by Ada Winder
“Yes, to India. Doesn’t it sound exciting? You know you’d love to come with me; you’re bored here.”
“But Miriam, what about the logistics of it? Who would look after the children? How long would we be gone?” Would George approve?
This last silent question was Alice’s main concern. She knew they could find someone to watch the children easily enough as long as they weren’t gone for an unreasonable amount of time. Perhaps a week? Besides, the teenagers were perfectly capable of taking care of their own needs. But would George protest and forbid her? Make it clear that her place was to stay at home? Would he manipulate her by saying he needed her there, available to him? That he needed her presence, her company, her smile?
“Don’t worry about my brother,” Miriam said like a mind-reader. “I will convince him if he needs convincing—which he won’t.”
***
Alice had never left the United States before; in fact, she had never flown anywhere. Anytime she traveled it was by car which was why she didn’t bother to apply to colleges too far away from her home state. Not that she was actually terrified of flying, she just preferred not to.
She was willing to make an exception in this case because it was an opportunity she could not pass up, one that should not be delayed by days and days on a ship. Plus, she did not want to push it—George had no problem with her going on a trip for a week, but he certainly wouldn’t have allowed two weeks or more, most of which would be travel time. He would probably think she’d get ideas about other men while on a cruise ship, despite the fact that his sister would be accompanying her.
Alice had actually been quite surprised that it had been so easy to convince him to let her go; in fact it appeared as if he liked the idea of them being so far away from each other for that period of time. There almost seemed to be an eager gleam in his eye as he granted the request, a pleasure he was trying to hide. Alice wondered if he felt as she did—suffocating in their agreement and promise to each other—and how that could be when he was the one holding on to her with an octopus-like grip. In any case, she packed her bags quickly and hoped Miriam had made immediate plans because she wanted to leave before he could change his mind.
Alice didn’t think about the flight she’d have to take until she was seated and the airplane was about to take off. Even then, with Miriam seated next to her droning on about what to expect, she did not become fully aware until the plane lifted into the air. She was aware of nothing but the sensation until the airplane stopped tilting upward and leveled out, traveling parallel to the ground. It was then that she became aware that she had gripped both armrests so hard that dents were left behind in her skin. She was sure she had crushed one of Miriam’s fingers in the process—Miriam who had not said a word, had not let out a single squeak of pain but who was now, as she had been the whole time Alice realized, watching her with great interest, her blue eyes unreadable but focused. Alice worked on relaxing her body, attempting a futile yawn per Miriam’s suggestion to help her clogged-feeling ears.
Miriam turned away and changed the subject from the stages of an airplane flight. Alice tried to focus on her words to divert attention from the fact that she was encapsulated in the sky and found herself being pulled in by what Miriam was saying.
Alice had heard of India of course; she knew of shamans and blue gods and serpent tamers. She knew about the brown-skinned, black-haired women with colorful exotic clothing and dots on their foreheads. She knew about the starving children, the homeless urchins. About elephants in the wild, tigers waiting to pounce on unsuspecting humans. She’d heard of this land of colors and danger and beauty.
What she didn’t know, she realized, was why Miriam wanted to go there.
“Because I haven’t been there yet,” Miriam responded simply when asked, shrugging away the question. Alice also wondered why Miriam decided to invite her along this time.
“Because I knew you’d be able to come this time,” Miriam said, leaving Alice as uninformed as she had begun, springing only more questions by her response.
Alice slept through most of the flight once she got bored with it; she couldn’t sustain interest over that many hours. She was grateful it was not a direct flight and that they had the chance to make two stops and stretch their legs.
When they finally landed in India, Alice’s excitement threatened to overwhelm her. That she was thousands upon thousands of miles away from George, had taken her first flight, had left her native country and was now in India all sunk in at once. That she was about to begin an adventure made her feel like her hair would stand on end with all the excessive energy running through her and a lack of sufficient outlets. It had been so long since she had experienced feelings like this, she barely knew how to handle them. She suddenly found herself bubbling over with things to say, her movements jerky. Her excitement thrust her forward quickly, and although she was constantly on the verge of losing Miriam with her pace as she almost hopped and skipped toward baggage claim, at times Alice felt like she was floating on air by way of some hidden charmer.
The assault by the new stimuli squared as they hit open air. Alice felt like a blind person suddenly able to see, her brain overloaded with the new sights, smells and sounds.
As they traveled to their Kerala home-stay family, Miriam decided to share more about what she knew of India. Alice learned from Miriam’s research about the Jallianwalla Bagh massacre, where British troops opened fire on hundreds of unsuspecting locals, the incident which supposedly inspired Mahatma Gandhi to action. Miriam also told her about sati where widowed women would jump to their deaths—or be pushed—into their husband’s funeral pyre.
Miriam surprised Alice by her research on the subcontinent before traveling there; it seemed more Miriam’s speed to just jump into things, to fly by the seat of her pants, to leap without looking. Miriam not only learned some historical and cultural items here and there, she had figured out where they would concentrate their touring, how they would travel, where they would stay.
Miriam had thought it best to stay with and get taken around by a local instead of staying in a hotel and missing real flavors by doing the usual tourist stops. She wanted to see how a real Indian family in Kerala lived, what a real home smelled and sounded like. It was not difficult to agree on their accommodations; both saw the value in living as a guest with a local family—in this case, a family consisting of a man, his children and his mother.
His name was Siddharth. He granted Alice’s request to call him Sid. His wife had died in childbirth and he had not remarried. He had two children—eight-year-old Anitha and ten-year-old Nikhil.
Alice thought Sid was handsome behind his dark bushy mustache. He had soft, brown long-lashed eyes, cinnamon skin, and a gentle spirit.
His mother, Padma, was a short, stout, salt and pepper-haired woman with features Alice was sure made her a great beauty in her youth. Her skin was the color of raw sienna.
Sid took Alice and Miriam out for touring while his mother stayed behind in the house, looking after the children, doing all the cooking when she wasn’t doing something else for the house or its members.
Sid took them to places Miriam had made note of to see, and places she had no idea she wanted to see. They visited churches, Hindu temples and the Mosque in Kodungallore. They cruised Kerala backwaters, watched Kathalaki dance performances, and observed the activity on tea plantations.
Alice learned a lot not only from Sid, but from other locals who for the most part, spoke English in addition to their regional language. She learned more about the history, about the various states and the many languages spoken. She learned that they weren’t all brown-skinned; some were fair, some were almost literally black. She learned that the forehead dots were only for married women. And she was treated to some fascinating myths and legends. Most of all, Alice learned her original conclusions about India were not only narrow-minded and uninformed, but that some were downright incorrect.
In parts, Kerala was a parad
ise. Palm trees, beaches, the backwaters, mountains, aromatic spices in the air and brilliant colors all around—a visual feast of emerald greens of plant life, bright oranges of fabrics draped around brown bodies, and the warm colors of sunset. Other parts of it turned her stomach—garbage strewn about, the smell of piss and sweat.
Still, she realized there was so much more to see, and although they had planned to be there almost a week, there was not enough time to see it all. She now understood why Miriam had planned for them to explore just this one state of India this time around.
Then Miriam surprised her on their fourth day, two days before their departure, announcing she’d be taking off for the whole of the following day, leaving early in the morning. She wanted to travel upland more, a little farther north to see a couple of very specific things while she was there. She’d be gone the entire day, either returning late at night or by midday of the next day—their sixth—at the latest—she didn’t want to be too rude and leave Alice alone too long, even if in very capable hands. Plus their flight would be leaving early the morning after that.
Alice nodded numbly, trying to calm an irrational fear at her words, at the thought of being left alone.
The next day, true to her word, Miriam disappeared.
Alice ate breakfast with her home-stay family then listened to Sid’s plan for the day. Until that point, they had participated in low-effort, laid-back activities—walking around, watching, sitting in a boat. Today, Sid talked about activities requiring further engagement.
“We will see varayadu,” he said. “And maybe you will get to pat one.” So they went to Eravikulam National Park at Munnar and she was able to do as he’d said, despite her fears of being butted by the wild goat.
“We will go on safari,” he had also said that morning, and although Alice had shaken her head at the suggestion which Sid promptly ignored, she found herself eagerly looking forward to it. She would be taking on one strange animal for the day, why not get close to a few others? So into the countryside they went to spot wildlife. When presented with the options, Alice decided on an elephant safari—why not observe from atop an exotic beast?
Alice felt more like an explorer, and her camera couldn’t take enough photos.
Sid was such a gentle, compassionate, knowledgeable guide, she was no longer afraid to do anything. She had the eagerness and excitement of a child—the young girl she’d once been.
Soon, daylight started to fade, and they decided to end the day with a canoe trip.
As they glided across the water, waiting for the sunset, Alice caught Sid looking at her hair.
He seemed embarrassed at being caught.
“Your hair has a very interesting color in this light,” he said. “A little red. It is very pretty.”
Alice thanked him.
After a few moments she asked:
“Sid, I hope you don’t find this inappropriate, but why did you not remarry?”
He took a few seconds before answering.
“My second wife was not very happy to have been paired with me. I liked the pairing, but I did not want her to be unhappy. So I helped her escape to your country.
“And then there was another girl whose parents thought I would be a good husband for her. Everyone ignored that she was horrified by their decision—I think she had already fallen in love with a young boy her age and did not want to marry me at all. She was very, very young—sixteen—and I was already over forty at the time. She didn’t say anything to me, but everyone knew she was unhappy. Still, they thought she would eventually get over it and accept her fate. So they went on with the wedding preparations. The day before the wedding, they found her dead; she had poisoned herself with othalanga maram.”
Alice’s mind tripped over the words.
“What is that?” she asked.
“I will show you. Alice, you must never eat fruit from this tree, even though they look like mangoes. It is a very dangerous tree, responsible for many deaths here. The fruit is poisonous, but the tree is useful; we use it to make hedges.”
He took a deep breath and looked away, toward the falling sun.
“I have not lived in the west, but I suppose I have a western approach to marriage. I want to choose someone, and I want them to choose me. No pressure from the parents, no pressure from me, no pressure from anyone. I would like someone who can be my equal, who I can talk to about things and who will understand.” He shrugged. “Maybe I want too much.”
Sid grinned and Alice grinned with him. Then she felt her own smile fall away as she thought about George.
“I don’t think settling is the best thing either.”
Sid boldly examined her face this time.
“You have very beautiful eyes, Alice—very beautiful. But very sad. I hope you are not sad often; a woman like you should never be sad—you have a very vibrant spirit. Your husband must be very happy with you.”
His eyes were now on her left hand. Her right hand rose to cover her wedding band.
Didn’t he know the pink in her cheeks now wasn’t usually there, nor the spark in her eyes? That all the smiling, the laughing, the enjoying of sights, sounds and smells of life was here only? Didn’t he see that the beautiful woman he was seeing was because of his country, his presentation of it? She had thought this Alice had died a long time ago, but she’d been resurrected temporarily.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him again.
Malayalam is the world’s only palindromic language, Alice wrote in her journal later that night before she went to bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Saturday, July 1st 2006
Bloomington, Illinois
Drew saw a flash of a slender figure in an electric blue, figure-hugging ensemble, a flash of honey-blond hair. He rubbed his eyes, checked his drink. Yes, he was drinking a coke, just as he thought. Could it really be her? Or was he seeing things? Losing it?
When she came into view, no longer a flash but a real, slender, five foot nine, beautifully smiling person, he felt everything in him melt into a puddle, and for a few moments, he couldn’t move his legs. Maybe he was really going crazy—why would she come?
He didn’t want to get his hopes up too high since it would be that much more of a distance to fall, but he looked again—really looked, studying her from head to toe. It was definitely her—her hair, her eyes, her smile. Lacey was talking to his mom, probably expressing her condolences in her unique way no doubt, telling his mother that now she didn’t have to wait on her husband’s lazy ass, had more time to spend on herself. Hell, Lacey was probably congratulating her. Your husband’s dead? You’re so lucky! If mine were this divorce would be so much easier to finalize. I mean, not that I don’t like your son or anything.
Drew shook his head briefly, successfully depressing himself with his own thoughts.
He could not keep his eyes averted for long however, for his eyes were thirsty for the sight of her; he wanted to drink more of her in. He had not seen her in so long, he wanted to savor every second she was within his sight—her sexy, inappropriate skintight blue dress, her perfectly manicured, feminine, slender fingers, her beautiful and probably sweet-smelling hair—who knew when he’d get to see her again?
He saw her looking around and was afraid to assume it was him she was looking for but it was; she found him easily, locking her big, brown Bambi eyes with his.
She headed over.
Drew tried to think of the first thing he wanted to say to her, tried to puff himself up with indignation for his son’s sake but when she entered his space, everything flew out of his head along with the air out of his chest.
He could not help smiling back at her when she smiled at him, couldn’t stop himself from hugging her back when she wrapped herself around him.
“Drew! How nice to see you!”
He inhaled the scent of her hair—yup, sweet-smelling as usual. He almost couldn’t stop himself from keeping her locked in his arms.
He let her go reluct
antly and tried not to look into her eyes.
“Lacey, what a surprise! What brings you here?”
He looked around the room but his eyes kept coming back to her.
“Well, it’s my former father-in-law’s funeral silly! I knew the guy right? And I know you guys right? You, your sister, your mom; you’re like family—how could I not come?”
Drew scoffed.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to tear yourself away from your own busy life; I know how important fulfilling your needs and your needs alone, is to you.”
She looked at him strangely.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
But damn her, she did not look offended or insulted. She was almost dismissive in the way she asked it, like she was just a bit curious and didn’t really care for the answer. He was finally infuriated, a surge of anger coursing through him, though it traveled simultaneously with adoration. He couldn’t ignore that he felt like he loved her more than ever, but he could see Jack’s dark eyes looking at him sorrowfully in his mind’s eye.
“Damn you, Lacey—do you know what our son’s been going through?”
Lacey’s face lit up. She looked around and said:
“My Jack! Where is he? Where is my little pumpkin?”
“He’s barely yours,” Drew muttered, but before he could continue, she lightly slapped him on the chest, grinning.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, still looking around the room. “Well, where is he?”
While Drew had been impressed she’d thought about them and came to support them for his father’s funeral, he was outraged that her primary reason had not been to see her son, that Jack seemed to be an afterthought. But at the same time, he knew this would make Jack’s day, even though it could possibly make things worse in the long run—getting Jack’s hopes up even more. She certainly did not appear to have plans to stay around, but he could never deny his son the pleasure of seeing his mother.