Lethal Secrets

by Anju Gattani

  The room’s telephone rang. She stared at the bedside table, where the phone sat beside a digital clock and lamp. Who was calling at eight o’clock? Laundry? Room service? She hadn’t ordered anything. She reached for the receiver and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Dhanraj?” a male voice asked.

  “Yes?”

  “There’s a gentleman here to see you.”

  “Who?”

  “He says he has your wallet.”

  Jatinder Singh! Sheetal exhaled in relief. “I’m coming.” She replaced the handset in the cradle, took the elevator down to the lobby, and rushed toward the young man behind the reception desk. “Excuse me. I got a call just now about someone here to return my wallet?”

  The receptionist pointed over her shoulder.

  Sheetal turned and the breath caught in her throat. “Arvind.”

  “You left this.” He handed the wallet over. “I figured you couldn’t leave without it.”

  Sheetal took the leather wallet, pressed it between her palms, and slumped against a sofa’s headrest for support. “Thank you. I turned my suitcase, clothes, and the whole room upside down looking for it.”

  “I’m not surprised. And since I was on my way here, I thought I’d give you something I picked up the other day.” He held out a cardboard box that fit in the palms of both hands.

  Sheetal accepted the box, pulled open the top flap, and gasped at the glass jewelry box the toothless old woman had tried to sell her. “It’s beautiful!”

  “The lady told me you liked it. It’s nothing much, but something, perhaps, to remember your trip here.”

  Feeling the press of the receptionist’s stare, Sheetal led Arvind to a corner seating arrangement on the far left of the lobby, held the jewelry box up to the crystal chandelier, and marveled at the pink, green, and orange triangles of light that formed on the white wall behind Arvind.

  “Arrey, can you believe she charged me twenty-five? I told her I was buying it for the ‘gori gori memsahib.’ She had quoted twenty rupees, but the old croon refused to back down. Anyway, it’s worth every rupee as long as you like it.”

  “I love it.”

  “Well, I guess I should get going. You leave tomorrow, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, then. Have a safe trip, and take care.” He started to turn away.

  “Wait.”

  He stopped.

  She melted in the liquid brown of his eyes, desperate for him to stay. “Yash.”

  “What about Yash?”

  “Tell him I’ll be there after school to pick him up tomorrow.”

  “Fine.” He nodded. “Any other message for a messenger at your service?”

  She pressed the wallet to her chest and stroked her thumb over the leather, releasing some of the musk fragrance that clung to it. “No.”

  Sheetal returned to her room, changed into a lace-frilled, white satin nighty, switched off the lights, and pressed the wallet between both palms as she lay in bed. Sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned, visualizing Arvind’s hair—how the strands still cascaded in black waves. She thought of the warm glow of his coppery skin in the lobby light, the silk of his palm against her hand, and closed her eyes.

  A knock sounded and Sheetal sat up. Another knock came. “Who is it?” she called.

  “Arvind.”

  Her heart raced. “What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk.”

  She glanced at the clock. Ten. What could Arvind possibly want to discuss at this hour? “I—”

  “I understand it’s late but—”

  “How did you know my room number?”

  “Yash told me.”

  Sheetal swung her feet over the mattress edge and switched on the table lamp. “I can’t let you in.”

  “We need to talk, Sheetal.”

  She padded down the five feet long, narrow passageway, slid the chain latch in place, cracked open the door, and peered through the inch-wide slit. Their eyes locked and she ran a hand down her hip. Seven thin diamond bangles tinkled along her wrist. “Just give me a minute.” She closed the door, donned a matching silk gown, and tied the ribbon around her waist. She would talk to him outside in the corridor, certainly not in the privacy of the room. She unlocked the door, swung it open, and stepped onto the velvety maroon carpet just as a lift door on the far right of the hall glided open.

  Sheetal grabbed Arvind’s jacket sleeve, pulled him into the room, and locked the door.

  The scent of musk filled the narrow space. She released him.

  “This isn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t be here.” He turned around to leave.

  Sheetal grabbed his arm. “You’re obviously here for something important.”

  “I...I had to see you one last time.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Musk. Musk everywhere. “And here you are with me.”

  He leaned close and the soft hairs of his French beard brushed her cheek. “And you with me.” His soft, mocha lips pressed her cheek.

  She raised her head, glided her lips across his jaw, and the fuzz of his beard pricked her ever so gently. She took a deep breath, forced herself away, and looked into his eyes.

  He slid an arm around her waist and she pressed closer, ran her fingers up the blue-and-white-checkered shirt, forced the jacket off his shoulders, and let the garment strike the floor with a thud as bangles tinkled down her wrists.

  “Sheetal—”

  “Shhhh.” She slid seven white buttons out of their checkered holes, parted the ocean of cotton fabric, and rolled the shirt off his shoulders. His taut copper contours gleamed in the soft yellow light, and he tilted his head down to meet her lips. Sheetal joined both hands behind his neck, pulled him closer, and the scent of mocha rushed through her veins.

  “We shouldn’t.”

  His manhood pulsed through the thin film of her nighty and a wetness surged between the vee of her legs. She ran her fingers along the gentle swell of his chest, so firm and comforting.

  “Sheetal.”

  “Shhh.” She raised a finger to his lips. Hot. She shivered. She brushed her lips across his.

  He stiffened and pressed his hands by his side.

  “What’s wrong? Aren’t you—? Don’t you...?” She let a finger trail down his chest.

  “I can’t.”

  “I belong to you. I always did.” She kissed him long and hard, swallowed, and a whirlpool of sadness spiraled into the empty karva of her soul.

  He swelled, throbbed, pulsed as he hardened against her. His lips coaxed hers apart with gentle licks, then ever so slowly, his finger trailed down to her waist and the satin belt unraveled. He pulled away. “We don’t have to do this.”

  She caught his hand and returned it to her waist.

  He ran his fingers through her hair, down her neck, and gently brushed aside the spaghetti straps of her nighty. The satin slipped off her shoulders and the nighty pooled around her feet. He trailed a finger along the curve of her breast and her nipples hardened. Then he removed his belt, trousers, and underwear, scooped her into his arms, and laid her on the bed.

  He eased on top and pressed kisses on her eyes, cheeks, and lips.

  She rubbed against him and a vortex of heat spiraled. Oh, how she yearned to be loved by this man. She pulled him closer, tighter, harder.

  Arvind pulled away, his attention fixed on a center point between her eyebrows.

  She touched her forehead and peeled off the bindi.

  “You’re married, Sheetal. This is so wrong.”

  Why did “wrong” feel so much better than “right”?

  His earthy musk filled her with a euphoria she had never known. She kissed his chest while he stroked her thighs. “Take me.”

  He kissed her long and hard, then entered and filled her.

  She dug her fingers into his arms with a determination never to let go.

  Sheetal ran a hand along the mattress and willed her eye
s open. On her right, the jewelry box crowned an empty pillow. She rolled and something struck the mattress. She curled her fingers around the wallet, pressed it to her cheek, and inhaled the scent of musk.

  Here one minute and gone the next, like a dream.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Return

  Rakesh pressed the phone to his ear and listened to a series of unanswered rings. He ended the call and glanced at his watch. Nine-thirty a.m. Last night, he’d called Sheetal twice to let her know he had taken her advice about the doctor and would start taking better care of his health.

  He paced the office and then called again.

  “Hello? Rakesh? Is that you? I was going to call this morning but I overslept.”

  He pressed the phone closer to his ear. Something didn’t feel right. She sounded too casual. Too carefree. “I called last night. Where the hell were you?”

  “Here. In the room. Where else would I be?”

  Attitude? “So, why didn’t you pick up the phone?”

  “I was asleep.”

  At ten? “You never sleep early.”

  “I-I was tired from all the packing. You won’t believe what happened yesterday. Yash and I....”

  She ranted on about some afternoon snowstorm and how she and Yash took cover in a dingy restaurant. Then some bullshit about freezing weather and the greedy school principal. Going on and on.

  “How is Yash?”

  “Fine. He’s grown. A little taller. Smarter. Chatty. I didn’t realize how much I missed him.”

  “We wouldn’t miss him if he was home.” First Pushpa. Now Sheetal. Both out to keep father away from son. “I saw Dr. Kishore yesterday.”

  “What did he say?”

  “If you were here and not in Mansali, you would know.”

  “I told you to see him last week when I was there. You didn’t listen. And now when I’m away you go on your own and conveniently blame me?”

  “If you were here, I wouldn’t be alone.”

  “Rakesh, you knew I was going away for the week. You gave me the tickets yourself and didn’t even book a room for me. I tried calling you several times but you didn’t pick up the phone or bother to call back.”

  “I told Reshma to.”

  “You leave my hotel reservations to a member of staff? Couldn’t you do this one thing yourself?”

  “Reshma handles all my travel arrangements. Besides, I was tied up with work.”

  “I’m not your client. I’m your wife. I go out of my way to do everything for you and you don’t even have time to....”

  She was not going to let this go.

  “Do you know how much trouble I had at check-in? They—”

  “I’m getting a series of tests done this morning. More blood work and CT scans.”

  A split second of silence hung between them. “Is it serious?”

  “We’ll talk later. You leave today.”

  “I know.”

  “You sound.... Never mind.”

  “I missed you.”

  His attention drifted to the Raigun skyline.

  “Oh, and I forgot to tell you. Yash got a lead role in this year’s spring concert. He’s a compeer and—”

  “Give me a call when you’re thirty minutes from the station. I’ll be there to pick you up.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Snake Bite

  Sheetal, Rakesh, and Yash clustered about the Snakes and Ladders boardgame set up on the carpeted floor of Yash’s bedroom.

  Rakesh lay on his right side, body parallel to the board’s black-and-white tiles, propped on an elbow with his cheek cupped in his hand while the other hand rested along his thigh. He cracked jokes and laughed every time he moved his counter down one of the colorful snakes, carefree and at ease in a way Sheetal hadn’t seen in a long time.

  She rolled a die, moved her counter two spaces, and waved toward Yash, who sat cross-legged with his back to the bed. He scooped up the die and rolled it on the board. “Six!” he squealed. “Extra turn for me!”

  Although the rules did not give a player an extra turn for rolling a six, she and Rakesh allowed Yash the bonus in the hope that he’d win.

  While Yash moved his yellow counter, Sheetal’s attention wandered to clusters of miniature Thomas the Trains printed on the light blue duvet behind him. His sports-car-shaped bed, custom designed and imported from the U.S., and curtains bearing smiley-faced trains, both chosen before Yash transitioned from the nursery, seemed like purchases they’d made just yesterday.

  Yash’s second roll of the red cube bounced and glided across the board and stopped at the tip of Rakesh’s finger. “Six again!” Yash slid his counter across six tiles. “May I have the die, please, Dad?” Yash straightened his back against the bed and waited.

  “Of course, you may.” Rakesh passed the die.

  May? Please? Sheetal recalled when Yash was six and how he grabbed the die on every turn. Last summer, she noticed how he tucked a napkin into the neckline of his shirt and waited until he finished chewing before taking the next mouthful. Six months later, here he was, using a grown-up voice and waiting politely for his turn.

  Yet, this morning, when she discovered him in Rakesh’s closet secretly trying on Rakesh’s leather Ballys, her heart knotted. She asked what he was doing and Yash raised his foot with the shoe dangling on the tips of his toes. Despite the six-inch gap between his heel and the shoe’s back curve, he squealed, “Look, Mum! I’m almost like Dad!” Her chest tightened. Yash didn’t need to fill Rakesh’s shoes.

  Yash rolled the die, moved his counter four spaces, and handed the die to Rakesh.

  Rakesh blew air into the crevice between thumb and index finger. “Five. Come on, five.” He threw the die.

  The die knocked Yash’s toe and stopped. “No, two!” Yash moved Rakesh’s counter to ninety-seven, then all the way down the snake’s body to thirty-five. “Now, you’re last. I’m first.”

  “Oh no,” Rakesh feigned disappointment.

  “My turn.” Yash waited for Rakesh to hand the die over and then rolled it on the board.

  “Ah ha!” Rakesh sat up. “Three, and down you go.”

  Yash slid the yellow counter down a green snake, then pressed both elbows onto his knees and dropped his chin on his palms. “Not fair. Now I’m last.”

  “That’s life. You can’t always be number one. Sometimes life is fair, sometimes it isn’t.”

  “But I want to win,” Yash whined.

  “Don’t we all? Anyway, it’s just a game. One minute you’re up a ladder, next minute, down a snake. You’ll be up again soon. Your turn.” He rolled the die toward Sheetal.

  Sheetal scooped the die and tossed it onto the board. Diamond bangles tinkled down her wrist, and she remembered the jacket sliding off Arvind’s shoulders. “Five.” She moved her counter.

  “Sheetal—”

  “Shhhh.” She wove the counter in and out of the tiles’ borders, remembering the glide of seven buttons through the buttonholes of Arvind’s checkered shirt. “We shouldn’t.”

  “Shouldn’t what, Sheetal?” he sounded annoyed.

  “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “Seven, Sheetal?”

  She blinked and the board crystallized into view. She’d crossed seven tiles. “Oh, I didn’t realize.” She pulled the counter back a space.

  “You rolled a five. Look.” He pointed to the five on the die. “How can you miss that?”

  “Like how you forgot my hotel reservation? Besides, didn’t you say it’s just a game?” she snapped.

  “Little slips happen. It’s not like you spent the night on the streets because you didn’t get a room. You missed two turns before and didn’t notice. If you’re not interested, you don’t have to play.” Rakesh rolled the die, whacked Sheetal’s counter by accident and threw it several squares back. He charged his counter past Sheetal’s and ascended a ladder.

  Yash followed Rakesh’s lead, not bothering to give her a turn. They left her at the bottom, alone.


  ***

  A string of advertisements blared on the TV as Yash slept on the sofa with his head on Sheetal’s lap and his stockinged feet pointed toward Rakesh, who sat three cushions away. Sheetal ran her fingers through Yash’s hair as the TV cast shadows on the half-empty bottle of Blue Label to Rakesh’s left and a cigar burning on an ashtray.

  “So, how did the appointment go with Dr. Kishore?”

  Rakesh raised the bottle of scotch to his lips and drained the liquid. “My problem. I deal with it.”

  “It’s not just your problem.”

  “It is.”

  “I can help.”

  “How?”

  “Tell me what the doctor said.”

  “Fuck off alcohol. Can you help? No. Happy?”

  Sheetal winced. “At least mind your language when Yash is here.”

  His attention remained fixed on the TV screen.

  “When will we know the results of your blood work and MRI scan?” She watched smoke rise from the burning cigar. “Can you put that out? The smoke is harmful.”

  “I was minding my own business when you two decided to join me. I didn’t ask you to. Besides, Yash is sleeping. He doesn’t know.”

  “He’s breathing the same air.”

  “He can’t see.”

  Sheetal shifted attention to the images on the TV. “He doesn’t need to know. The secondary smoke will affect him.”

  “Don’t know what your problem is. Every time....”

  Sheetal closed her eyes, placed a palm on Yash’s ear, and pressed her head into the sofa’s backrest. The cushion reminded her of the warmth and comfort of Arvind’s embrace.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do? Just give it up? Who do you think you are? And what fucking....”

  You share a life when you have someone to live for. To live with, Arvind’s voice melted her heart. She cracked open her eyelids. Shadows flickered across the ceiling. I did. She left me. She tightened the pallu around her shoulders. So warm. So silky. Like Arvind’s pashmina embrace.