at him in confusion and sadness. There won’t be any more meetings with Max, she knew. She had decided that firmly. They parted ways at Max’s gates as Giana hurried to her house, her heart aching to see Toby, her eyes blurred with the hot, scalding tears of being torn from the man she loved.

  *

  “The Stanford Research on green wood is still under scrutiny, although the results have been very encouraging. It shows great promise when hemp fibres and biodegradable plastic...”

  Max stood in his plush office overlooking the bay, hearing the drone of his junior architect Krishnan, speak elaborately on the virtues of green wood. His mind and heart were miles away in a small hotel room in Kalpakkam, the centre of a hurricane, his thoughts hinged on Giana. He couldn’t forget her, the way it had felt to hold her, the way she had responded to him. His hands clenched on the desk as he dismissed Krishnan for the day. There was no peace at work anymore. He wanted to tell her how he felt. Was it too soon? Would she understand? Did he deserve her?

  But Max never got to see her.

  December tripped along quickly with the advent of intermittent rains. He went to the church on Sunday in the hope of having a glimpse of Giana preparing for the Christmas fest but she wasn’t there. He met Annabel who informed him that Toby was down with fever so Giana had taken him to the clinic. He didn’t call her.

  His head churned with chaos. He was yet to accept the fact that he adored Giana. But it was a complicated emotion. Having found something so precious, he wanted to savour it. He thought about her all the time.

  He thought of Eva too, especially in the tormenting dark of the nights. Little bits of memories resurfaced. Conversations long ago when they had not been strangers living under the same roof, Eva’s constant need for approval, her exuberance and sulks, her independent spirit, tempestuous reactions and firm choices. Giana had been right. He had loved his wife in his own way or it would not have hurt so deeply. It was painful to remember and hard to let go.

  And he dreamed of Giana. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her gentle eyes. Her words of comfort flowed within him like a healing, rejuvenating elixir. The image of her lying beneath him giving herself to him generously was branded on his memory. He was being split in pieces over her.

  He missed Toby. Sometimes, he heard him giggle on the other side of the wall. The sounds of a child’s joy broke his heart with the weight of memories. Max was sure Giana was there with Toby. But he refused to go and meet her when he knew that she was avoiding him. His chaotic thoughts hung in painful limbo, his heart, and body aching with growing desperation each passing day.

  The second Sunday after the hurricane, the church premises were still being cleaned of the debris from the uprooted trees and broken boundary wall, and flotsam left behind by the rain. The last service was over and Max waited in the hope of finding Giana. She had said that they couldn’t meet alone. So he hoped to see her in a crowd. But she wasn’t among the crowd of faithful. As the people walked away he waited until the last parishioner had left the pews. The choir had packed their instruments and filed out talking in hushed tones. He had seen Fr Da’Cunha hurrying out with the assistant priest. The vaulted ceiling echoed with birdsong. He sat waiting. He refused to believe that she would avoid him. She never came. It hurt him.

  When he looked up at the huge ornate crucifix above the floral decoration at the altar, he felt peace steal over him. It had been months since he had prayed. His prayers had dried up since Eva and Joey had died. His questions about why it happened were still unanswered. Was he being punished for neglecting them? He had no answers. God had been merciful to him. He had been given precious blessings many times in his life. So why had he never asked for forgiveness and expressed his gratitude? His heart seemed to ache all the time. He slid to the floor and knelt with his head bowed. The tears that fell were cleansing. They washed away the anger and desolation.

  What was given had been taken away. He was grateful for the limited time he had been given with his son. It had been a blessing to witness his birth and to hold his little one in his arms at that first moment of his life. He had become a father. And he would always remain a father even though his son had gone. It was not in him to question the mysterious ways that God worked.

  And just like that Max had his answer to the most important question. Giana needed him. Just as much as he needed her. He probably needed her more than she ever would. She had made him whole. Filled the gaping wounds with her compassion. He was being provided with that infinite love through her.

  What Giana aroused in him was so unique and precious that he wanted it all for himself. He wanted her forever. To be a part of his life. He wanted to give her the protection that she needed. He wanted her love, trust, compassion, her body, and their children. A future...Everything. And he wanted Toby to be his son. They would be a family.

  Life must find its course to move on.

  But there were things that he must look into. Unfinished business. His parents were waiting for him. They were as devastated as he had been by the loss.

  He couldn’t run anymore. He didn’t want to run. It was time to mend fences.

  He rose, scrubbing his jaw where the tears were streaked and dried. It had been cathartic. He stepped out in the pale sunshine, heart lighter than a feather. Outside, the morning shower had settled the dust. The last of the cars were driving away. The gardens were buzzing with bees and dragonflies over the huge clusters of petunias, roses and dahlias. Life...thriving and bustling with energy.

  He passed the gates of the cemetery in a relaxed stroll. Under the huge oaks and Gulmohars were spread out the resting places of the dead, old and new. In the olden days, the Creole graves were marked separately from the other castes. Fortunately, the modern generations had given up such a practice. Death was a great leveller, among the dead as well as the living, thought Max, without cynicism. Death, the only inevitable, consistent reality.

  Among the graves, sat Carol, with flowers in her hands.

  She did not see Max walking towards her through the tree-lined pathway. When she raised her head he stood a few feet from her. Their eyes met. Hers, weary and suspicious. And his, apologetic and empathetic.

  He waited for her to speak but she turned away, placing the flowers on two graves. She touched the one marked Michael Francois and kissed the cold marble headstone. Adjacent to that was another headstone marked James Francois. Max didn’t move as Carol stood up wearily and began to walk away.

  “May I drop you home, Carol?”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Martineau. I brought the van.”

  She began to walk towards the gate. Max fell in step beside her. He held the gate open for her to which she nodded silently.

  As they approached the van, Max said something that had been troubling him for a while.

  “I am sorry about your son and your husband. Giana
told me about them.”

  Carol kept walking, avoiding his gaze.

  Max ventured again, “It was not her fault even though she blames herself. She was young and she is already paying a heavy price for something that she didn’t do.”

  Carol stopped and stared at him. She looked worn out. Max felt compassion flow through him. For the first time he wasn’t angry with her.

  Carol dithered, uncertain and resentful. “Mr. Martineau, do you know what it is to lose a child? To watch your child grow into a healthy adult. And then suddenly, to find him gone...Just like that. I lost the man who had promised to live with me until our hair turned grey. My husband went away before his time. And my son was taken away too young.” Her voice wobbled and died away as she stared at the far end of the courtyard where the gardener was planting seeds for the winter.

  Max cleared his throat as though it was being tightened in barbed wires. “No, Carol, I wouldn’t know anything about losing a grown up son. But I do know how it feels to lose a baby. And a beautiful wife who had hardly turned a grey hair.”

  Carol looked at him startled as though seeing him for the first time.

  Max found encouragement in her silence. “I do know what it feels like to lose everything I invested in. We are so afraid to make new investments, aren’t we? Always afraid to choose the difficult path. It’s hard for you to forgive Giana. And it has been harder for me to forgive myself. The pain never goes away. I understand that. I accept it too.”

  “What are you saying Mr. Martineau?”

  “Giana loves you very much and longs for your approval. She can fight the world but she cannot fight your mistrust and resentment. I hope that you have the grace to see that it is hurting her.” He paused and stepped back. Maybe he had said too much. “I am sorry...Have a Good day.”

  Leaving Carol gaping after him, Max turned on his heel and walked towards the parking lot where his newly serviced SUV, stood gleaming. In minutes he drove through the gates purposefully. He was planning to meet Giana.