Omar knew that Nim was eyeing him. They were still at the bar, seated tightly around a small table waiting for Fairman and Sumi to change for the reception and then make an entrance in the ballroom. Imran had been updating Omar about MalaysiaTimes, which had over one million subscribers, making the business of journalism more lucrative than ever, and Imran a very wealthy man. Omar sipped his gin and tonic and moved his thigh away from Nim’s sari, which had been slightly pressed against him. She was a stunning woman, he thought, noting her flawless skin, high forehead and dark brown eyes. Her lips were full and her neck, elegant.
“So, where did you two meet?” he asked politely, tired of hearing Imran prattle on and on.
Nim smiled, cocked her head to one side and asked, “Where do you think we met?”
Imran put his hand on Omar’s thigh and said, “She works for the CIA, she’s a spy,” and clicked his tongue, winking at Nim.
Nim let out a laugh. “Oh please, stop it,” she said, and looked intently at Omar. “Just because I’m American, live in DC and carry a gun doesn’t mean I’m a spy.”
“So what are you then?” Omar asked, intrigued.
Imran butted in: “Get this, she’s a weapons expert, and we met at a conference in DC. You know that the Americans think Iraq has WMDs right?”
Nim shrugged and raised a thick eyebrow. “No comment,” she said. “Yet.”
Omar raised his glass and downed his gin and tonic. It was his second drink and he felt loose. He was in good company and the conversation was, for once, not about Alba or legal contracts.
“Another round?” he suggested, and raised his hand to attract the attention of the waiter at the next table.
“Sure.” Nim smiled coyly at Omar.
A mobile phone rang and Imran reached into his pocket to answer it. “Sorry, need to take this,” he said and edged his way around the table.
“The world’s changed after 9/11, America is more vulnerable than ever,” Nim continued. “We—”
“Are all terrorists,” Omar interjected. “It’s a witch hunt, isn’t it? On a global scale.”
Nim leaned over, her face inches away from Omar’s. He could feel her breath, smell her sweet, flowery perfume. “I’d like to hunt you,” she whispered.
Omar leaned back and said, “I-I’m married. As you know.”
The waiter arrived with their drinks and while he placed them on the table, Imran arrived with a bowl of nuts.
“Bloody starving, dinner better be soon, or I’ll start eating something else.” He eyed Nim blatantly. Omar stared into his third gin and tonic, slightly shocked at Imran’s open innuendo, but then told himself that it was a wedding party and silliness was allowed. Besides, if he had been single, he would have allowed Nim to seduce him, and he would have been a more than willing shag.
A voice called out to the bar: “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served. Please make your way to the ballroom.”
“Right, let’s eat.” Imran stood up and downed the rest of his drink, then offered his arm to Nim. “Shall we?”
Omar downed the rest of his gin and tonic and said, “Let me just check on Del and Alba. See you in a bit.”
Nim gave him a lingering smile, and as she kissed Imran on the cheek, Omar ran quickly up the stairs.
When we walked in, everyone was standing, making a toast. It was Fairman on the microphone and we caught the tail end of it.
To my beautiful, brilliant wife. I am indeed a lucky man. Cheers!
A waiter offered us champagne and we saw Imran waving at us wildly. We were all at the same table, along with Riz, Jin and their girlfriends, who had a startling resemblance to one another. The first course arrived. It was a lobster bisque with a warm dinner roll on the side. I broke off a side of the roll and spread a generous helping of butter, dipping it into the soup. It was slightly lukewarm, but delicious.
Wine, darling? Omar asked.
I nodded. He poured out a glass for me and then offered the bottle to Nim, who was seated on his right. I noticed that she did not touch the bread and sipped the bisque slowly. She laughed as Omar said something to her and put her spoon down, dabbing her mouth lightly with a napkin. I took a swig of wine and leaned over to ask, What is Nim short for?
Nirmala.
Omar quipped: Nirmala is a weapons expert.
Hmm, interesting. I felt restless and wanted the food to arrive more quickly. I decided to take my glass of wine and go talk to Sumi, who was seated at the main table. I slid out from my chair and Omar asked, Where you going?
Going to talk to Sumi, I answered.
But, it’s the middle of dinner. He looked at me, puzzled.
It’s okay…just a quick chat.
I took another large swig of wine and walked towards Sumi who also had a glass in hand. She looked like she had not touched her food. Seated at the table were both sets of parents, Fairman’s siblings and their spouses. His dad was pouring whisky and Fairman looked like he already had a few. I smiled at Sumi and whispered, Want to step out?
She nodded and whispered into Fairman’s ear. He nodded, dug out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and handed them discreetly to Sumi under the table. Fairman’s dad was on the verge of another toast and we excused ourselves and walked quickly towards the main doors.
We walked towards the beach, the wind had picked up and the waves were crashing onto the shore. The pine trees were swaying slightly and the hammocks tied in between some of the trees were swinging from side to side.
You okay? I asked.
Sumi had turned away from the wind, trying to light a cigarette. I put my hands around the flickering flame to help, and after a few attempts, it was lit. Sumi took a deep drag and exhaled, the wind blowing the smoke back into her face. It whipped our hair and Sumi’s long dress wrapped itself around her ankles.
Yeah, just tired, she said. Want dinner to be over so I can go to bed.
It’s been beautiful, you know. Really special.
Sumi nodded and her eyes filled with tears. I gave her a hug.
Hey, you’re going to be fine. It’s just nerves. Family can do that to you.
It’s just that it’s so final, you know? This is it. I’m married. Can’t fuck up.
I kept quiet. It had been more than two years for me and I already felt that I had been put through a wringer. Take your time having a kid, just enjoy being married first.
Sumi took a final drag of the cigarette and flicked it away. We’re supposed to be dancing on the beach later. What if it rains?
We’ll see, let’s go back in.
Sumi nodded, I took her hand and together we walked briskly back to the hotel, the wind whirling around us, like impatient fairies.
Omar woke up with a hangover. Alba was climbing over him and he got a kick in the chin, which made him grimace. “Papa…” She smiled, then started bouncing on his chest.
“All right, all right.” He sat up and rubbed his temples. He would have to take a couple of paracetamol to get through the day. “I’m up, baby girl.”
The sun was peeking through the thick curtains and the air conditioning was a little too cold, so he reached for the remote and turned it off. He padded to the window and pulled open the curtains. Sunlight streamed into the room and Alba ran to tug at his feet. She wanted to go out onto the balcony. He opened it and they stepped out. A soft breeze blew in as Omar picked Alba up and kissed her cheek. “Look, it’s a beautiful day, perfect for your birthday party, Alba.”
She clapped her hands and said, “Want susu.”
Omar turned to go inside just as the door to the neighbouring balcony creaked open. Nim stepped out, clad in a fluffy bathrobe. She waved at him and mouthed good morning. Omar waved back and closed the door. He had gotten very drunk last night, Imran dictating the number of shots they drank. After the wine, it had been whisky, then tequila. Nim had drunk just as much, saying confidently, “I can drink you guys under the table; it’s in my genes, you know.”
Del was stil
l asleep. She had talked mostly to Sumi the night before, had stayed clear of the spirits, but had drunk a lot of wine. Omar filled the plastic kettle with water and turned on the television. Alba sat on the bed and shook her head at every channel until it came to a cartoon that she knew. As the animated characters danced across the screen, he heard the kettle boiling and turned it off.
He rinsed Alba’s bottle out in the bathroom sink and saw that his eyes were bloodshot. He found two round white pills and quickly downed them with mineral water. The tin of milk powder was on the counter along with all of Alba’s things—biscuits, dried fruit, nappies, folded clothes, extra milk bottles and teats. He put in five scoops of milk powder and poured in the boiling water, then mineral water. He shook it until the milk was frothy at the top, tested the temperature of the milk on his hand then gave it to an eager Alba who grabbed the bottle and started sucking on it loudly. He put a pillow next to her so she could lie on it, sat back on his side of the bed and closed his eyes.
Minutes later, he felt Del stirring. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. She was still asleep, and as she turned over, he reached for the remote and lowered the volume on the TV even more. He slid down the bed, closed his eyes again, and thought of the many times he had been in hotels, of the debauched nights he’d spent with women, of the endless fucking and lovemaking, of the endless bottles of wine and champagne, breakfasts-in-bed, showers, baths, endless pleasure he’d given and been given, of the days that turned into nights and bled into more days. He’d not had days like that with Del, and the thought of such wanton, reckless hedonism, whilst watching his daughter drink from a milk bottle, filled him with revulsion and terror.
He got up, went into the bathroom, locked it and stepped into the shower. As the cold water hit his face and body, he felt revived; he scrubbed his hair and body and rinsed out his mouth. As he towelled himself dry, he ran the bath and filled it with bubbles. He put on a bathrobe, brushed his teeth and felt his stomach rumble from hunger. A good breakfast would right everything, clear his hangover and fuel him for the long day ahead.
I woke up to find a note on my pillow.
Gone for breakfast with Alba. Sleep in, darling. O x
I showered quickly, remembering the events of the night before, the raucous laughter and conversation that took place first after dinner, us dancing to 80s music and to the copious amounts of alcohol that we’d all consumed. Fairman, Imran, Nim and Omar doing shots by the bar while Sumi and I sat, drank wine and smoked, amused by their antics. I found Nim to be enigmatic, but I don’t think she found me interesting enough. After all, she was a high-flyer, a woman of the world, and I think she perceived me only as a wife and mother and not much of anything else. She didn’t smoke, but drank enough to just stay standing, and when Imran was almost legless, she kept drinking. She kept darting looks at Omar. I was certain she found him attractive; a woman knows these things, and I was not a fool. I found no reason to fault Omar, as he kept his distance and did nothing to cross the line.
Throughout the night I’d kept coming up to check on Alba, but thankfully she slept through the night, the long drive and the sea air probably tiring her out. It was such a treat to be able to be among adults, doing things adults did, and yes, I had missed it. Sumi and I had shared some quality time and nothing untoward happened. But I had Alba’s birthday party to do, I had to check on the cake and decorations, and make sure that all was well.
I dressed and went downstairs, my hair still wet, wearing a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. As I walked into the dining room, I heard laughter and saw everybody seated at the same table. Alba was in a highchair, eating fruit from a bowl. Mama! she cried and everyone turned to me. Omar stood up and beckoned me to sit next to him. He kissed me on the lips as I sat down.
Sleep well? he asked. I nodded.
How’s everyone today? I looked around the table. A murmur went up, and the most audible word I could hear was hungover. I laughed lightly. Well it’s a wedding, people!
Fairman and Imran looked hunched and pale and as the waiter brought a carafe of coffee to me, Imran asked for more fresh orange juice. Sumi smiled widely and said, It’s Alba’s birthday today, how exciting!
Speaking of which, I need to go check on the cake. Omar stood up and Alba started waving her hands and protesting. All right, young lady, you can come with me…let’s go see what your cake looks like, shall we?
But I was going to do that, sayang— I protested.
It’s okay, let him, Fairman insisted. Imran nodded and retorted, The bastard’s not as hungover as I thought he’d be. We all laughed. Omar carried Alba out the dining room, bouncing her in his arms, her glee filling me with happiness. I sighed and for a moment, felt complete.
Nim stood up and said, I’m going to get more fruit, anybody want anything else? I shook my head and proceeded to drink my coffee. Sumi moved over and sat next to me. She looked well rested and gave me a hug.
You okay? I asked.
Uh huh… she said, and gestured to Fairman. He’s not so good though.
Hey, you guys should get a massage or something. Unclog your pores. Sit in a sauna…
No, the key is to keep on drinking, Del, hair of the dog, you know, Imran said. We got one more night, so let’s make the most of it, huh? Or—he looked at Nim—you could fuck my brains out…
Nim rolled her eyes and sat down. She picked up a piece of pineapple and inserted it in her mouth rather suggestively and Imran groaned.
Jesus, you guys. Get a room. Sumi threw her napkin at Imran.
Right, we’re off then. Come, Imran ordered. Woman!
Nim giggled and allowed Imran to lead her off. She turned and said. See y’all later.
What a bimbo, I said under my breath, but Fairman heard me.
Now now, be nice, Del.
I got up, grabbed my plate and headed to the breakfast bar. The coffee was making my stomach churn and I needed food. I heaped on scrambled eggs, bacon, baked beans and sautéed mushrooms. This was the kind of breakfast I liked but had no time to prepare any more. The kind that Omar and I had most weekends before Alba.
When I got back to the table, Sumi and Fairman had gone, leaving me alone to eat in peace and quiet. I looked around the dining room and saw an older Caucasian couple in a corner facing the sea, and a younger couple who had their legs entwined under the table. Probably on their honeymoon, I thought. The scrambled eggs were creamy and buttery and the bacon, crispy enough. I ate until the plate was almost empty and sighed in content. A quiet breakfast, a rare treat.
I looked at my watch, which showed 10.45am. I had about five hours before Alba’s tea party, so I sent Omar an SMS. The short stubby antenna had bite marks and looked like Alba had been trying to chew through the rubber exterior. Time to get a new phone, I thought.
A few seconds later, he replied. We r in the office. Come come. x
I drank the last of my coffee, wiped my mouth and walked out the dining room. I was assailed by piercing sunlight as soon as I walked out. Overhead, fluffy clouds gathered, the sea seemed calm and the pine trees swayed. It was the perfect day for a party. I walked through the lobby, nodded at the staff who said, Good morning, madam, and found my way into the hotel office where I found Omar and Alba sitting opposite a friendly-looking lady who said, Hi, I’m Fernie, madam.
Omar spoke. Just paying up for the party…and we are good to go! He signed the receipt, folded it, took his credit card and put it in his wallet.
Have you seen the cake? I asked.
Yup, looks great! He winked at me.
Alba reached out her arms to me. Oooh, baby girl…you want to go for a swim?
Great idea, said Omar, we can swim, have some lunch and then have a nap before the party. Perfect!
Have a great party, Alba! Fernie waved at us as we left the office, and as we walked away, I felt my heart explode into bursts of joy. Yes. It was perfect, perfect. Perfect.
They say motherhood is a joy. They say motherhood is bliss
. They say motherhood changes you for the better. You think less of yourself. More of others. Of the world. They say motherhood is a gift from the gods. They say motherhood is the ultimate sacrifice, that your children are here to teach you, and you learn from them. They say that motherhood is hard, but your love for your child will help you get through the difficult times. They say there is no greater love than a mother’s love. They say unconditional love exists between a mother and her child. They say this too shall pass, this too shall pass. They say when she sleeps, you sleep too. They say she will sleep through the night, when they reach a certain weight, they will be more independent. They say you will get your life back, eventually. They say you will not sleep for years, that you will never sleep through the night again, maybe when they’re five. They say breastfeeding will help you lose the weight.
They say a child is here to test you. They say a child will wreck a marriage that is not strong. They say a child will bring you closer. They say a child is a balm for the troubled soul. They say a child will ground you. They say that you will develop instincts. All mothers do. They say you will never recover. They say that your child comes first, above all else. They say sex will cease. They say your husband will love you more. They say your husband will love you less, and the child more. They say your body will never be the same again. They say female athletes are stronger after motherhood. They say it is like running a never-ending marathon. They say you will worry and worry for the rest of your life. They say the work as a mother never ends. They say that you will learn to let go.
They say that when your child says Mama, you will fall in love. They say your child’s character is there from birth, you are only there to facilitate who they will become. They are who they are. They say motherhood is the mark of being a woman. They say women who do not have children have not really lived. They say women who do not have children are selfish. They say women who do not have children live with regret. They say motherhood means you will never be alone. They say your children will look after you in old age.
They say some women never recover from post-partum blues. They say if you eat your placenta you will never get post-partum blues. They say the hormones in the placenta will replace the hormones you lose after childbirth. They say you can fry it with onions and garlic. That it tastes like liver. They say if you bury the placenta under a banana tree, the child will be bound to that place for life.
Once We Were There Page 18