by Divya Sood
“So you do love me.”
“Yes but I’m tired, Jess. I’m tired of being fucked over.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said, “except that I’ll be here for you and only you. That I want to be here with you. I can’t give you reasons or logic. I don’t know. I don’t even know what love is.”
“You don’t know what love is but ten minutes ago you professed loving two women? See I can’t deal with the bullshit. I don’t even know what the bullshit is anymore. Do you even know what the bullshit is anymore?”
I sat there quietly for quite some time. Whenever I looked at her she looked away.
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” I said.
“You too,” she said wearily.
As I got up, I tried to kiss her but she pulled away.
“I’ll make you breakfast in bed tomorrow,” I said
“My queen of evasion,” she said.
“How so?”
“You can evade any conversation at any time. It is so fucking annoying. I asked you a question and we’re ending the night with breakfast in bed.”
I remembered abruptly the breakfast Vanessa and I had shared sitting naked in our hotel room. I could taste the coffee, feel her knee touching mine slightly as we sat cross-legged in crumpled sheets.
“Jess?”
“What was your question?” I asked as I was shaken from memory.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, of course I am. I’m just tired. What was your question? I want to know.”
“Do you even know the bullshit from the truth anymore? Do you know what you even want anymore?”
“No,” I said softly, “I have no idea what I want or what love is. Is that what you want to hear?”
“If it’s the truth, yes that’s what I wanted to hear.”
“Okay then there you fucking have it.”
The silence that was between us now was stale like cigar smoke trapped in the fibers of a winter coat.
“Close your eyes, baby,” I finally said.
“What the fuck for?”
“So you can go to sleep. Please go to sleep. You need your rest.”
“As if you give a shit what I need, Jess. As if you ever have.”
With that Anjali closed her eyes and settled into a deep sleep. I got up and walked to the bedroom and unzipped my bag. I hadn’t even opened it since I had returned. I took from it only my paisley journal. I went back to the living room. I sat across from her and, for the first time since I had come back, I opened our journal. I say ours because it had ceased to become Vanessa’s when she handed it to me and it had never been just mine. Within those pages I found traces of why I fell in love. I also found why I was so afraid to love.
I sat back and flipped to a random page.
I was the best story that ever eluded you.
Those were Vanessa’s words. She had written just that. She had written the truth. I flipped again.
If ever I write a story, it will be a love story.
Those were my words. I believed them. I didn’t know when or where or how the story would take shape but I knew that it had to be a love story full of heart and truth. I remembered thinking of something Vanessa had said and I knew she had written it somewhere. I flipped past the hybrid make believe Indo-Rican flag, past the two pages stuck together that I didn’t have the patience to open, past the drawing of an unidentified flower, past passages here and there. And then I found her words.
As you sleep and I am with you, I start to miss you.
I wish you would write. Write me a love story.
I read the journal from first page until the pages went blank. When the sun set, I watched the rays dance across Anjali’s skin, an aura of innocence and grace surrounding her body. I looked around the room and started to fear the evening’s immensity. I turned on a light and walked to the kitchen. I selected a pen from the drawer full of pens and pencils and the occasional highlighter. I sat that evening and without knowing it, I wrote Vanessa’s words:
As you sleep and I am with you, I start to miss you.
Chapter Twenty-seven
During Anjali’s recovery, as peaceful as it was, Dr. Abhay Gulati became a constant visitor in our lives. I didn’t like having him there but he either didn’t notice my dislike or he didn’t care. Sometimes he brought someone along, a friend from med school Anjali hadn’t seen in years or a colleague of hers from when she did her residency. I watched them those evenings as if I was not a part of them. Truth is I wasn’t a part of anything when he was there. He soaked all the energy in the room and used it to impress and amuse Anjali. She laughed at his jokes and listened to him drone for hours. I usually spent the time criticizing his outfit in my head or noticing the filth on his shoes. I asked Anjali about him one night as I was helping her get settled into bed.
“What’s up with Abhay? You act like you’re straight around him.”
“Jess, I have to act like I’m straight around him. You know that. I don’t talk to people about my life. Especially colleagues. You know that.”
“You act like you like him.”
“I do like him.”
“I mean like you want him,” I said.
“Jess, you’re fucking crazy.”
“Am I?”
“Being that I’m madly in love with you, yes, I think you are.”
Anjali pulled me by my shirt and kissed me. I kissed her back and something inside me jumped. I had never felt that way kissing Anjali. I started to kiss her neck and she closed her eyes.
“I don’t know how we can do this,” I said.
“We’ll have to go to my room, that’s all.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then find ways to touch me.”
It was a sweet invitation. I slowly moved my hands across her face then her neck then her body. I was careful not to touch her side. I was careful not to lean on her. I didn’t touch her in the most intimate of places. But as I ran my hands constantly over her body, she leaned back and enjoyed me. As I kissed her breasts she moaned. I watched her glow with pleasure and I enjoyed touching her even more. I wished at that moment that I could make love to her. But I was also satisfied just discovering the places to touch that pleased her. She loved it when I traced the edges of her ears with my fingers. She moaned when I kissed her neck. She was neutral about her stomach and thighs. She liked it when I kissed her breasts but only if I sucked her nipples.
“Is Abhay coming tomorrow too?” I asked.
She opened her eyes and stared at me.
“Jess, I really don’t feel like talking about anyone right now.”
“No, I want to know. Because I’ll leave.”
“Relax. I’ll tell you when he’s coming. You can go to Starbucks and work on whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m finally writing,” I said.
“What’s it about?”
“It’s just something I’m working on. Aren’t you sleepy?”
“I’m taking less of the painkillers so I don’t get as sleepy as I used to. But I guess I should go to bed.”
“You should.”
We spent the next three hours caressing, hoping, longing. I think back and that evening with Anjali was the most sensual of my life. Neither of us came and neither of us tried to touch the most intimate of places. But we kissed and touched and talked and laughed the entire time. Anjali told me stories about herself I had never heard. I told her things she knew but loved hearing about my childhood and college days. At that moment, I loved Anjali wholly without exception or doubt or deceit. She was a beautiful woman, Anjali Chopra.
When she grew tired, I sat beside her as she drifted to sleep. I listened to her breathing. Those days, I never slept until Anjali was asleep. When I heard her snore slightly, only then did I get up to go to bed.
I took the journal out that night and read the line I read every night before I slept.
I was the best story that ever eluded you.
Chapter Twenty-eight
One fine day in October, while Anjali and I were playing gin rummy on the couch, there was a knock on the door. We were confused as to who could have come up without the doorman alerting us to visitors. I opened the door cautiously. There in front of me stood Ish and Kat, grinning from ear to ear.
“Happy Diwali!” they shouted in unison as they entered the apartment. I noticed Kat was holding a huge bar of Toblerone.
“How did you guys get in?” Anjali asked.
“Your doorman’s asleep, babe,” Ish said.
We laughed.
I was actually relieved to see Ish although I couldn’t explain why. I believe that perhaps the momentum of our lives changed a bit, that Anjali and I could breathe a bit, talk a bit, let go a bit even if it was with Ish. And not for nothing, it was always nice to see Kat.
“We got you chocolate,” Kat said, “cuz we know Anjali hates mithai.”
“Mithai!” Anjali and I said I unison.
“Are you learning Hindi Kat?” I asked.
Kat was quiet.
“Well, sort of,” she finally offered. “I mean when you’re engaged to an Indian…”
I think I almost fell to the floor. Was she serious? What had happened? What had changed? Apparently I was the only one out of the loop because everyone else laughed a bit and then the room was pleasantly quiet. I had to talk to Kat.
“Um…what do you guys say Kat and I go to Starbucks and get us all some Frappachinos?” I finally said, “I would love one right now.”
“Sounds like an idea,” Kat said.
“Sure,” Anjali said.
Ish smiled and fidgeted with her wallet. She pulled out her Starbucks gold card. Kat took it and kissed her on the forehead softly.
Kat and I left, closing the door behind us. I said nothing until we had exited the building. When we were out in the cool air, I spoke.
“Kat, what the fuck happened?”
Kat turned to me and smiled.
“She did it, Jess. She did it.”
“She did what?”
“She told her parents. She flew to Nairobi and told her parents.”
“And how do you know she did?”
“Because…she’s gonna take me with her.”
I stopped walking and faced Kat. My heart was sinking.
“Kat, you believe that bullshit?”
“It’s not bullshit! What’s bullshit is you, runnin’ off with a lie and tellin’ everyone else how to live their lives or what to believe. Who are you to tell me about bullshit?”
She pushed me aside and kept walking.
I ran after her.
“Kat! Kat!”
She stopped and turned around.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Maybe you are right,” I said.
“I am right.”
“So how did it all happen?”
“I left. Cut my phone off and everything. And then last week she came to me. And she told me she loved me. That she told everyone. That she wants to marry me.”
“And you said yes?”
Kat held out her hand, where a one and a half karat Tiffany’s signature ring sparkled on her finger.
I kept staring at the ring. I thought back to my own ring still sitting on Anjali’s bedside table. I wondered if Ish was finally coming to her senses or if Kat had lost hers. My heart broke for her. What if Ish was lying? But then what if she wasn’t? Kat looked happier, talked more, and had more “conviction” as Vanessa would say. But what would happen if this were all a lie? Would Kat fall like a house of cards? Would she survive?
“Just be happy for me, can’t you?”
Her words jarred me out of my thoughts.
“Congratulations,” I said as I tried not to let my voice convey how disappointed I was that Kat was falling for whatever it was that Ish was up to.
“Thank you.”
As we entered Starbucks, we said nothing. We held no more conversation until we ordered and then only to ask each other to get straws or napkins. And then, armed with four grande Frappachinos, we made our way silently home.
When we arrived back at the apartment, Anjali and Ish stopped talking at our entrance and stared at us. I felt they had been talking about me. I was actually sure that this was the case as Ish was glaring in my direction.
“Hey guys,” she said.
Kat handed out the drinks.
“Jess, can I talk to you in the bedroom for a minute?” Ish asked.
“Sure,” I said although my instinct said, “Fuck you.”
“Lead the way,” she said.
I entered the bedroom and she slammed the door behind us.
“I called you while you were with the tramp,” she said “And you didn’t have the decency to pick up.”
“This is about you?” I asked, “About your damn phone call?”
“No, this is about you and how you left Anjali to die on the street while you were out with some tramp.”
“Don’t call her that.”
Her eyes met mine.
“That’s what you’re worried about? What I call the tramp? Your girlfriend nearly died and that’s what you’re worried about?”
I walked around the room, sipping slightly.
“This is none of your concern.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
She walked to me and pulled my hand to make me face her.
“You don’t get it, do you? She loves you more than life itself. Trust me, I didn’t get it either until I lost Kat. And then I was lucky enough to get her back. Will you be so lucky?”
“So you really told you family? You’re taking her to Nairobi?”
“Tickets are booked.”
“Whatever.”
She sighed.
“Do whatever the fuck you want,” she said. “I’m done.”
She took wide strides to the door.
“If you’re so fucking concerned about Anjali, why haven’t you been here? I haven’t seen you since the day I got back.”
She pivoted to face me. She walked back and stopped so close to me I thought she was going to run into me.
“Why haven’t I been here? Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Because, if you must know, although it’s none of your fucking business, I’m in the process of moving to Philly, buying a practice and maintaining my relationship. But I’ve called her every fucking day, making sure every fucking minute that you weren’t the asshole I know you to be.”
When she said Philly, my heart skipped a beat or two and my mind slipped into thoughts of fresh guavas and limes and lemons. I thought back to Vanessa’s jade green halter-top, her shoulders, and her earthen skin. I remembered her kisses and all of a sudden, I wanted to be alone, to write in our journal the thoughts that were rising within me. I finally said what I thought needed saying.
“Fuck you,” I said.
And then I left.
I returned to the living room and sat and joked and sipped my Frappachino. But within me, there was a storm of thoughts striking like thunder and overwhelming like monsoon rain. Thoughts of Ish and how I wondered where in Philly she would stay. Would it be anywhere near the flags? I remembered “Indo-Rican” fantasies and all I wanted to do was hug a pillow and cry. Or run to Vanessa’s walk-up and lie next to her, coaxing the morning into becoming a day.
But then I watched Anjali laughing, sipping her Frappuccino contentedly, and shif
ting so as to take the pressure off her side and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I was happy watching her and realized for the first time in a long time how utterly delicious she was, how charming, how delicate, how sweet. I was grateful when she glanced at me askance, when she took my hand and pressed it gently to let me know I mattered, when she leaned up and whispered to me, “This is great, Jess, but I’m so turned on right now.” For all these little things I saw the big thing: she was in love with me and right then, I loved her too.
I wondered what would happen if Ish were somehow right. What if Anjali did decide to leave me? Would I run after her or run to Vanessa? Would I be relieved or miserable? But then Anjali would never do something like that. For every transgression on my part, she forgave me or seemed to on her part. We weren’t Ish and Kat. We were Anjali and Jess. Our rules were different. At least that’s what I convinced myself of that night. But as much fun as that night turned out to be, a question lurked inside me that I couldn’t answer for the life of me: What would you do, Jess, if Anjali were to leave? I tried to make the question disappear. It just roared louder. And that was the first time I started fearing a life without Anjali Chopra.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Abhay decided that he would come by every other day, which meant that every other day I spent three hours at Starbucks. I was tempted many times to take the train to Central Park but I refrained. If I did see Vanessa, what would I say to her? Besides, would she really still be in the park selling photos? And she may, by now, have found someone to deal with her situation with Danny. Or she may have found someone who had yet to find out about Danny. Regardless, I was not going to talk to her. I couldn’t.
I wrote a lot those days. Not all of it was for any purpose. Sometimes I just wrote nonsense. But I tried to free myself from all that deterred me. I was once again, and this time proudly, a coffee shop writer. I was inspired by nothing else other than our journal that held words full of fun and love and possibility. I thought back to reading to Vanessa on a bench, her head in my lap, listening to my words. I missed her then. I missed hearing her voice, her stories, and her laughter. I knew that someday I would return to her. I just hoped it was in time for us to start something together.