by Marisa Logan
One afternoon, at the end of March, I was working on taking down the displays for Women's History Month. April was National Poetry Month, so I was replacing the display with a selection of books by classic and modern poets, from Poe, E.E. Cummings, and Pablo Neruda, to Shirley Bradley LeFlore and Rae Armantrout.
It was near the end of the day and Jessica had already gone home. The night shift librarians were here taking care of students, and I was ready to go home as soon as I finished arranging the new display. I was locking up the glass cases when I heard the door open and my name was called out.
I silently cursed at hearing the voice. I turned to see Sunil stalking through the doors, hands thrust into his pockets. He was wearing a leather jacket despite the warm day, and his face was set in a grim stare.
“Sunil, go away,” I said. “I gave your papers to my lawyer. If you want something, talk to him.”
“This is taking too damn long, Sharada,” he said, stopping in front of me and pressing his face close to mine. “I sent those papers over almost a month ago.”
“And these things take time.” I slammed one of the glass cabinet doors shut so hard I almost thought I'd break the glass. “You coming down here and harassing me isn't going to get it done any faster.”
“I need that land back.” He leaned in closer, locking his eyes on mine. “I have business associates waiting on me, Sharada. Promises have been made and there's contracts waiting to be signed. I won't have you standing in the way. Not when I'm close to getting things rolling again.”
“What, another of your schemes?” I rolled my eyes and moved away from him. “You're going to be lucky if you don't get arrested this time. I could have you arrested right now, just for being here.”
He followed me as I stepped behind the front desk to retrieve my purse. I stopped by the phone, resting my hand near it. I could call campus security and have him removed. If he tried to put his hands on me again, all I had to do was scream. One of the other librarians would call for help. Though I worried about how long it could take for help to get here.
“Why are you giving me so much trouble?” he asked. He moved in close, practically pinning me against the desk. His blue eyes watched me with an intensity I'd never seen when we were married. “That's my land. It belongs to my family. You know it, and I know it.”
“It's in my name.” I gripped the edge of the desk behind me, trying not to let myself cringe in his presence. I kept my chin raised, staring him down.
“That was just for convenience. You have no right to that land!”
“And you have no right to come down here harassing me!” I clenched my fists. “Get out of here, now!”
He raised a hand. I batted it away on reflex. His face darkened and he grabbed me by my blouse. One hand went into his jacket.
“What's going on here?”
Sunil turned his glare on Steve, one of the night librarians. He stood just out of Sunil's reach, a heavy math textbook in his hands. From the way he was holding it, it looked like he was ready to hit Sunil with it if he had to.
“Sharada?” Steve asked. “Do I need to call security?”
“No need,” Sunil said. He let go of me and straightened his jacket. He turned to go, glaring at me the whole time. As he circled around the desk he pointed at me and said, “You turn over my land before the end of the week, or we're going to have a problem, Sharada.”
I watched him go, then collapsed against the desk, breaking down in tears. Steve came over and held me by the shoulders to support me. “Are you all right, Sharada? Did he hurt you?”
I just shook my head, unable to find my voice. I went to the ladies' room and splashed some cold water on my face. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I saw lines in my face that hadn't been there when Sunil and I were young and in love. I felt tired, so tired that I leaned against the sink, unable to find the energy to move. I stayed there until a couple of students came in, talking and laughing. I grabbed some paper towels and dried my face, forcing a smile so the girls wouldn't realize anything was wrong. Then I left, stopping at the front desk only long enough to reassure Steve that everything was okay and that there was nothing he could do.
On my way back to the parking lot, I kept my eyes out for each of the emergency call stations that lined the walkways through campus. I didn't see any sign of Sunil again, but the distance between one call station and another seemed much too far. I kept my pepper spray in my hand as I made my way to my car.
As soon as I got home I called my lawyer and told him I wanted to be rid of the land. I still didn't want Sunil to have it. I didn't want him to be able to sell the land so he could invest in some cheap new scheme to cheat innocent people out of their money. But I couldn't deal with him forcing himself into my life anymore. I needed to move on, and the only way I could do that would be to put an end to this situation, one way or the other.
Chapter 8
A few days after my encounter with Sunil, Harold and I had a dinner date. He took me to a little Italian restaurant and we sat at a private table near the back. Soft music played in the background and we spoke to each other in intimate whispers while sharing a bottle of wine. I told him about my childhood in India, and how it was such an adjustment when I moved here to America for the first time.
“What would you say was the biggest difference?” he asked.
I had to think about that. I took a sip of wine, mulling the question over. “The way people talk,” I said.
“What, our American accents?”
I laughed and shook my head. “No. Simpler things that you would never guess were a problem.”
“Like what?”
“Well,” I said, “like the first time I went to McDonald's. After I placed my order, the girl behind the counter asked, 'For here or to go?' I didn't understand what she meant. I spoke English perfectly before I even moved here, but that simple phrase wasn't something I was familiar with. I remember staring at her like I was some kind of idiot, and she just repeated louder and slower, 'For. Here. Or. To go?' As if that would help!”
“I never would have thought about that,” he said, chuckling. “It's such a common phrase.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding along with him. “But different places use different phrases to mean the same thing. Depending on whether you're in America, Britain, or anyplace else, 'to go' food might be called 'take out' or 'carry out' or 'take away.' Heck, even here in America, you see people in different parts of the country using 'soda' or 'pop' to mean the same thing. And...and I'm sorry, I must be boring you with my linguistic rants. My bachelor's degree was in Communication Studies.”
“Actually, I find it fascinating,” he said. “Language has always fascinated me. That's one of the reasons I teach English.”
I smiled and reached across the table, taking his hand in mine. It was so nice to have someone I could talk about anything with, even the silly, nerdy things that most people were never interested in. I could have been talking about furniture upholstery patterns or 1800s patent laws, and Harold would have hung on my every word.
We finished dinner but skipped dessert—silly as it might seem, now that I'd started dating again I was trying to watch my weight. We went out to Babe the Blue Pickup Truck and Harold drove me home. Classical music played on the radio, another contradiction about Harold's life. I would have expected a man wearing flannels and driving a pickup truck to listen to country.
When we got to my house, Harold walked me to the door, just as he did after each of our dates. I held his hands in mine and leaned up on my tiptoes to kiss his grizzled face. Then I looked up at him, bathed in the dim light of my porch light, and asked, “Do you want to come inside?”
Harold cleared his throat and his face started to turn pink. I tried not to giggle. A man his age, getting as shy and awkward as any teenager. “Are you sure you want me to?” he asked.
We both knew what this meant. Truth be told, I'd been wanting it for awhile. But like everything in our relationship, I
had wanted to let it come about naturally. Comfortably.
“I'm sure,” I said.
I held his hand as I opened the door, then I led him inside. The house was dark, and I left it that way, only flipping on the light at the top of the stairs. I kicked off my shoes and set my purse on the table by the door. Harold looked around, taking the house in with the same slow deliberation that he did everything. He stood there quietly, seeming unsure whether it was okay to take off his shoes and make himself at home.
I led him down the hall and into the living room. Moonlight drifted in through the sliding glass door, bathing the room in soft radiance. We sat on the couch, side by side, holding hands. I rested my head against Harold's shoulder. We were silent for a long time, but it was comfortable silence. The silence of intimate companionship.
We eased closer to each other. I slipped my hand up to his neck and leaned up to kiss him. He kissed me slowly, taking the time to savor the taste of my lips. We weren't in any rush. I knew we had all night.
Harold rested his hand on my hip, holding me like I was a fragile dove. The way he touched me, the way he moved with such care, I could tell he was worried about hurting me, or about crossing a line I wasn't ready for. But I didn't want there to be any lines, any barriers between us. I nestled into his embrace, finding a comfort in his arms that I hadn't known in a long time. A peace that I sorely needed, more than I'd even realized. Being held by him made me feel safe, and warm.
I laid my head against his chest. He stroked my hair, and I could hear the sound of his heartbeat. A warm smile spread across my lips as his fingers ran through my hair. It was a simple touch, but it spoke volumes about this man that he could be so content, and bring forth such feelings of warmth within me, with such a simple touch.
Later in the night we lay together in the guest bedroom. I hadn't wanted to bring Harold into the bedroom I'd shared with Sunil. I didn't want any thoughts or memories of my ex-husband to taint this night. I held Harold close to me as we lay there in the dark. I brought Harold's hand to my lips and I kissed the backs of his calloused fingers. He looked at me through the darkness and said, “I hope that was all right. I haven't...”
“It was wonderful.” I caressed his face, then ran my fingers through my hair.
“It's just that, I haven't been with any other woman but my ex-wife. So I didn't know...”
“Harold,” I whispered, smiling and pulling him closer. “My silly man. You were amazing.”
We snuggled together, shifting around until we found a comfortable way to lay, his arm around me, my head resting against his shoulder. I listened to the sound of his breathing until he drifted off to sleep. I lay there for awhile, content, staring out the window into the moonlit night.
In the deep of the night I found a comfortable silence within myself. The silence of a calm night, a gentle embrace, and the slow, deep breathing of the man who was becoming a part of my world.
Chapter 9
I woke up the next morning in the arms of a man for the first time in over a year. I looked at Harold, watching him for a few minutes as he slept. He looked peaceful. I thought that maybe I could get used to waking up next to his face for a long time to come.
I quietly slipped out of the bed and headed downstairs without bothering to put any clothes on. I made sure the curtains were closed so that I wouldn't have to worry about peeping neighbors, then I headed into the kitchen.
I hummed to myself as I made a quick breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, and half a grapefruit. I divided it all between two plates, and somehow managed to balance them with one hand while I grabbed the orange juice out of the fridge with the other. I pondered for a moment about how to carry two glasses as well, then decided that it was a “drink OJ straight out of the carton” kind of morning.
I went back upstairs and climbed into bed with Harold. He stirred a bit but didn't wake up. I was tempted to wake him, but he seemed so tired and peaceful that I just had to let him sleep. I balanced my plate on my lap as I ate, then laid there for awhile caressing Harold's sweet sleeping face.
When I heard the alarm go off in the other room, I realized I had to get ready for work. I slipped out of the guest room, leaving Harold's plate on the nightstand, and went into my bedroom to get ready for my day. By the time I'd showered, dressed, and gotten ready to leave, Harold was only just waking up.
“Sleepyhead,” I said as I stood in the doorway, shaking my head at him.
He looked up at me, fully dressed and ready for my day, then looked down at himself, naked and covered only by a sheet. “I can be dressed in a few minutes,” he said. He struggled to get out of bed with the slow movements of a man wearing his years. He grabbed one sock on the floor, then looked around for the other one. I wasn't sure where I'd tossed it last night.
“Stay,” I said, stepping over to him and pushing against his shoulders to lower him back onto the bed. “Get some rest, have some breakfast.” I nodded to the slightly warm plate.
“But...”
“It's okay, Harold.” I leaned over and kissed him. “I've got to run to work. You take your time. Make yourself at home. I'll see you at the library later?”
He nodded and smiled at me, then took my hand and raised it to his lips. “You're a wonderful woman, Sharada.”
“Silly man.” I kissed his forehead, then headed downstairs and out to my car. I pulled out of the driveway, glancing at Babe the Blue Pickup Truck, which still sat parked at the curb in front of the house. I smiled and drove off, humming softly to myself on the way to work.
I strolled into the library with a huge grin on my face. “Good mooorning, Jessica,” I sang as I walked past the front desk and tossed my purse into the main office.
She spun around in her chair, smiling up at me. “You're in a good mood.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I poured myself a cup of coffee from the cheap little coffee pot in the office, inhaling the aroma.
“I'm guessing Harold's in a pretty good mood this morning, too.”
I glanced at her sidelong and said, “He was when I left this morning.”
Jessica laughed. “It's about time, girl. Good for you.”
I laughed as well, feeling light and alive. I had a huge smile on my face the entire morning, even when I had to deal with a few annoying students who came up asking for books when they didn't even know the titles. It seemed like nothing could spoil my mood.
Around mid-morning, I realized I'd left some paperwork in my car. I headed out and walked to the employee parking lot, savoring the feel of the warm spring sun on my face. I greeted a few students as I walked by, and I stopped to smell the flowers blooming by the art building. I was so lightheaded, in fact, that I got all the way to my car before I realized I'd left my purse, with my keys inside, back in the library.
I turned to head back when I saw a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Then a hand shot out and grabbed me by the arm.
“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” Sunil shouted, waving a handful of papers in my face. He threw me back against my car and stood there towering over me. “You think this is funny, Sharada? You think you can play games with me?”
“I'm done dealing with you, Sunil!” I shouted, my voice trembling. I cringed back against the car, wishing I had my purse, either for my pepper spray or for my phone to call the police. “You can't keep coming down here and messing with my life. I'm calling the police and you're going to jail for violating the restraining order.” I should have called the cops on him weeks ago. It had just been too hard for me to call the police on the man I had once loved.
“I wouldn't waste my time looking at your worthless face if you would cooperate with me,” he shouted, waving the papers at me. “Instead, your lawyer sends me this garbage? What is this?”
“A settlement,” I said. “Fifty/fifty. My lawyer said—”
“Screw your goddamn lawyer!” he shouted. “That land is mine and I will have all of it. Not half. What kind of garbage is this? Half!”
<
br /> I looked around, but there was no one in the parking lot. No one close enough to help, at least. I saw a few students off in the distance looking at us, but they were too far away to be able to tell how heated the argument was. Maybe they would call for help, I thought, but not in time.
“Half is all I'm giving you,” I said, clenching my fists. “I shouldn't even give you that much, you lying cheat.”
I felt the burning slap across my face before I even saw Sunil move. I raised my hand to my cheek, quivering like a leaf. Tears streamed down my face. If I'd still held any kind of latent feelings for this man, the man I'd once vowed to be with for the rest of my life, it all vanished in that moment.
I saw violence in his eyes. He heaved deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists. I caught a glimpse into his jacket and saw his gun holstered there. I didn't know if he was angry enough to draw it on me, but I knew that if he did, I'd never be able to stop him.
“Now you listen to me, Sharada—”
He was cut off by the revving of an engine as Babe the Blue Pickup Truck whipped around the corner and stopped right in front of us. Harold stepped out and reached into the back of his truck, drawing a four-foot-long two-by-four and clenching it in his fists like an axe. He advanced on Sunil. “You keep your damn hands off the lady, Mister.”
Sunil reached into his jacket. I stepped forward and grabbed him by his lapels. “No! No, Sunil. I'll give you the land. All of it. Just...just go away. Go away and leave us alone.”
Harold watched me carefully. “Sharada...”
Sunil snapped his hand up and pointed a finger at Harold. “You stay out of this. This is between me and my wife.”
Harold stepped forward, but I held up a hand to stop him. I knew he was chivalrous enough to fight to protect me, but I didn't want that. I didn't want to risk seeing him get hurt, and I didn't want to be protected. This was between me and Sunil, and I had to settle it myself, or else I'd spend the rest of my life in fear of him. Even if the only way to settle it was to give him what he wanted.