by Anubha Mehta
24.
IT WAS A WHOLE YEAR of firsts in this new house. As the days became longer, so did Diya’s restlessness to get out of the house and play with real children who matched her in age and size. “When can I go to the park to play mama?” she would whine constantly.
“Soon,” I would reply. Most days this answer would satisfy her.
We both had fallen into a summer routine. Every morning as Diya potted around our large unkept backyard with her two stuffed friends, I tried to hone my culinary skills. The television became my best friend and if I could have the TV remote set on speed dial to all the cooking shows, I would have. Then by early afternoon, I would pack some sandwiches and lemonade to take down to the edge of the lake where Diya splashed to her heart’s content and returned to refuel her energy with a quick nap. Every afternoon, I battled with a choice of reading a book or cleaning a new corner of the house. I always succumbed to the easiest option: reading. I had some remorse at the end of each day for my terrible housework skills, but that guilt passed when I was able to show off my “dish of the day” at dinner time.
Summer flew by and when it came to an end, I was ready to take Diya to the neighbourhood kindergarten. Diya was very excited and took to school like a fish to water. Unlike the other children, she didn’t fuss or cling. She would hug me at the school entrance and then run in at the first bell. I always felt a pang to see her go, but I was happy to start this new phase of our lives. I had hope that our past pains were going to vanish like the falling golden leaves.
Our first winter in this old house by the lake was brutal. No matter how many layers I wore, the tips of my toes were always cold. Diya and I stayed mainly indoors, except for our trips to her school and back. The icy draughts that blew in through the rickety windows made the old heating system completely ineffective. I was very thankful for our living room fireplace and Veer’s ability to always have a stack of chopped logs available to keep it burning during the coldest parts of the day and night. Veer left early every day and came home in the evenings tired.
It had taken Veer a few months to establish his business and although he sometimes discussed his problems and challenges, I could tell that he was not unhappy with the progress he had made with his company. One evening, he came home in an unusually good mood.
“Maya we have closed our first quarter of the year with good overall profits. And this weekend I would like to buy you a car”.
I was a little surprised at this indulgence.
“Why? What is the need, Veer?”
“Diya would be starting school next year and you would need this… ”
“Diya’s school is not far,Veer. We can walk—”
“No, Maya, this is something I would like to do”
I wanted to continue my protests as a second car would be a significant expense, but then I thought of the mobility it would give me during the day to pursue and explore opportunities outside the home. “Well, okay then, Veer. Thank you,” I said with a big smile on my face. And I saw that he too in that moment was happy.
Finally, the days started brightening up and I started getting restless once again.
And, this time, I decided that once Diya started school, I would make my trip to the neighbourhood mall for a part-time job. I knew Veer would not be happy but it was a risk that I was willing to take.
***
It was a crisp fall morning and I had kissed an excited Diya goodbye at her school’s doorstep with a promise to be waiting under the grand willow tree as always. As I watched her two bouncy pigtails tied with multi-coloured pompoms disappear into the corridor, I made up my mind that today was the day that I would venture in search of a job.
I drove around the block and then parked the car in an empty mall. I realized that as a result of being cooped up in the house, I had not even bothered to buy myself some more western clothing that would help me blend in with the rest of the people here, and would also be suited for work.
I entered the quiet mall through automatic glass doors. The shops were still closed. I looked into one display window after another, examining the fashionable mannequins dressed in warm tweed coats in pumpkin shades, glamorous stoles, leather bags and purses, and sparkling pendants. When I reached the food court, I saw a middle-aged woman in a candy-striped dress cleaning the counter of an ice cream parlour. Suddenly I longed for a cool, creamy cone. I decided to give the woman a few minutes before I approached her shop, so I looked the other way. That was when I noticed a shop that seemed different from the rest of the shops in the mall. It was a fashion boutique. It had fancy bronze doors, and the mannequins in the display were draped with unstitched cloth in different weaves of earth colours.
It was open. I walked inside and while browsing through the aisles, I heard what sounded like someone hammering on a keyboard. It was the store manager. “Aarrgh … I lost all my data! Christ!” She was talking to herself.
I was from India, the Mecca of computer geeks, and had learned a few troubleshooting tricks in school. Without hesitating, I approached the woman and said, “Let me see.”
She seemed desperate for help, as she let me sit in front of her screen. She looked surprised, but also relieved. I fiddled with the general keyboard functions, and the screen showed some life. A spreadsheet popped back up. The manager started jumping with joy and gave me a high five. And, just like that, we started chatting.
“Hello, I’m Lucy.” She extended her hand. “Thank you so much for your help! Have you looked around the shop? Is there something in our store that you might like?” she asked.
“Like something? I like everything!”
She laughed. “Are you looking for something special?” she asked.
“Yes, I am looking for your most fashionable clothes, something I can wear when I get a job.”
She laughed even louder. “Does your job require you to wear ‘fashionable’ clothes? I felt foolish. Perhaps I was not able to explain properly. I had used the term fashionable because I found all the designs in this boutique very chic, whether they were meant for daily wear or not. I tried to explain again. “I need some appropriate clothes so that I can go to job interviews and be suitably dressed.”
“Yes, of course.” She was still laughing and studying me closely. Something about me amused her. I did not particularly like being laughed at, so I thanked her and started walking out.
I heard her voice again: “Would you like to work here?” I stopped and turned around to face her. I did not expect that. My heart cried “yes!” but my head stood its ground.
“To do what exactly? To fix computer glitches?” I asked as politely as I could.
“No, no. I am looking for someone to work here, someone who is able to cover some shifts when I have to run to the other store locations. I haven’t advertised the position yet, but, if you agree, I won’t have to. We pay a reasonable hourly rate, and we offer merchandise from our store as a commission on sales. Our clothing, you must know, is among the best in the country.”
I did not know what to say. I was looking for a job, but I hadn’t expected anything like this.
“Okay, let me go to the ice cream parlour first.” She did not even pretend to hide her laugher. She burst into a roar. I could not understand why.
The ice cream lady in candy stripes smiled as she piled an extra dollop of chocolate over vanilla. As the sugar hit my blood, my mind cleared up a little. So, a job was falling into my lap, and it was near the house. But I would have to be there for Diya and how would I handle Veer?
After five minutes of licking my cone, I made my decision. I walked back, and she smiled knowingly. “So, you could not resist? You will take it?”
“Well, only if you agree to let me go in the afternoon to pick up my daughter from her school.”
She chuckled. “Do you always dictate terms to your employers?”
“Well, frankly, you are
my first.” This time it was my turn to smile. I saw her jaw drop.
I completed the paperwork, and confirmed the start time for the next day.
It was a different Maya who walked out of the mall. I had a spring in my step, and a tune on my lips. The truth was that she had me at the offer of a “merchandise bonus.” That appealed to me. I decided to start small and work for fun. I promised myself not to get dependent on the puny money that came in, although I already knew that promise would be difficult to keep.
***
Over dinner, I told Veer about Lucy’s job offer. “Will you take it?” was all that he asked.
“Yes, I would like to. It will not affect our routine, and I will only go during the day when Diya is in school.”
He picked up his dinner plate and loaded it in the dishwasher. Then he went to his room and shut the door for the night.
The next morning, after waving goodbye to Diya, I arrived to find Lucy waiting anxiously at the door.
“Hello, Maya, I was afraid that you wouldn’t come. I’m so happy to see you!”
“Hello, Lucy.”
“I have called Brenda from our other location for your orientation. I have to run to a meeting at our head office. Our Annual Fashion Show date has just been announced. I will bring back more news soon.” She said all this in one breath and ran out of the door.
Brenda was in her late thirties, with kind brown eyes and auburn hair. Her tall tan boots matched her leather jacket that she was wearing over a lacy fawn-coloured shirt and brown, pencil-thin skirt. She was stylish and efficient. Her tone was soothing, and she had a lot of patience with my practise repetitions behind the cash register. The hours slipped by, and before I left I visited the chirpy candy-striped ice cream lady to pick up a tub of caramel praline for Diya.
That night over dinner Veer did not ask, nor did I volunteer, to tell him about my day. He had decided to disengage with anything about my life that he did not like, and I was grateful that he had found a way of coping with it, however temporary. But Veer was irritable. He snapped at me for his dinner being too hot. I could feel a storm brewing. That night before I went to sleep, I closed my eyes, folded my hands, and prayed.
25.
A ROUTINE DID WONDERS for my anxiety. As the novelty of the new schedule wore off, so did its associated nervousness. Work gave me something to look forward to.
But Veer had become withdrawn and quiet. The more I tried talking to him, the more he lashed out about something or other, but he never addressed the elephant in the room. I was not doing anything wrong and I could not understand Veer’s need to control and possess every minute of my life.
Every night I stroked Diya’s hair and sang to her. She sang with me, and she sang beautifully. After all, music was in her genes. “What’s wrong, Mama?” she asked one night, her hand pressing mine.
It was uncanny how children always knew. Every night I prayed for a better dawn, and some nights I drew solace from the cold seams of the stone bench under the angel statue. On many of those nights, I heard the wind laughing and sometimes whimpering. But I was not afraid of the wind anymore. I was not afraid of anything.
I simply didn’t know how to answer Diya’s question and it pained me to think that she might be worried or afraid. I’d tried my best to reassure her that everything was fine.
As the months went by, Lucy had started entrusting me with more work. Then one day when I arrived at work, she was waiting at the door. “Maya, have you ever been involved in a fashion show?”
My pulse quickened as I shook my head.
“Well, get ready then. William, our Production Director, is here from head office to orient you and other staff on our upcoming show next month. For the next few days, he will be with us to go over every detail.”
With that, she left for her daily site visit to the other showrooms across town. I returned behind the cash register and I was so engrossed in what I was doing that I did not notice someone standing behind me.
“Hello, Maya.” It was a deep and soothing voice.
I was startled and turned around abruptly. I found myself staring into the bluest eyes I had ever seen.
“Hello, I am William.” He extended his hand. His grip was warm and firm, his smile radiant.
“Hello, William.”
William was a tall, well-groomed man, almost debonair. He reminded me of Cary Grant in An Affair to Remember, except that he was a modern version. He was wearing a beige Polo shirt under a well-fitted blue suit jacket, over crisp blue-jeans, a blend of formal and casual. He had a lean jawline with an attractive cleft. His hair, a golden brown, was combed to the side, showing his widow’s peak. There was an unmistakeable athletic grace and sophistication about him.
Behind him was his young blonde assistant, attentive to his every word and radiating with a glow that only youth brings. She had a peaches and cream complexion, and her golden hair cascaded from her high forehead to the nape of her neck.
They were both so beautiful.
He was still holding my hand. I pulled it back, gently. His blue eyes were spellbinding, and he was staring at me without blinking. I looked away quickly.
“And this is Samantha.” We shook hands too. Her handshake was soft, brief, and supple.
Then William dove straight into work talk. Samantha pulled out the blueprints of the stage set up, and William started explaining each detail with the marked precision of someone who had been doing this for a long time and was very good at it.
That night, over dinner, I told Veer about the upcoming fashion show and how I might be asked to work some extra hours. For a moment, he seemed to have stopped breathing and he did not lift his head up from his plate. With the hope of appeasing him, I rattled on. “Veer, you don’t need to worry about anything. I have it all figured out. I have arranged with Norma, the woman who lives a few houses down, to babysit while I am away. And I will always be back in time to make dinner.” He still did not stir. I also wanted to tell him about William, Samantha, and all the other exciting things that were happening at work, but thought I would save it for another day, when he felt like my friend again. I was waiting anxiously for the day when I could share my life with him again. For now, it seemed we both were living in different worlds.
26.
THE PAST MONTHS HAD BEEN nothing but a countdown for today, the day of the fashion show. The auditorium was booming with amazing acoustics, fashion critics had been pampered and ushered to their centre seats, and the rest of the spaces were filled with event managers, casting directors, and staff from stores and boutiques across the province. The front rows were reserved for international guests and the press.
As I sat backstage in the shadows of the wings, I was captivated with the fashion models. Their tall immaculate lines, slender grace and seductive gait, their perfectly matched hair-dos and makeup. The angled lighting further accentuated each dimension of their flawless figures.
William was sitting in front, taking notes and talking into Samantha’s ear, making her chuckle repeatedly. I enjoyed looking at William and Samantha. They made me curious. They sparked my imagination about a world that was free and easy, a restricted world in which I felt I was always trespassing.
I was thrilled to have gotten one of the best jobs a stage-shy girl in a fashion show can ask for: to assist one of the models, Rosita.
Each of the staff members had been given one free ticket to invite a friend or family member. I, of course, had invited Veer. He had not refused, he had not shouted, he had just replied with his silence. So I had left the ticket near his wallet that afternoon before walking out the door.
The music started and the curtains lifted. After a few announcements in English and French, the show began with loud applause.
I was in the dressing room helping Rosita with last-minute touches. She was to walk in about twenty minutes. She was displaying the “Northern
Weave”—the celebrated showstopper. But just as I unstrapped her bolero, she flinched.
“I need to go to the washroom. I won’t be long…” she said and bolted for the door.
Five minutes led to ten, and Rosita had not come out. I started fidgeting. I walked to the washroom and knocked gently on her door. I heard sniffles. “Rosita … are you okay?”
“No,” came the flat answer.
“What is the matter, Rosita?”
“I can’t tell you. Can you call someone? Please…?”
I panicked and ran into the adjoining dark corridor, which led to a brightly-lit room at the other end. Inside, Lucy was talking to William, but she stopped as soon as she saw the look on my face. They both ran back to knock on Rosita’s washroom door. The door opened slightly and Lucy was let in, leaving me waiting uneasily with William. When Lucy came out, her face was beetroot red with worry.
“I am afraid that Rosita is sick … some kind of a stomach bug. She will not be able to walk tonight.”
“What?” William exclaimed. “She’s supposed to model the best outfit in the show!”
“I know!” Lucy shouted and then said, “Well, do we have any backups?”
“No.”
William was pacing with one hand over his forehead, thinking.
“What are we to do Bill?” Lucy asked, the worry in her voice palpable.
“Don’t worry, Lucy, I will figure something out,” William replied, still pacing.
As I sank quietly on the corner couch watching William, I realized then that in the midst of this he was consoling Lucy and trying to find a solution. The power of those two words, “Don’t worry,” sank in. They built a bridge between all who were facing this crisis. I had not heard those words from Veer ever since we had arrived, although we both shared the same circumstance of trying to settle in a new world. I realized it didn’t have to be this way. Why couldn’t we share our pain and our dilemmas? Why was something so simple so difficult to do? When I turned to look at William, he had already come up with a solution.