“I don’t know what past sins I have committed to bring such injustice upon you, Naina,” her mother whispered. “My whole life I have tried to keep you, my children, from harm. I tried so hard, Naina. I tried so hard, but failed,” she spoke softly, her heart drowning in defeat.
Naina walked over to her mother who stood by the window, solemnly staring upwards to the night sky and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You have never failed us Mummy, not even in the toughest moments. Don’t lose faith, we will be okay,” Naina consoled, trying her best to use the wisdom she had incurred over the past twenty years of her life.
“How can you be so sure, my child?” her mother questioned, unable to meet her daughter’s eyes. “That wretched boy and his mother; what lies they have spread. How will we ever . . . ?”
“Look,” Naina interrupted, pointing to the shining stars before them, “Papa’s up there, making sure we’re safe. He always has, I’m sure of it Mummy.”
“Then I suppose I must believe you, Nunu. I must try and see the good that your Papa always knew you would,” said the widow, with a slight tremble in her voice, touched by her daughter’s strength.
Her mother who had once been a tough bull, hard as nails, with all her might tried hard to conceal any visible anguish from her daughter. She placed her hand over Naina’s and shut her eyes. By the light of the full moon, Naina could see the trace of a single tear trickle down her mother’s cheek. Naina shot back a strong look of surety towards her mother. Words were needless as her eyes clearly conveyed, “We will be okay Mummy. We will be okay.”
***
Dear Diary:
The morning sun filtered through the haze, casting a soft glow in my room where I checked myself in the mirror. I was dressed in my silky pink salwar kameez, a former gift from Memsaab, almost two years ago, on Asha’s wedding. It was an important day, the day of Papa’s death anniversary, and I was ready to depart for the temple, even before Mummy. Shaan, on the other hand, was a different matter. I could hear Mummy shooing him into the bathroom insisting that he bathe, despite his usual lazy boy objections. Papa wouldn’t care how I smell! I could hear him rant, just as the unmistakable sound of my mother’s smack to his backside ended further argument. Didn’t matter how old Shaan was, he would always be Mummy’s little boy. We will always be her children. I’m happy that Mummy is as fierce and determined as ever. She even smiles more often. The thought brought a smile to my face. It was still early, and so I continued to adorn the stainless-steel plate of offerings with marigolds and jasmine.
Then the unexpected happened. The doorbell sounded from the ground floor and I could hear Mummy’s flip flops headed towards the front room window to see who it could be. No one was expected. It was Sunday and the factory below was closed. From the back room, I asked Mummy who it was. Mummy didn’t respond and my curiosity peaked by the sound of her hurried steps traveling down the concrete stairs. I followed her to the third-floor landing and crouched to my knees to get a clear view down to the front entry on the first floor.
From that point, my life would change. Without uttering a single word, Mummy quickly unlocked the iron padlock and slid open the metal door restraints. As she swung the door open, a tall dark shadow fell over her. Just as I could make out the figure of a youngish looking man dressed in a white traditional kurta, Mummy had already embraced him. Her arms were quivering, causing the hat that the man wore on his head to topple. He made no effort to retrieve it from the ground. His attire made it obvious. He had come to be with us to remember Papa. His head nestled itself in the crook of my mother’s neck. They remained twined for some seconds, the sharp brilliance of the sun behind the young man creating a haloed effect around his head, illuminating strands of silver in his hair. I had remained crouched on the landing of the third floor for a few moments, unable to move. As he stepped past the threshold that morning, once released from Mummy’s hug, his eyes met mine, lighting a clear path to my soul, highlighting a destiny which I would shape with a clear vision that had been unshadowed. That vision and inner strength, I realized, had always been with me.
I am certain that when Papa went to live his next life, he left me an angel. It may be that some lives are in jeopardy from the outset, and though pain can never be erased, it need not be constant, unlike the dazzle of a million stars in the blackened sky that will always bring me comfort and clear sight.
Naina
High Trade
By Shirley Merith
The beautiful journey of today can only begin when we learn to let go of yesterday.
-Steve Maraboli
High Trade
Camille read the name tags of each flight attendant as she boarded Flight 275 from San Francisco heading to London England. She focused on a young bouncy brunette named Candace, with the toothy smile, who looked like she couldn’t save anyone in an emergency. How old is she anyway? Eighteen?
Things were not off to a good start. It was bad enough that the flight left late at night, but to be locked into a big metal flying machine for over ten hours would be pure punishment. Walking slowly down the aisles, her eyes skirted from side to side searching for seat 26C. Once found, she struggled to shove her carry-on bag into the overhead compartment.
“Let me help you with that.” The offer came from a smooth sounding, insistent male voice. Camille turned to the side to see where the voice came from.
A flash of perfectly aligned white teeth within a wide smile greeted her. “Oh sure, that would be great thanks,” she replied while easing into her allocated seat.
She fixed her gaze upon his snug fitting white polo shirt and relaxed fit blue jeans. She watched him secure her bag in the overhead compartment, then immediately put his in afterward.
He slid into the seat across the aisle from her. She flashed a thankful smile as he gave her a nod. Not bad looking she thought, though she was hardly in the mood for socializing with anybody. It had been a long day and she was starting to feel a hint of pressure behind her left eye, often indicating the onset of a headache.
Within what seemed to be minutes of her clearing her thoughts and tightening her seat belt, the cabin door slammed shut and her nerves started to tingle. She was grateful to a friend who had told her about taking Gravol before the flight to help with her stomach. She rummaged through her purse to make sure that the pink and white package was still there to be used later on
if needed. She grazed her index finger over the package for support.
Camille firmly gripped both armrests giving no consideration to the passenger in the seat beside her. She winced at every bump and thump as the plane rumbled faster and faster down the runway. When the plane started its ascent, she leaned back onto the headrest and closed her eyes. With every jolt, she clenched her teeth and held on tighter. As the aircraft levelled off and the seat belt sign was disengaged, she quietly reached into her purse, slipped the cellophane wrapper off a mint candy and popped it into her mouth. For some strange reason mints always seem to help with her light headaches.
After an hour of flipping through the airline magazine, one that she had hoped would take her mind off the constant drone of the engines, she looked ahead and noticed a line starting to form for the bathroom. She decided to go before the line grew longer.
Quickly getting out of her seat, she collided with the man who had helped with her bag. He was moving to let the passenger in the middle seat out. Stunned for a moment, she couldn’t even offer an apology as her throat became instantly dry. His smile clearly indicated that an apology was not needed. He gestured for the ladies to go first then followed them down the aisle.
Camille wondered if it was his breath she could feel on the back of her neck as they stood in line. Somehow, she had switched places with the lady who was beside him, placing her directly in front of the 'carry-on man'. He seemed nice enough helping her with the bag and smiling at her. Is he going to talk to me? she thought. She wasn’t sure but she had no intentions of speaking first.
“
Sometimes these line-ups can be so annoying,” he said.
“Yeah,” she replied turning slightly to look at him in full. He stood about six feet tall, his perfectly groomed black hair was cut short enough to sit just above the ears. His angular brows were a bit on the thick side, but his warm chestnut brown eyes made up for it. As she straightened back to her initial pose, she felt her shoulders start to stiffen. Hopefully, he would notice her discomfort and stop talking to her.
“You would think that these were the only set of bathrooms on the plane,” he said. “It seems as though everyone is coming here.”
“You could say that,” she responded while inching forward.
“I guess I'll have to watch how many drinks I have on this flight so I don't have to keep using the bathroom.”
She smiled at his comment but did not respond. She felt it would lead to further conversations, which she didn't want to have.
As she noticed his lips starting to move again, the bathroom door opened and it was her turn to go in. She grabbed the door and shut it tightly behind her. She stood in the bathroom with her back to the door and took a deep breath. There was something vaguely familiar about his face, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Had she seen it somewhere before?
Looking in the mirror, she checked out her makeup and mid-length hair. She ran her fingers through her sable brown bob trying to fluff up what was already starting to go flat. Then she rubbed her cheeks in a circular motion before adding plum berry lipstick to her full lips.
Her initial decision to not talk to any men on this trip other than for work purposes, was due to an email she recently received from her ex Josh, who insisted they meet to talk about the possibility of getting back together. She was tired of his broken promises and had made a previous commitment to swear off men and focus only on herself for the next year. But boy was this handsome stranger making it difficult.
Taking a bit longer than she expected, Camille double-checked to make sure that she looked decent before exiting.
Returning to her seat she noticed him watching her as she moved down the aisle. She felt his eyes flirt with her body as she settled back into her seat.
Fidgeting around, she finally found the buckle and snapped the seat belt together.
The pilot's voice came on the overhead speakers announcing that they were approaching a small area of turbulence.
‘Carry-on man’ leaned over and said, “I guess we got to the bathrooms just in time.”
Camille's stomach was stirring but she managed a smile. This was the one portion of any flight that she hated the most. It didn't seem like the Gravol had had any effect at all. She tried her best not to look too frightened.
She dreaded the thought of having to sit on this aircraft for another eight and a half hours. She leaned her head back closed her eyes and said a prayer. When the turbulence settled down the pilot announced that he expected a smooth flight from then on.
“I couldn’t help but notice your tight grip on the armrest. You look like you could use a drink to make the flight a little easier.”
“That obvious eh? I’m not a great flyer, but then I don’t know too many people who are,” she said feeling a bit ashamed.
“Me neither, but as much as I can, I try to put it out of my mind. Sometimes a drink helps me get used to it,” he said. “The flight attendant is on her way down the aisle. Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank-you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”
“Mmm… fairly sure.”
“Well if you change your mind let me know.”
She nodded, then felt down on the floor for her purse.
She pulled out her iPod and plugged in the earpiece. She was getting ready to put the buds in her ear when the plane had another unexpected little bump.
The buds dropped out of her hands. Her eyes closed quickly for a few seconds.
As the plane settled down again, she reopened her eyes and calmly picked up the ear buds.
The flight attendant arrived at their section. Camille decided she did want a drink but a non-alcoholic one and ordered a ginger ale.
She eyed him as he ordered his drink and pulled out his black American Express card to pay. It appears he has money, she thought. But then again money doesn’t mean a thing these days. Look at Josh, when she first met him he had money. Then he made a fool of himself and squandered it all away.
“Enjoy,” he said as he raised his glass, then he positioned his earphones for the start of the movie.
Sipping carefully, Camille made sure that she didn’t spill anything on her button-down coral cashmere sweater, which she loved and was wearing for the first time. Plane rides can get cold at times so she felt that this sweater would help to take the chill off.
She tapped the screen located at the back of the seat in front of her to make a movie selection. Once she finished scrolling through the choices, she settled on the sequel to a movie she had already seen before. The flight attendant came around again with the meal. Looking at it didn't help her stomach much, but she decided to pick at it anyway since eating something was better than nothing at all.
Watching the movie was uneventful. Who would have known that two and a half hours would go by so fast? Checking her watch, there was still over five and a half hours left in the flight. She removed her earpiece.
She stared forward looking at the tops of people’s heads, recanting a silly game she played with herself whenever she flew. She tried to guess the age of people based on their hairstyle. She knew full well that she would never get to find out if she was right or wrong, but it passed some of the time away.
“Since you don't like flying, I gather that you don't travel often?” His comments interrupted her game.
“It depends on what you call often,” she replied.
“May I ask what business you are in? Modeling or an actress perhaps?”
Camille felt her cheeks becoming warm.
“No.”
“How about a designer or news anchor?”
This guy's too much, she thought. “No again. Actually, I’m in advertising.”
“Oh, how interesting. I’m a bit familiar with that industry.”
“You don’t say. I don’t often run into people who know much about it.”
“Very true. Me neither. I wonder if you work for an agency that I would know.”
“You might know our slogan ‘We Take Care Of You Everywhere.’ It’s plastered all over the place,” she replied.
“Oh yeah. You could say I’m aware of it.”
She noticed a slight edge in his voice as he leaned closer, but ignored it as the aroma of his lightly scented cologne tingled her nostrils.
“Good. That means our agency advertising works.”
“You’re probably not going to believe this, but I might know someone who works for that same agency. Are you referring to Inco Advertising?”
“Yes,” she exclaimed. “What an uncanny coincidence. We're not a very big agency. You wouldn’t happen to know the owners, Ellis Lange or Edward Pinchon would you?”
His forehead wrinkled and his brows pointed downward. “I’m being rude. Let me introduce myself. My name is Kyle and may I ask yours?”
Noticing that he hadn't answered her question she said “Camille. Camille Pryce.”
“Nice to meet you, Camille.”
“Likewise. So, what leads you to know so much about the advertising business?” she asked.
“Well, you could say that I've dabbled in it for a few years myself.”
“How interesting. Then we have something in common. What aspect of the business are you in?” She noticed that she was becoming more and more talkative.
Before he could speak again, the intercom system opened up.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are going to be coming through with some light snacks. If you are interested, please leave your tray tables down.”
“I guess I can continue now,” he said.
While he was talking, she could hardly focus as a wave of drowsiness overtook her. All she could remember saying was, “You're a busy man.” She then leaned her chair back, threw the blanket over her shoulders and wrapped up. Within minutes she nodded off.
When she awoke, she looked to the side and noticed Kyle was not in his seat.
Her hand immediately went up to her hair to smooth it down. I must have the worst case of bedhead, she imagined as she glanced at her watch. She must have been asleep for several hours. The last time she looked it was 2:30 am. Now it was almost 6:00 am.
“You’re awake,” Kyle said slipping back into his seat.
“Yeah. I was really tired,” she responded using her hand again to sleek down her hair.
“It was difficult for me to sleep, though I did nod off for about an hour,” he said.
“It must have been the Gravol. It finally kicked in,” she replied. The first one didn't do anything, but it looks like the second one I took near the end of the movie really knocked me out.”
“I could see that,” he answered while buckling back his seatbelt. “So where are you headed when we land?”
“I’m going straight to my hotel to get some more rest. Then I have a meeting tomorrow with clients to cement an account I’ve been working on for weeks.”
“Oh, so that’s the purpose of this trip, to gather up more business for your firm?”
“Yes, and also to beat our competitors to the punch. We know they're close on our heels after this account.”
“Well, you look like a savvy woman on a mission. I highly doubt that you will have any trouble landing this account.”
“Thank you. I think I’ll do all right,” she said with a slight smirk. “So how about you? Are you going to London for business or pleasure?”
“Neither, actually. London is my home.”
“Oh, I didn't notice a British accent.”
“Not at all. I moved there a few years ago.”
Walking Through and Other Stories Page 5