Begin Again

by Sarah Sanders

  The emotional rejection from my mom and the zero giving from my dad also made me a very shy person. This in turn has impacted my relationships all through my life because I find it difficult to open up. To be myself.

  Betha’s complete acceptance of me and the unbounded love she gives me…no, surrounds me with…have filled so many, many cracks in me. She is the reason why I can now completely be myself.

  She is also the reason why I have got better, more open, more giving in my other relationships and have deeper friendships.

  I know Betha is capable of great love…I mean, who would know that better than me, right?...but does she want to start a family? Of one thing I am certain, if she does want a family…kids…it is only with me. If she doesn’t feel it with me, she won’t with anyone else. Maybe she is ready. Maybe she’s not yet ready. Maybe it has never occurred to her.

  But ready as I am, I need to know where she stands before bringing it up.

  Hell! She hasn’t even proposed to me yet. We’re not yet married.

  I know, I know…I can propose too…and take us further…but I would like her to do it.

  Remember, I’d said I want to be wooed? I need to be proposed to. Maybe, it is not even about being wooed as much as a deep seated need to be wanted. To be chosen by someone.

  Another sad and sorry fallout of my pathetic brought up.

  No matter what psychology or pop-psychology say, the end result is the same – I need Bethy to propose to me.

  I know if she does, I will be screaming yes before would even be able to complete the question. I want to be married to her. I want to make that commitment. I want is to be legally bound.

  I am agnostic, so it is not that I am looking for a religious sanction. Even the legality is not so much for society but for the fact it is a declaration of and intent. Of a commitment towards another person. Of telling someone that you are choosing them for life. That you see yourself choosing them, and only them, over and over again every single day of your life. (I did say I am a romantic, right?)

  It is the socially accepted and normalised version of beating your chest and screaming from treetops. It is claiming your stake on another person. Marriage says ‘Mine’ in no uncertain terms. It screams ‘I am hers and I want to be hers’. It is beautiful to belong to someone and to declare that to the world.

  I have never felt so certain of any relationship before. Not even when I was married for all those long years.

  Betha is indeed my other half…my better half…and my forever. I feel it in my bones. I know it in my soul.

  “Princess, are you up to some travelling next weekend?” Betha asks.

  “Okay,” I say, though I’m not enthused. I want at least one month of lazy, lie-in-bed weekends. But if Bethy want to go somewhere, I’m in. “Where are we going?”

  She smiles at me, “It is Valentines…and I want to surprise you, Kitty Kat.”

  A surprise from Betha…my inner being glows with anticipation. I love surprises from Betha. Except for that one time with the dildo – which came from her insecurity about me – Betha’s surprises are unique. Exciting. Awesome.

  ******

  We both end our day early on Friday. Betha takes me to the airport. Ooh...we’re flying somewhere. In a private jet. I’m feeling like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman – remember when she was flown to Paris for a romantic meal? In a private jet? Yes…I’m feeling the same.

  This year Betha didn’t get a promotion in terms of designation but she was bumped up within her band in terms of perks. One of the perks she now has is totally insane. Translink gives use of private jets for personal purposes once every year to their employees in this band. The employee can ask for and book the jet to go anywhere in the world. There are no distance limits imposed. Just that it can only be used once every year.

  Obviously, they must be having a fleet of jets and/or there must be a select few to whom this perk is offered. But it is something I’ve never heard of and it is like, super-exciting. That company does some crazy looking-after and pampering of its employees. We’ve all heard of happy employees.

  We’ve heard of organisations that put their people first. But I’ve never heard or seen anything like Translink. However, the most awe-inspiring achievement of the mega-company is that it remains politics-free.

  Apparently, over a decade back, Radhika had developed some sort of a, ongoing 360 degree feedback system. They take feedback randomly plus at the start, during and at the end of each project. They also take continual feedback about managers by having one question pop-up each day for each person to answer. At the backend they collate and average the scores. The feedback is taken on parameters based on attitude, skills and knowledge. They have weighted percentages for different roles giving feedback and get a systematic, continuous feedback of each person.

  The way Radhika designed it, it highlights any favouritism or prejudice and gives an eagle’s eye view of how each department is doing. They also use it for succession planning and for creating individual training paths so that those who are not up to speed can be brought up and those who seem to be ready for the next level can be trained for it.

  This was her baby entirely and she has kept honing and fine-tuning it to make it more robust, transparent and error-free. There is no way anyone can game the system. This is one of the fail-safe means by which they ensure that no politics creep in.

  The other unbeatable way of keeping office politics at bay is the culture that they have built within the company. Right from the start, under Reeth, the culture took shape. Translink has always been known as an organisation that did not have politics. Reeth had set that culture in place firmly before Radhika came along and ensured that there would be no possible way for that culture to change.

  Translink also ensures that their people are happy with the work they are doing. They find the best fit for each person and give them wok that challenges them. They create endless opportunities for growth for each individual. Every person is limited only by their own capacities and Translink ensures that each person reaches their highest potential. It is magical, what they do and what they have achieved.

  So here is Bethy, leading me up a red carpet into a private jet. The inside is plush. Luxurious. Behind the cockpit is the pantry which the guest doesn’t need to see or use.

  But as we turn into our area, there is something like a cosy, intimate living room that leads to a dining area. Then there is a restroom which is a full-sized bathroom.

  The pièce de résistance, however lies beyond the bathroom. The final area of the aircraft is a fair sized bedroom with an en suite. There is a queen-sized bed in there just inviting use. Demanding use.

  One tiny part of my brain wonders how often and in how many ways Radhika and Reeth must’ve used it…but then, I think they have their own private jet which they mustn’t be sharing with anyone else.

  The ‘living room’ has a sofa, two push chairs and a centre table. On the centre table there is a gorgeous floral arrangement. In deference to the Valentine theme, the flowers are in different shades of pink. From the softest, tenderest baby pink, to flowers with hints of pink all the way through hot pinks and magentas, these flowers are a rush of a little piece of romantic heaven.

  The dining area is set for two with candle lights and mood lighting.

  I am right now a well-made jigsaw of tiny, tiny heart shaped pieces about this the whole surprise that my love has planned and is unfolding for me.

  We settle into the sofa and then we take off. Betha is talking to me as the captain is making his announcement of the flight plan, so I miss getting to know the destination. But I don’t need to know it. Bethy wants to surprise me and I want to be surprised by her.

  I have no doubt that it will be something madly romantic and certainly not run-of-the-mill.

  My Betha is as romantic as I am. Plus she is wildly inventive as well.

  ******

  It is a long flight. We have more than enough time to join the Mile High
Club – multiple times.

  There is something about being eaten out at thirty thousand miles up in the air that is beyond sexy. I have tried to keep the noise down, but I sincerely hope that the bedroom is either soundproofed or someone before me has also been verbally expressive.

  I’m not sure I can meet the crew in their eyes whenever it is time for us to disembark. Maybe I should do that ridiculous celebrity act and ensure I’m wearing dark, dark shades even if it is night when we leave the aircraft. I can probably pull off those well-document and highly photographed blank looks also so that people think I’m not making eye contact with anyone.

  Betha, of course, looks like she’s won the Nobel Prize in Lovemaking, looking thoroughly self-satisfied.

  We sleep for a while. Bethy lets me sleep until after we have landed. I am bleary eyed and in a sleepy haze as I stumble out on Betha’s arm.

  It’s quite late in the evening wherever we are. If the darkness of the sky is any indication it is quite late in the night.

  We go into the airport and Beth presents our passports. I sleepily register that it’s an immigration desk, that Betha has got our passports…so we have flown out of the country.

  The immigration officer completes the formalities, stamps our passports, smiles up at us and says, “Welcome to Corsica.”

  That wakes me up in a hurry.

  Corsica? She’s got me to Corsica? Who’d have think?

  It is definitely off the beaten track. Totally out of the norm.

  Though a part of France now, Corsica has a chequered past. Going back, way back, there have been Phoenicians, Greeks and Romans somewhere. Later, when Italy was still not defined as we know it today, Corsica was ruled by Pisa, by Genoa, briefly by England, and France. It declared independence. Being close to Sardinia, it shares some of the violent history of hot headed blood feuds. The hilly areas made it difficult to get the locals. But most of all, it is the birthplace of Napoleon Bonaparte. Ooh! Corsica is such an interesting choice.

  I slide my arm around her waist as we walk out and kiss her on the cheek.

  “Thank you,” I smile at her.

  “Don’t thank me yet.” Though she is demurring, her eyes hold a promise.

  “Honey, thank you for all the thought you put in…for making each day special. Thank you for loving me the way you do.”

  She kisses my forehead and we get into the car waiting for us.

  The transatlantic flight has done its number on us and we fall asleep as soon as we hit the bed.

  ******

  I wake the next morning to a lovely day. I can see the Mediterranean sparkling a splendid blue from the large windows. We are in Ajaccio, the capital of Corsica and the city where Napoleon was born.

  I can feel that Betha is awake. On our days off, she wakes up and lies around with me in her arms till I wake up. I am not sure how long she just lays there with me. I must ask her whether it is hours or minutes. I turn my head and kiss her shoulder.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bethy,” I mumble.

  “Happy Valentine’s, Kitty Kat,” she kisses me softly on my lips and gives me a packet.

  This one looks like something she has made for me. I so wish I could also make things for her. Betha is constantly giving me gifts. Small, big, extravagant, thoughtful, not expensive…but of all of them my favourite kind of gifts from her are the ones she makes for me. I open it in a hurry.

  It’s another innovative toy. This one is voice activated. It is the cutest little hedgehog, lying all curled up. When I speak to it (Beth is going to programme, set and lock the activation word or phrase I want…I plan to use ‘Betha, I love you’ as the activation phrase), it blinks a couple of times, gets up, then looks at me and declaims –

  You are my North, my South, my East, my West

  My working week and Sunday rest

  You are my dream, my joy, my best

  You are my wings, my soaring, my nest

  Princess, I love you.

  “Bethany Swift, I love you so much,” I say rolling over her. I look into her eyes, “How did I get so lucky in life?” the question escapes me unbidden.

  “I think it is about me more than about you,” she says with a serious deadpan expression, which I’ve come to recognise as her teasing me. “I think I’ve been really good in my life and the universe decided that I deserve a reward and gave me what I wanted to most.”

  “So you’re saying that you stood first in class and I am just a freeloader who’s got a free pass to come along for the ride?”

  “No Kitty Kat…you are the ride,” she grins.

  I attack her ticklish spots with all I’ve got, but am soon, unsurprisingly, bested…and then we ride. With each outing our ride gets better and better…and wetter.

  ******

  After a leisurely breakfast, we meander towards the Tino Rossi port. We go through the main square that has a market of local produce. We dive into the by-lane where houses Napoleon’s birth home and take a quick tour of the place.

  When we reach the marina, we are greeted by a man of indeterminate age who has a red weather-beaten face. He has been waiting for us since morning and it is only then that I realise that Betha has planned this in more detail than I imagined.

  We get into a boat and are on our way to Scandola Natural Reserve, a UNESCO Heritage site. There are dramatic rock formations jutting out of the sea, there are grottos and caves.

  Our guide informs us that a volcano collapsed in the sea and formed the unique landscapes. The dramatic rocks jutting out of the sea are of a distinct red colour and incredible.

  Between three and four hours later we are back and I find a van waiting for us at the marina. We get in and stop on the way to pack a couple of to-go sandwiches and a couple of bottles of water. Set on the food front, we are soon driving up the mountain.

  Off the left side of the road we can see the sea and the colours of the sea are indescribable. Deep black, inky blues, deep blues with shots of green, crashing lighter blues. We stop a while to just sit and watch the sea in all its glory. It is hard to break away from there, but Betha promises me something even more spectacular ahead so I follow her back to the car.

  And as promised, rising before us are these towering red rocks. The driver-cum-guide tells us something about where we are headed: Calanques de Piana. These are also a part of the protected reserve and the rocks which we see rise almost a thousand feet from the sea. They are red granite.

  The untamed, unspoilt rock formations are mesmerising. First with Monument Valley, followed by Scandola and now these calanques, Betha has given me an unexpected and fresh appreciation of rocks. I had never paid any particular attention to rocks or spent any mindspace on them. They just were. But now, I think rocks are absolutely amazing.

  I tell Betha about my new-found appreciation and add, “Honey, you have made the most mundane of things mesmerising for me. You are magic,” I bat my lashes at her for a good measure.

  She looks inordinately pleased. “I love rocks. There is something so majestically eternal about them,” she confesses, “and I am so glad you are enjoying them too.”

  The driver drops us at a particular point so that we can stroll along the road enjoying the rock formations as much as we please and for as long as we want. He goes ahead to wait at a restaurant at the end of the trail. It’s a long road between Ajaccio and Calvi, but the highest concentration of the soaring, lofty beauties end at the place where the restaurant is situated.

  We set a leisurely pace, walking hand-in-hand, stopping often. We find one rock that looks like Yoda point his finger at the sea as if he is reprimanding it. We build a whole dialogue around Yoda’s rebuke and the sea’s arrogance. We are dubsmashing for all we are worth and are in splits.

  When we get our breaths back, I need to feel her closer and wrap my arm around her waist. She slings her arm around my shoulders and no moment can be more perfect.

  The sun is in the western sky and the rocks are proudly red. It is off-season,
so the road is empty. Just like the sunrise at Monument valley, we are the only two people in the world again and Nature is unveiling her incredible beauty just for us.

  As if of one mind, we turn towards each other at the same time, smiling…the kiss that follows is the sweetest one. It is affection…it is sharing…it is appreciation…it is happiness…it is love.

  We reach the restaurant and order coffee. I sit back comfortable enjoying the rocks, the sunset, the sunrays over the rocks, the pleasant breeze. I am basking in the day we have had. I am revelling in the happy that my life has become. The melody of contentment flows through me…and then strikes a jarring note.

  Betha is hurrying me up. Seriously? I mean, the restaurant has an open terrace where we can sit and watch the lowering sun paint the vista in ever changing colours. This is a view to die for.