by David Kersey
“Hello, Joshua, it’s Sheryl Smalley, from WKSO in Somerset. Mercy, what in the world is in this NIL stuff? Both Jermaine and I have been going non-stop since Saturday.”
“Glad to hear it. I thought you might get some benefit from it.”
“Are you kidding? People around the station are asking what has got into us, so we showed them. Now they are wanting some. But that is not why I’m calling. Do you have a moment?”
“Shoot.”
“My station manager, Eva Mercer, would like to conduct an interview with you. Do you think you could come to the station for that? It’s a thirty minute segment, and she has already done some preliminary background, like following up with Mel Kenyon and some of the others that emailed us.”
“Sheryl, I appreciate the offer, but right now I am up to my neck making more NIL. I guess you know the flu has hit this area, as well as many others. I can’t get away right now.”
“Would it be an imposition if we did the filming in your barn? Do you still have a houseful, check that, barn full of guests?”
“When would this happen? And no, my guests are gone.” He wasn’t about to tell her the two Mehra women were still here.
“Today. That little coffee area you have would be a perfect setting, better than what we have here actually. We could be there, oh, let’s say by three o’clock. It would take a half hour to set up, another few minutes to prep you with the line of conversation, then a half hour of shooting. The reason she asked me to rush this is because of the flu. We want to run our show tonight in opposition to 20-20’s coverage of the flu outbreak. What do you think?”
“I suppose it will be alright.”
“Perfect. We will see you at three.”
+ + + + +
“Autry, how is it going as far as getting testimonial feedback? Have your received any yet?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah, two have come in. The Peterson woman wrote in, and so did the Tompkins lady. Good stuff, too. I guess Janie is tellin’ ‘em at the store to email me. Hasn’t been that long ago I asked her to do it.”
“Could you forward those two to the email address of the WKSO station? Do you have that?”
“I don’t think so, Joshua.”
Joshua read the address to Autry. “The station manager and crew are coming down this way later on today to do an interview that supposedly will be aired tonight? I thought the testimonials that you have might be useful to them.”
“Well, these two sure wouldn’t hurt none. They’s both right positive. But listen Joshua, you are gonna skin me alive. I let Tracy go.”
“I thought you might. I know about the State Troopers hunting for her from Jack Meadors. Patricia Reid also told me the National Security Agency has their hands in it too. Where is Tracy now?”
“I dumped her off at the Tennessee state line. Some trucker picked her up an’ that’s all I know. Hey, speakin’ of Patricia Reid, I guess she went to bat for ya. The Park’s people are bringin’ the gate down there an’ even gonna set it up. She called me a few minutes ago an’ told me that. Took her all of ten seconds, an’ bam, she was gone. She sure does fly high, don’t she? She called me ‘stead of you cause she told me to git Tracy outta here. Told her I already done so. Then she told me to tell you about the gate, then she hung up.”
“Terrific, about the gate. When? Did she tell you that?”
“No, she didn’t. Hey, it’s the government. I wouldn’t count on it right away. So you say you might be on TV tonight, huh? Dang. Hey, ‘nother thing you be needin’ to know. I locked Tracy up because she stole some perfume from Martin’s. I got Gizelle in on that, so she and Janie are both cool. But you need to be squarin’ that with Namanda, cause she’s the one that turned her in. You follow me?”
“Glad you told me that. Do you think you are going to get in some trouble?”
“Who knows? I think I got my bases covered, I just don’t know, Joshua. What did you do with the Mehras, anyways?”
“Working a plan. It might work, it might not. That’s all I’m going to say. The less people know, the less culpable they are. I hope you understand I’m trying to protect you and others.”
“I git it. Me knowin’ wouldn’t help matters no how. Looks like another email is comin’ in. I’ll talk with ya later on, after you’re the big movie star. And I’ll send these emails out now.”
+ + + + +
Joshua had expected both Shreya and Namanda to display a sullenness due to Amit embarking, alone, on his daring mission. Quite to the contrary, Shreya, to Joshua’s delight, shed the demure, wallflower personae and burst into a jovial, pert, chatterbox. As the three sat in the lounge, Shreya spoke incessantly, and many of her diatribes caused both she and Namanda to burst into laughter.
Joshua noticed that both had the telltale shine on their faces of the whitening cream. They giggled, and acted like sisters reunited after a long-running privation. Joshua surmised that their raucousness was a result of the unshackling of the repressing taboos so prevalent in Indian custom. Interestingly, they were acting like Americans, only happier, he thought. Then it dawned on him. The two cheery females had been in the cottage for more than an hour. They had found the peyote, he deduced.
Shreya spoke of many of the Indian mores that were so divergent from Western culture. She spoke of the Indian interpretation of sex. Nudity is not sex. Gyrations of the body, pelvic thrusts, or any sexual innuendo is not considered taboo. Newspapers in India display nudity without a kernel of shame. However, the portrayals cannot be displayed, or performed, in mixed company. That is punishable by law.
She spoke of the role of women, the poor people, the Christians, in the highly structuralized Indian caste system. Over the ages, strong walls of distrust, and suspicion of one another had been built. An outcome was that people sought to take advantage of one another whenever a situation presented itself. Shreya mentioned that Tracy’s plot to extort the establishment is a regular occurrence in India. Selling information is as common as rain in the summer. ‘Don’t tell; sell’, is a graphic understood by most. She constructed an example by telling the story of a haberdashery that was pawning off cheap imitations as the real, authentic merchandise. If a person were to come into that knowledge, he or she would seek to sell the information to the proper authorities.
Such was the garrulous, rat-a-tat gabbing that Shreya was so charmingly exhibiting. Then, she dropped a nuclear bombshell that rocked Joshua to the center of his being.
She placed her hand over his, and said, with a sparkle in her eye, “You may have my daughter!”
“Namanda screamed, “MAMMAJI! In horror she bolted from her chair and sought to run and hide. On second thought, she pirouetted, reseated herself, place her arms on the table, with her chin inches from the surface, awaiting his reply with bated breath.
Joshua nearly fell off his chair. He opened his eyes widely and pushed away from the table by leaning backwards while still seated. He studied Shreya for a moment, trying to ascertain the meaning of the word ‘have’. It became obvious she meant it in any and every conceivable way. He absolutely did not know how to respond.
Shreya partially rescued the situation. “But not until she reaches the age of eighteen years. If something should happen to me and Amit, you must promise to keep her pure until that age. Is it a deal?”
Though still stuck in speechlessness, Joshua stumbled into a reply. “I understand”, he said with repeated pauses, “that in your culture there are arranged marriages, and the youthful ages of brides in India is well known. That is uncustomary in this country. I will promise to you that I will never be abusive to your daughter, no matter her age. I am extremely embarrassed and would like to change the subject, but I will add this. I love her as a person, not as a lover. I hope you understand. I am nearing middle age; Namanda is barely a teen. She needs not to be robbed of her youth.”
Judging by the ensuing silence, his answer was either unsatisfactory or not understood. Both females were waiting for more, but when it became appar
ent he was done, they both resumed an upright seated position.
Joshua regretted having to answer in the way he did. Namanda’s life had been characterized by rejection upon rejection. He realized his answer was a boulder of dismissal that could permanently scar this precious young girl. He amended his approach.
“In time, when I think the right moment has arrived, I will consider asking her to be my wife, for she is a very beautiful human being, inside and out.” He waited for a clue as to how that distant proposal was received. He was relieved to see them both smile. Frivolity resumed.
When Joshua mentioned that he thought the both of them seemed to be paler in complexion, they looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
Namanda knew that he knew that she knew, like the unending succession of mirrored images, whenever their eyes met. Neither Joshua nor Namanda were haunted by the mutual intuition, for it was an unearthly circumstance that no two others could know, or share. He knew that she knew that he loved her, and vice versa. He knew she had the correct perception of reality, even if her mother didn’t.
Their eyes met. Namanda’s countenance took on that of Joshua’s. It was horrified shock.
“Quickly, you must hide, like I showed you, in the basement. Pull the empty boxes closed so that you are hidden from view. Quickly.”
Joshua cleared the table of the sake cups that still were half full. He straightened the chairs, looked around, then opened the front door slightly. As he suspected, the approaching visitor was the Kentucky State Police.