The Contract

by Zeenat Mahal

  Sainte Chapelle was as beautiful as she had thought it would be, as was the nearby Notre Dame, in all its Gothic glory. Both had gorgeous stained glass windows but the ones at the Chapelle were breath-taking, she thought. The colors of the stained glass reminded her of glass windows in the walled city of Lahore in the older houses. The Ile St-Louis, a small, almost village-like settlement in the heart of Paris, had a wonderful provincial quality to it. Unlike the sleepy, quaint small towns of England, this little town was loaded with another kind of classic allure and Shahira enjoyed its Parisian charm immensely. They had ice cream from Berthillon. Yum.

  She tried to cajole them into visiting at least one museum or art gallery, but the kids adamantly refused, and Hussain capitulated to them laughingly. Later he addressed her, saying under his breath, “Next time we come, I’ll take you to all the places these little monsters haven’t let you see.”

  “Why would they let me see it next time?” she asked dolefully.

  “They won’t be coming next time,” he replied drily.

  Shahira looked at him sharply but he was busy with Shahaan, and again she experienced a sense of foreboding. She had to talk to him about this. Natasha was used to his sporadic love and attention but Shahaan was younger and he was going to take it very hard when Hussain vanished, as was his wont, for long periods of time. That was his way and his life; he just had to understand that he couldn’t destroy hers or her son’s. He was flirting with them both and that was not an option for her.

  After dinner at a chic French bistro they went back to the hotel. The children, tired and full of food, went to sleep within twenty minutes.

  “Can we sit on the balcony for some time, if you don’t mind? I’d like a word with you.”

  Hussain seemed far too pleased and gave her a slow incendiary smile, which she decided to ignore, especially since his potent charm was beginning to work on her so compellingly. No, no, no! She chided herself, first her ex-husband, the psycho and now this playboy? She was far too sensible for these old tricks; only she’d never had the opportunity to actually experience these old tricks and they were rather enticing and flattering, but, NO!

  Unaware of her inner debate, Hussain replied charmingly, “Why don’t you go ahead and I’ll get us some coffee and join you.”

  “It’s eight. If I have coffee now I won’t be able to sleep.”

  “Hmm…I don’t see the problem. We can stay up late and talk or, if you have any other suggestion, I’m open to all sorts of innovative ideas that you may have. You see, I made a promise which rather constricts me. So…” he stopped suggestively.

  Taking advantage of the pause, she fired, “Hussain, I really need to talk to you about some very serious stuff so kindly lower the charm wattage and listen.”

  He laughed. “You think? Do you find the charm wattage… distracting?” His mouth twitched.

  He seemed to be enjoying this too much, so she plunged ahead and responded in a grave tone, “I think I need to reiterate the message I gave you earlier, about keeping your distance from Shahaan.”

  At his stunned expression she added quickly, genuinely, “Look I’m really grateful, I really am. You’re giving him time, including him…us...in everything but the truth is that this is not your life. You hired me to be a mother and to look after your own flesh and blood…”

  “She’s not,” his voice harshly cut across her panicked tirade.

  She stopped, confused, “I’m sorry…what?”

  His jaw was clenched and his eyes were icy but there was something else behind the icy veneer that she recognized instantly. Pain. She was no stranger to it.

  He walked away from her side, and stood looking across the beautiful Seine, his back to her. After a while, he spoke and his voice held regret, shame and a resignation that bordered on the tragic.

  “I don’t think she’s mine. Rutaba wasn’t what you’d call a typical wife or mother,” he paused and when he looked back at her, his eyes were full of contempt and fury. “She was a whore. She slept with every man she met, while we were married. It was like a disease with her and I didn’t find out about it until it was too late.”

  He turned around to face her and his eyes were no longer full of emotion and his face was a mask. “Actually, it was Nudrat who told me about Rutaba and her amorous affairs. I used to be the idealistic eastern male, hoping to get a woman who’d love me, someone with old fashioned ideals that no longer exist.”

  Then he stopped, gave her a wry smile and said, “Or thought no longer existed.”

  She couldn’t say anything. It was an alien and horrible concept to her. Her distaste must have shown in her face because he laughed, a bitter sound to her ears, “I wasn’t much better, as you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He gazed back at her and replied with a shrug, “I carried on an affair with a married woman after Rutaba’s accident. When her car crashed, she was with another man. They were both killed. How could I stay on in a city where I had been so openly maligned and shamed by my own wife? How those men must have laughed at me, doing business with me, while, my wife was sleeping with half of them.”

  He stopped but she felt his embarrassment and his anger acutely.

  “Nudrat was married to Nasir and she’d been a good friend to Rutaba and well…Nasir and I had…have known each other for years.”

  He sighed and it seemed to her that he was revisiting the past in order to re-evaluate that time and that version of himself.

  “I guess, I was disillusioned and I was bitter. I’m not making excuses for myself, just trying to explain to you that I became a different kind of man from then on. I changed from what I was to someone I didn’t like very much. But strangely enough, I find myself turning into the man I was—the man my mother raised me to be, and I had begun to think I was too old to have a change of heart…or life.”

  He added, “And that’s an opinion of me that you share, don’t you?”

  He seemed to challenge her; and yet she had the feeling that he wanted a reassurance that indeed it was possible for him to change, that she should reconfirm his faith in his own goodness, and in his redemption.

  “You’re mistaken if you think that,” she heard herself say, softly but with feeling. “I think we can change whenever we want. We’ve been given the gift of consciousness and knowledge, free will. Hussain, I think you’re very kind and thoughtful. You are the man your mother raised you to be.”

  Smiling she added, “And I’m not sure that you’re all that old!”

  He smiled and said in a teasing tone, “That old? Just some?”

  She laughed and nodded, and couldn’t believe she was flirting with him. Thinking of Natasha and what Hussain believed, she said with feeling, “Natasha is a darling child and she loves you so much…”

  “I know.” He looked disturbed again. “I love her, I do. For all practical purposes she’s my daughter but I’ll never be sure and I don’t want to be sure, otherwise…you know? It’s better this way. I never meant to be such a poor father.

  “When we found out Rutaba was pregnant we were so excited—Ami and I—and she was so pissed. She hadn’t wanted a baby, but I did. I bribed her with gifts and holidays and jewels…”

  He laughed again a little bitterly, as if at himself.

  “Nothing pleased her. Others could make her happy apparently. At least for the short durations while she was having affairs with them.”

  “I won’t deny I’ve had affairs with women but never with a married woman, except that one time. I’ve never felt as disgusted with myself as I did then. She was no better than Rutaba and I was no better than either of them. She and Nasir might have a strange kind of marriage but I had no right to take advantage of their lack of scruples. They both have a rather relaxed code of ethics. I didn’t, and yet I took advantage of the situation, because of my own weakness…her obvious offer…”

  He paused and said almost mockingly, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I was a better
man than that. I still am, and I hope you’ll believe that of me. Try to believe it. I haven’t given you any reason not to, have I, Shahira?”

  She shook her head but found no words to comfort him.

  “I have great respect and admiration for you. You’ve made a great deal of difference in my life, especially what you’ve done with Natasha. She’s healthier, happier, surer of herself now because of you. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

  He paused and added, “I wish you’d let me return the favor. Shahaan needs a father just as much as Natasha needed a mother. Or are you one of those superwomen who can do it all on their own?”

  She didn’t reply. She felt nervous and confused. She was both happy to hear the words he said, and dreaded that they might not mean to him as much as they did to her.

  “I guess our contract, if left that way, would allow you to be that but I really do want to help with the kids. I’ve wanted a real family for so long. I always did but that woman took it all away from me. You could be the woman to give it all back to me, Shahira…if you wanted. I really wish you would.”

  It seemed to Shahira that the air stilled; everything stopped, waited on bated breath for her response, but her voice was stuck in her throat and her heart sank in dismay and dread. She wasn’t ready for that level of sharing. She couldn’t trust him. Not another man who would hurt her, and use and abuse her, turn her into a cipher because of his own limitations. A part of her brain said that Hussain was not that kind of man, that he was emotionally secure and good-hearted. But she couldn’t find her voice.

  That eternity of silence ended at last when Hussain spoke and his voice was cold, impersonal.

  “No need to look so horrified, Shahira. It was merely a suggestion. I gave you my word. That’s something I’ve always kept, even when I was being the worst caricature of myself.”

  He made a move to return to the room, stopped and added, “Just for the record, I’ve never said anything close to what I just did to you, not to any woman since Rutaba…and I never felt anything like this for her.”

  ≈

  ELEVEN

  It had been three weeks since their return, and Shahira had fallen back into her routine. Everything was the same, and yet there was this emptiness that hadn’t been there before. It was something similar to the void she’d felt when her parents passed away; only now she couldn’t understand the reason for this new emptiness.

  Aunty Salma had commented at her preoccupation, but she didn’t know how to make an effort even with her, or what to do about it, since she didn’t really know what was wrong with her. So Shahira went through her daily duties like an automaton. She fell asleep every night thinking how happy she had been with this life, and she wished with all her might that she could go back to that state of mind, when everything had seemed so perfect.

  They’d parted on cordial terms, but there had been tension in the air and Hussain hadn’t come back with them, instead he’d flown straight on to the U.S. They’d had such a good time. She wished it hadn’t ended the way it did. She couldn’t get that conversation out of her head and she felt deflated, anchorless. It was almost as if some part of her was missing.

  A huge mental block reared its head and she couldn’t think beyond it. She thought of the burden he’d lived with. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him, suspecting Natasha wasn’t his daughter. No wonder he’d found it difficult to stay with her. She was the exact replica of her mother. Now she knew how much hurt and resentment his late wife had inflicted. How terrible it must have been for him—her unfaithfulness, his suspicions about Natasha. He was very brave to trust another woman enough to offer her what he had to her. He’d been badly hurt in his marriage just like she had.

  Shahira knew she’d lost faith in love long ago. As a young girl, she’d tamed any romantic inclinations, knowing her parents’ constraints, but after her horrible marriage she’d lost the ability to trust anyone again. She’d never give to another man that power over herself. She just couldn’t allow that to happen.

  She put her little trinkets into her cupboard, her mind far away, still thinking of those wonderful times they’d had in Europe spent laughing and having a good time, just…fun. Lost in thoughts of the wonderful time spent together, she turned towards her bed and gasped.

  The connecting door between their rooms stood open and framed in it was Hussain, looking tired and miserable. He watched her silently for some time, unmoving and unblinking. “Let’s play a game,” he said as he moved forward towards her.

  His voice was low, as if he was afraid to hear himself. He closed the distance between them slowly, almost reluctantly. “Let’s pretend that you really are my wife. That there is no stupid contract…just us.”

  He reached her and hesitantly, he touched her cheek with his fingertips, “And that you missed me, and that you’d be happy to hear it if I said that I missed you terribly.”

  Her hands were limp by her side and he took one and then the other in his, entwining his fingers with hers, and putting his forehead against hers, he whispered, “I missed you, Shahira.”

  She couldn’t move or protest or do anything but stand there, immobile and thrilled, listening to the staccato beating of her heart. His words had been spoken softly yet they raged in her mind and her heart.

  “Did you miss me? Even a little?”

  “Yes…”

  The admission stumbled out of her unconscious and her mouth, unbidden. She felt, rather than saw him smile.

  “I’d hoped you might.” He shifted his head slightly and put his rough cheek against hers, just for a moment, the duration of a heartbeat, and then slowly he closed the breath of distance between them and his lips found hers. Shahira’s eyes closed of their own accord and she melted against him. It was the softest touch of lips, like a promise, or the fulfillment of one.

  She felt bereft when his hands and his lips were no longer on hers. She opened her eyes. His eyes were searching hers and then his handsome face broke into a slow smile.

  “Will you come with me tomorrow?”

  Shahira nodded. If he’d asked if she’d jump out of the window she’d have said yes too.

  His smiled widened.

  “Good. Till tomorrow then.”

  And he left.

  ***

  When she woke up the next morning, Shahira was sure she’d dreamed the whole episode. Yet, she jumped out of bed, dressed quickly and rushed downstairs.

  And there he was…sitting at the table with both the children and Aunty. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he smiled. But he didn’t say anything more than the usual greeting.

  “We don’t want to go to school today,” Natasha protested but before Shahira could say anything, Hussain replied firmly, “No, missing school is out of the question. And anyway, I have things to discuss with your Mom.”

  Shahira’s heart skipped a beat.

  When the kids left, Hussain turned to his mother and said hesitantly, “Ami, I need a favor.”

  “Of course, beta whatever you want.”

  “Ami…er…there are a couple of meetings I have in Paris with some Arab investors. Shahira met them last time we were there, and dare I say, they were almost as enamored by her as you are. So they’re expecting her this time as well. Do you think you can look after the kids for three or four days so Shahira could accompany me?”

  Aunty Salma stared at him for just a moment too long and then her face broke into a smile and she said, “Of course, I can. When do you want to leave?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Oh…well, okay. No problem.” And she started off about some family gossip.

  Shahira felt as if a heavy weight had settled on her chest. So that’s what it was: he just wanted an assistant, an interpreter. It was all nonsense that he’d missed her. He must have thought he’d soften the dried up woman starving for attention and love, and then use her. He was no different after all. She laughed at herself bitterly, silently, for having even entertained
the thought that it could have been something else, something more than just tawdry manipulation. Everything he’d said and done had an end. It wasn’t real. None of it was real.

  Later that evening, he knocked and entered her room awkwardly, as if unsure of his ground. “I hope you’re okay with this?”

  He was watching her closely. She didn’t bat an eyelid.

  He added, his voice a little unsure “It’s not something that you don’t want to do, is it? I don’t want to force the issue. So tell me honestly, if you’d rather not. Although…”

  “I’ve never been without Shahaan even for a day.”

  She interrupted him tonelessly. She didn’t want to hear his excuses or his manipulative lies.

  “I know. That’s why I said just three days—even though that’s hardly any time at all but let’s not worry about that now, okay? They’ll be fine with Ami and Susan’s here to help. If you’re okay with this?”

  She nodded.

  “Shahira…”

  She looked up.

  “Thanks for making the effort. It means a lot to me. I know you’re taking a great leap of faith going alone with me.”

  She smiled and nodded. He seemed to hesitate, his eyes questioning and she gave him an over-bright smile to assure him his little stunt hadn’t bothered her at all. He gave her one of his long, impenetrable looks.

  “You’re not having second thoughts are you?”

  “Certainly not. Very excited, in fact.”

  He laughed. “Glad to hear it.” He came forward and whispered, “You have no idea how glad I am to hear it.”

  He took her mouth with his in a slow gentle kiss. She felt tears prick her eyes. No. Not again. She broke the kiss and moved away.