by Anubha Mehta
“We will make an announcement and place Rosita’s walk at the end of the show. I will have Nicole pulled out of the line up to replace Rosita. Altering the outfit to her size won’t take long for Louis as they are almost the same size, and then Jon will have forty-five minutes to coach her. He had said this without stopping to breathe. I admired William’s ingenuity. It had taken him less than ten minutes to come out on top.
“Okay, William, I trust your judgement. Let’s do it!” I could feel how emotionally exhausted and desperate Lucy was.
I was not sure if my services were needed anymore since Rosita was no longer in the line up. I picked up my bag and started looking for a paper to write an exit note. It was time for me to return home and face my crisis there.
A petite, somewhat effeminate man, with a Salvador Dali moustache, entered the room. He carried a frothing Dom Perignon Champagne, five crystal glasses on a tray.
“Hey, Jon!” William waved to him.
I didn’t know where Lucy had disappeared to, so I turned to face William. “I don’t suppose I am needed now, so I would like to go.”
William walked towards me and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Of course, you are needed, Maya.” His tone was so warm.
I could smell his cologne. “But Rosita is no longer in the line-up,” I stuttered.
“Yes, but I need you … I mean, I need you for Nicole.”
“Of course,” I nodded,
Jon offered me a glass of champagne. “Take a sip. This is to calm us all.” Jon wore black-and-white striped pants that deliberately wedged every curve of his shapely legs and a crimson beret. His smile was genial and kind, and I gladly accepted the glass he had handed me.
Just then Nicole had walked in. She was a little frazzled. Jon didn’t waste any time. He chuckled in a high pitch and snapped the tips of his fingers as he walked over to her. “Chop, chop. We don’t have all day. Imagine you are a trapeze artist walking on a synthetic string some twenty feet above the ground. Now imagine you have a glass of water on your head. And now you are walking that line…”
The next fifteen minutes flew by. Jon and I helped Nicole into her outfit that fit her like a second skin. William and I walked her to the stage wings.
“Nicole, anytime now the emcee will announce your piece. That is your cue. Think of yourself walking into the night with no one watching you, as though you are going for a swim in a deserted lake with only your bathing suit on.”
I wondered if I would ever be able to walk through life with no one watching and living in any way that I wanted to live? Like William did. I looked up to see William smiling. He was obviously happy with his last-minute solution. With one hand in his trouser pocket, he extended his other over my shoulder. I did not pull away. “Well, Maya? Are you having fun?”
I looked back at him and smiled. Quite unexpectedly, I had had fun tonight.
There was a resounding applause that filled the auditorium, and then the curtain fell. An army of models were already lined up, ready to make their closing curtain call. William and Nicole joined the back of the line, and, then they all walked on to the runway to take a bow.
It was over. The models were rushing to get some cocktails and go to the press shoots in the lounge, but I just wanted to get out of there. I kept thinking about Diya. I quickly changed back into my cardigan and slacks and picked up my handbag to head out. As I was leaving my dressing room, I heard a familiar voice call my name.
It was a voice that I had not expected to hear this evening.
Veer! He was standing there in his loafers and faded jeans, a blue-and-white checked shirt tucked neatly into his pants. I ran into his arms. But I did not feel his arms wrapping around me. I felt cold. Then I looked up to see his face. His brows were drawn, the nerve on his forehead throbbed. “So this is what you do here? This is your new job?” he spat out. I was taken aback by his anger.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t pretend, Maya, I saw you standing there in the dark with that man.”
“So?”
“So, Maya? He had his arms around you!”
“No, it is not what it seems…” I tried in vain to explain.
He walked out before I could finish. I ran after him, fury surging inside me. He was already in the car. I managed to climb in before he pulled away from the street. He drove straight to our house and we did not exhange a word the entire way.
We entered a dark house. Diya was asleep. I paid Norma, the babysitter, and went to kiss Diya’s forehead. As I was coming out of her room, the phone rang. Who could be calling this late at night?
“Hello?” There was a pause.
Then a familiar, displeased voice said, “Hello.”
“Hello, Mom! How are you?” I said to Veer’s mother.
“I am okay. Is Veer there?”
“Yes, he is. One moment, please.” I ran to Veer and handed over the receiver. “It’s your mother!”
He took the receiver and walked away from me. I finished eating my sandwich in the kitchen and took one to the living room for Veer. He was cupping the speaker with his palm and whispering into it. I caught a fleeting line, “… And then I saw her backstage in the dark with a tall, blond man. She is one of them now.”
What was Veer doing? Was he talking about me to his mother? Is that what her phone call was all about?
Veer had turned me into an outcast. I had not listened to him; I had not allowed myself to be trapped in this house day in and day out. He did not care if I did not have any friends or family in this new country; he did not care how I was to survive within these walls, as long as I did not go outside them. I had no right to jump at the opportunities life was presenting to me. I had adapted more quickly to this new land than I should have, than he had. And now I was to be punished.
I felt dizzy. My head started throbbing. My eyes burnt from falling tears, and my whole body ached from exhaustion. I felt something new and different, something that had not visited me before. It was a feeling of betrayal. I was being betrayed by Veer, not for another woman, but for the woman I had been in the past.
I got up and threw Veer’s sandwich in the garbage. As I entered the kitchen, I heard Veer call out, “Where is my sandwich?”
“I threw it out,” I replied, wiping my tears.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t like my sandwiches.” Another tear fell.
“I’m hungry.”
“I don’t care, Veer.”
It came out harsher than I wanted it to. I followed him to the living room couch. He collapsed on to it. In the shadow of the lamp, his crouched figure looked even bigger than his already large physique. Why did I see Veer as a little boy trapped in a big body who needed help to escape the darkness inside him? Why was I cursed with this empathy for Veer when the easier thing to do was walk away?
I forgot my hurt and anger. I ran toward him without thinking. I put my hands in his. His palms were damp, and I realized then that maybe he had also been crying. Or maybe they were my tears on his hands. I could not tell them apart.
“Veer, we both are just trying to keep our heads up in this new country. We are in a different world now. But I don’t want to live in a different world with you while under the same roof. I know we have not found our way yet, but we will soon. Whether that way leads us deeper into Canada or back to India only time will tell.”
With that, I left him to go up to our room, which faced the lake. A harsh screeching wind thrashed our rickety shutters open. I went to close them and glanced out at the garden. The stone angel was looking down on earth as rain slashed down in sheets over his eyes, becoming tears. I latched the window tightly and lay down on a cold pillow. I did not know what tomorrow held. But I did know that tomorrow I would be applying for a new job.
27.
“VEER, I HAVE DECIDED to leave my job.” He lif
ted his head from the newspaper and stopped chewing his breakfast.
“Oh, really?” I expected this sarcastic reaction.
“Yes, really.”
“What will you do then? Won’t staying at home stifle you?” I hated his sarcasm.
“I was hoping that I could help you out in the office. That way I can be flexible with my day as well.” He dropped his head back into the folds of the newpaper and did not say anything.
“Veer?”
“No, Maya. That is not possible.”
“Well, why not?”
“Because I already have someone helping me.” That was an answer I had not expected.
“Who?”
“Her name is Suzy.” He picked up his bowl of cereal and left the kitchen.
I stared at the wall for some time. What had just happened? Did Veer say that I was not welcome in his life outside the house? And who was this Suzy? Livid, I followed him out to the deck. “Who is Suzy?”
“She is my secretary. Mummy referred her as a trustworthy person, the daughter of one of her friends.”
His mother. Of course she had. Visions of the oily Gautam flashed before my eyes, another trustworthy referral from the same source. I wanted to ask him why I could not come to help, with or without Suzy in his office. But instead I swallowed my pride and decided to go back to Lucy’s job.
When I arrived, Brenda excitedly took me to the back room and gave me a card with my name written on it. I opened it slowly, guessing who it might be from. It was dated and signed: To the tiniest pistol backstage. Thanks for deciding to stay on, William.
That afternoon after work, I decided to walk to pick up Diya from school. The cool air brushed against my cheeks and cleared my mind. I felt better. In spite of our differences, I had faith that Veer loved me and no one could come between us.
Diya had not yet returned from her school field trip to the eco-camp in High Park, so I waited in the school corridor, looking at the broad tree-lined street outside. The door opened, and a skinny, blonde woman in tight sweatpants and an equally tight T-shirt walked in. Her green eyes were kind, and she smiled at me. “Hello, I’m Jill. My daughter Bella is in the same class as your daughter.”
I wondered how she knew who my daughter was. Then I realized that Diya was probably the only brown girl in her class.
“Hello, I am Maya.” We shook hands. She took a seat next to me but did not gaze out of the window.
“So where do you live, Maya?”
“Oh, just a few blocks away on Frazer Street.”
“That is a beautiful street. Have you lived there long?”
“A few years. We came from New Delhi … you know … the capital of India.” Her eyes lit up with interest.
“Well then, how do you like Canada?”
“I am still getting used to it. It is a lonely life.”
“No, of course, you wouldn’t like it here. In the city, I mean. If you really want to get to know Canada, then you need to go to the countryside.” I listened intently as she continued. “My mother lives on a fifty-six-acre farm northeast of here, just a four-hour drive. We are going there for Easter. Why don’t you join us?”
I found this very strange. I did not even know this woman, and she was already inviting us to join her for Easter.
Just then the school bus pulled into the driveway, which gave me an excuse not to answer her question. Diya jumped out, red-faced and sulky. I knew something was the matter instantly. I gathered her quickly and started for home. Once on the sidewalk, I heard someone beep from behind. It was Jill.
She opened her car door and said, “Come on, pop in! I will drop you.” Before I could stop her, Diya instantly slipped into the back seat next to Bella.
“Well, thank you, this is kind of you.” I got in the car and closed the door. The car jerked and then screeched forward.
“Before dropping you, I just have to make a quick stop home to pick up my grocery list. I forgot it on my fridge door.” At once I regretted getting into the car with her.
Jill’s house was large, in a spacious green neighbourhood. “Would you like to come in?”
“No, I am sorry, we have to get going….”
“Okay, then, no problem.”
The children were already running toward the open side door, which lead to what looked like a large backyard. For the sake of their smiling faces, I dragged myself inside. Jill had a pot of tea going by the time I reached her kitchen.
“No, please don’t bother with tea. I really have to be going.” I went to call Diya. She was climbing a tree fort and then diving down into the sand box. “Come on, Diya. We have to go now!”
“Noooo, just five minutes, Mama!” she pleaded.
Jill was standing behind me with two mugs of steaming black tea. I gave in and thanked her. We sat on her deck under the chirping evening birds.
“So what do you do for a living?” she asked as we settled down. I had long ago understood that in this country, one’s job defined their identity.
“I work part-time in a fashion boutique in the mall
“Oh, that must be so exciting. More exciting than massaging clients the whole day.”
“Massaging?”
“I am a massage therapist, and my husband works on the Ford Motor’s assembly line. We are blessed for his steady factory job and salary. They have good worker compensation you know.”
What an equalizing country, I thought. Even blue-collar workers lived in luxury. We chatted about school and the children. And then she wanted to know about me, about us, our life in India. It was such an unexpected and pleasant evening.
Before dropping us home, Jill mentioned her mother’s farm again. “Well, please think about it,” she said. “Maybe you all can drive down with us some time?’
“Yes, Jill, thank you, I shall think about it.”
Finally, I was back to the only place I wanted to be: my home.
***
We returned to a dark and cold house. Veer had not returned yet. But I no longer expected him to return so soon. He had expanded his business since we had arrived, and that meant long work hours. Still, my heart hoped and longed to spend some time with him after our fight that morning.
Diya switched on every lamp in the house on the way to her room. I heated some butternut squash soup, sweet potatoes, and roast duck, and laid out three mats, one candle, and the wine decanter on the table. I tossed Diya’s favourite Caesar salad with extra croutons and parmesan. And then we waited.
At eight, when there was still no sign of Veer, Diya emerged from her room. “Mama, I’m hungry.”
“Yes, why don’t you eat. You have a long day tomorrow.”
“Won’t you eat, Mama?”
“No, I will wait for Papa.”
With that, Diya devoured her dinner and excused herself from the table. Within an hour, she was asleep. I tucked her in with an extra blanket and closed her window to keep the room warm. Then I settled on the settee in the living room in front of the TV. The phone rang, and I jumped. It had to be Veer, so I ran to pick it up.
“Maya!” Her sweet voice filled the room and beyond. It was Ma from India. “We miss you so much. Our house is so quiet now.” I could taste the salt from my tears on my lips.
“I miss you too, Ma.”
“How is our little granddaughter?”
“Diya is growing up fast. It is a school night so she is sound asleep. Although she is not even in second grade yet, Diya might be placed in a special music program in elementary school. ”
“Send us lots of pictures, Maya. And how is Veer? Papa and I would like to say hello to him as well.”
“Oh, Veer is still at work,” I said. “He has to work long days because of the expanding business.”
She cut me short. “What’s wrong, Maya?” Ma could always tell when things were no
t right.
“Nothing’s wrong, Ma. All is well,” I lied.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, Ma.”
“Maya, we called to tell you that our renovations went well and now we have decided to move to our cottage in Kasauli permanently. The commute to the hills each time has become very strenuous, and we think it is best that we stay in one place now.
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Come to visit us soon with Veer and Diya. It is not the same without you. ”
“Yes, Ma. I will come soon. How is Anita?”
“She and Ajay have moved to Darjeeling—I think the hills of Mim tea estate—for their next posting.”
Everyone I loved in India seemed to be happy and at peace. I could not help but wonder how our life would have been if we had not left. It was almost midnight now. I dragged a blanket from our bedroom and spread it over my legs. I didn’t remember when I fell asleep, but I was woken by the sound of our front yard gate opening with its usual squeal.
I ran to the French window and peered through the curtain. A car had stopped outside our gate. It was not Veer’s car, but it was Veer’s silhouette that got out of it. Whose car was it? My question was answered the next minute. A softer outline, that of a woman, came out from the driver’s side. She moved toward Veer, who was gripping onto the car door for support. She placed a shoulder under his arm, and then they started walking to the door.
Before they could reach the doorbell, I flung open the door. I switched on the porch light to get a better look at the woman with my husband. She was a tall and well-built Indian woman with wiry shoulder-length hair and a very large chest. She had a wide red-lipsticked mouth and large brown eyes under short heavily mascaraed lashes and pencil-thin eyebrows. Her entire appearance was that of a very measured and planned person.
She was still propping Veer up, who seemed to be swaying horizontally.
I stepped forward and said, “Thank you for bringing him home. I will take it from here.” She reluctantly handed him over, and we hobbled inside. He was reeking of alcohol.