Chapter 1
Frenchtown, New Jersey, 1970
I
The scattered sunlight on my veranda crept down the walls and when a bunch of small children with cute little bags on their shoulders, passed on the throughway downstairs, I suddenly realized the time.
I have been standing here, on my balcony, for an hour and Shaun still hasn't arrived. Annoyed I enter the room. Books are scattered on the table - kept in the corner, some open, some closed. For a moment, I stare at them, then open the wardrobe with a purposeless look. I take a cursory glance at my scattered clothes. I could have at least ironed these out instead of wasting an hour waiting for him. But I don't seem like doing it and close the door.
'Why he made me wait if he didn't want to come? And it's not just today. He always does this. Always comes late by an hour or two. And I start waiting from the get go; cannot concentrate on any other work even if I try a million times. Why doesn't he understand that my time is too precious? I should be devoting all my time to studies - to complete my thesis.'
'But how can I explain this to him?'
Sitting at the table, I start taking the initiative to read again, but I do not feel like it. At the slightest noises of engine outside and movements of the screen on my door, my heartbeat increases and again and again my eyes run on the moving hands on the clock. It feels like this all the time and my nervousness turns into chagrin.
Just then, Mrs. Wilkerson's five-year-old little girl comes into the room hesitantly, "Miss, will you read me a story?"
"Not now, honey. Come back later!" I reply coldly. She runs away. Mrs. Wilkerson is one of a kind. For months, she won't ask about me or my life; but sometimes she sends the girl to eat my head. Still, Mr. Wilkerson asks for my wellbeing once a week, but he seems to be very clumsy. It's okay though; would I be able to date so freely if my landlords took a nosy interest in my life?
The same familiar footsteps. The same familiar sound. My door screen moves and so enters Shaun. I simply concentrate all my attention on the book. Shaun is standing at the door smiling, with a bunch of tuberose flowers in his hands. I look, but do not welcome with a smile. Laughing, he places the flowers on the table, presses my shoulders from behind and asks, "Am I going to have my head on my shoulder by the end of the evening?"
The whole room starts to smell like tuberoses.
"Why do I care to take your head off?" I say coldly. He turns me around by grabbing the chair, and with great caresses, raising my chin, says, "Tell me, what I could do? Was stuck among colleagues at work. I could not leave even after trying very hard. It didn't feel good to just leave and annoy everyone."
I wish to say, "You care about friends and colleagues, worry about annoying them, but not me!" But I can't say anything, looking at his face, I keep looking into his eyes -- brown, blinking eyes. The sweat drops on his porcelain forehead are shining. Had there been any other time, I would have wiped them with the hem of my sleeve, but not today. He is smiling softly, his eyes are apologizing, but what should I do?
Then as per his habit, sitting on the handle of the chair, he starts caressing my cheeks. I am angry with him about this. He always does this and then starts pampering me like a baby. He knows that my anger cannot stand before such pampering of his. Then he gets up and throws the old flowers from the vase, and plants new ones. How skillful is he at decorating flowers!
Once I had causally mentioned that I like tuberoses very much, so he made it a rule that every fourth day he brings a lot of tuberoses and puts them in my room. And now I too have formed such a habit that if there are no flowers in the room, I neither feel like reading nor sleeping. These flowers keep giving me the impression of Shaun's presence.
After a while we go for a walk. All of a sudden I am reminded of Ida's letter. The thing which I was so eager to hear since morning, how could I have forgotten it in this rage?
"Listen, Ida has written that I can get an interview call any day, I should be ready."
"Where from? New York?" asks Shaun, remembering something, and then suddenly jumps, "If you get that job, it would be so amazing, Dahila."
We are on the sidewalk. I don't like that he is happy about this. 'Does he want me to go to New York, away from him?'
Then I hear him say, "If you get this job, then I should also get myself transferred to the New York head office. My mind is so tired of the all the squeaking and politics here. How many times I thought that I should try to transfer, but your thoughts always tied me. If I move, there will be peace at work, but how deserted will my evenings be!"
The warmth in his voice touched me. All of a sudden I start to feel that the evening has become very pleasant. We go away and sit on our favorite table in our favorite cafe. Faint moonlight is scattered far and wide and the atmosphere here is not filled with smoke like in the city. He sits with his legs stretched out and tells me about his office fights for hours and then about going to New York and making plans to spend life together. I don't say anything, I just stare at him; keep looking at him.
When he falls silent, I say, "I am very scared about the interview. I don't know what they would ask! It's a first for me."
He laughs gleefully.
"You are a weird one! You are here, miles away from home, living alone, doing your post grad research, traveling around the world but still getting scared to face an interview. Why?" and gives a slight pat on my cheek. Then he says while explaining, "And look, nowadays these interviews are all just a pretense. Try to make an internal influence by people you know there."
"But New York is a completely new place for me. I don't even know anyone there except Ida. Now, if she knows anyone inside, that's another matter", I say helplessly.
"Aren't you forgetting someone else?" looking at my face, he asks, "Isn't Nathan also there?"
A momentary pause...
"Well, what do I have to do with him?" I answer immediately in awe. I don't know why, I had a feeling that he would ask me this very thing.
