My Last Love Story (19 page)

I sat on the deck for a long time, staring at the horizon.

I wondered at which point the ocean blended into the sky or night started masquerading as day or what happened when life bled into death.

Zayaan theorized such questions were the constructs of an active imagination, of man’s inability to remain undefined. Because some things had no definition, we made them precious and beautiful, abstract and blurred.

It’s the horizon. It’s twilight. This is a soul, and that’s heaven.

My mother had disliked whiskey, and my father would drink nothing else.

“One man’s Ohrmazd is another man’s Ahriman,” had been Daddy’s way of explaining the inexplicable.

The same was true of sex. The same act of penetration but without consent and love became rape.

Eventually, my thoughts stopped bouncing from horizon to sky to shore and went quiet. It was so quiet that I once again became aware that I lived at the edge of an ocean and far, far away from Surat. The neighbor’s dogs were out chasing the seagulls for their morning meal. The few people strolling along the beach were in jackets. The sun was out, and the air was blue.

I was dressed for hospital cold. I wore a long-sleeved T-shirt and a mohair sweater with my jeans. My hair was brushed, and my face was creamed with tinted sunblock. I was dressed with nowhere to go—just like that night twelve years ago.

I shuddered out a sigh.
Let it go.

A crisp breeze shook the clump of Monterey cypress demarcating our property from the neighbors’ on our left. Below, hardy ice plants grew out of sand and rocks. They weren’t in bloom yet, not like the Japanese camellias. Hither and tither were bursts of purple flowers and waxy green foliage. It was a pretty house we lived in with a pretty view.

And I was a slut.

I’d known better than to say that over the phone. Asha Auntie would’ve taken the words as a personal failure, not to mention been disappointed in me for regressing to victim-blaming. My head knew how stupid the thought was, but that broken, shriveled up thing hiding inside me refused to agree.

If only I hadn’t teased Rizvaan or flaunted my convent-school English in his face.

If only I hadn’t worn strapless dresses or paraded about in shorts.

If only I hadn’t fallen asleep in Zayaan’s room.

If only I’d stayed asleep or kept my mouth shut.

If only I hadn’t loved two boys…

I stood up. I wouldn’t let my idle mind become the devil Ahriman’s workshop. I needed to do something physical, exhausting.

It was too cold and windy to walk on the beach. I thought about setting the house to rights, but I’d cleaned and mopped and dusted and wiped only yesterday.

As promised, Zayaan texted me with an update. This one was accompanied with a video clip of Nirvaan getting fitted with the head brace. Anticipating the removal of tiny patches of hair on his head where he’d be injected with local anesthesia before the pins were screwed in, Nirvaan had buzzed off most of his hair in a short military cut. We’d also been warned that his hair would probably fall from those sections in the next two weeks and might not grow back at all.

Nirvaan blew me a kiss and said he was trying on his Halloween outfit. “Call me Gamma Ray Hornet.
Muahahaha.
” He pestered the radiologist who was intently screwing a pin into his left temple to blow me a kiss, too.

That decided it.

I went into the house, my spine uncurling with determination. I got ready for a long, brisk walk, locked up the house, and set off toward the hospital. It was barely five minutes away in a car. It took me a good twenty to walk there.

I would not allow Nirvaan to shut me out of his life. He could protect me all he wanted. He could take care of my future, even force me to abide by his nonsensical Titanic Wish List, but he had no right to shelter me from the wicked. He couldn’t anyway, as Khodai had proven over and over.

I never used to be weak. And, frankly, I was tired of feeling helpless. It was time this turtle broke out of her shell.

Once I reached the hospital, slightly sweaty but not out of breath, I checked in at the front desk and slapped a visitor’s sticker over my heart. I didn’t look at Nirvaan or Zayaan as I stalked into radiology and plunked myself down on a seat next to my husband in the waiting area. He wore a hospital gown with his arm connected to an IV drip and earphones plugged into his ears beneath the head brace. He was watching
The
Godfather
on the tablet.

I imagined he was surprised. Though, when I finally met his eyes, he looked more thoughtful than curious. Zayaan, on the other hand, had his lower lip caught between his teeth, as if he was trying hard not to smile. His nostrils flared, and his eyes fairly danced with humor.

“Everything we do, we do together,” I repeated the Awesome Threesome’s mantra. I felt as if a tremendous burden had lifted off my chest. I shot them both a narrow-eyed look. “Within reason, okay?”

Then, I laced my fingers with my husband’s and settled in to wait for the MRI results.

The ringmaster of Nirvaan’s team of doctors gave him a two thumbs-up approval to go hiking on the weekend.

After the Gamma Knife procedure, Nirvaan slept for a total of twenty-eight hours, getting up only to eat and use the loo.

By Friday evening, he was his usual intractable self although he admitted to feeling tender and itchy in the spots the pins had been poked into his head. That was normal—one of the few normal happenings in this house. And by then, the bandages the nurse had dressed his head in had to be taken off anyway. He complained of a headache but nothing he couldn’t stand, he assured the oncologist and me. The headache being the only reason he was home on a Friday night, he added, affecting a martyr’s moue worthy of Bhagat Singh, India’s illustrious freedom fighter.

So, late Saturday morning, we loaded the Jeep with camping equipment and drove south to the Los Padres National Forest in the Big Sur Valley. We met up with Sarvar and his party of five at the campground’s designated parking lot, and from there, we set off on an easy five-mile hike to our reserved campsite.

The nature trail meandered through the forest, jumping over a stream, bridging a gorge, leading to a clearing at the edge of a cliff that dropped fifty feet down to a rocky cove. The campsite had a single cabin with a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a separate toilet—the only reason I’d agreed to go camping. I wasn’t about to let Nirvaan sleep in a tent where insects and Khodai knew what else could bite him. Even though his nervous system had been pumped full of intravenous antibiotics the other day, I worried. I’d disinfected the puncture sites and sealed them with fresh waterproof bandages and a knit cap, making him swear on his mother that he wouldn’t take it off for the whole trip.

Hour after hour passed in the midst of nature without any mishaps, and I began to relax, even enjoy myself. Name one girl who wouldn’t bask in the attentions of seven clever, cute, and courteous guys.

Sarvar had brought his best bud, Zeus, an American-born Parsi whom I knew very well. Zeus was a great grizzly bear of a man with a voice to match. He was an intellectual property lawyer in the IT industry and was doing pretty well for himself. I loved him like a brother. I especially loved his quirky
bawaji
ways that he held on to for dear life even though he’d never stepped foot in India.

Physically, my brother couldn’t have been more different than his best friend. Sarvar was soft-spoken and almost dainty in appearance. He was short, like me. I guessed my family had patented the petite gene, as even Surin wasn’t a big man.

But where it counted most, Sarvar and Zeus were like two peas in a pod. They both loved Parsi
food, especially dhansaak. They both were passionate about work and old black-and-white films—an acquired taste, to be sure. And they both were self-professed bachelors. They wouldn’t marry unless and until lightning struck them stupid.

And here I was, a woman whom lightning had struck twice, doubling my stupid quotient. Stupid and confused—that was what I felt around Zayaan and around Nirvaan, too, sometimes.

I groaned, stopping to take a sip of water, and then clipped the steel bottle back on my pack. My thighs, my back, my arms hurt.

Rick, one of the hikers from the group, came up behind me on the trail. “You okay?” he asked.

The others bounded ahead of us.

I nodded, refusing to give up, and trudged on.

It was the first time I’d met Rick, Manoj, and Jason—gym buddies of my brother and Zeus. The five had recently started training for a marathon together. Rick and Manoj were family men, and Jason, the oldest of the group at forty-two, was as yet unattached but hopeful. He was gay. He hadn’t told me that, but I’d guessed.

As the day wore on and I got comfortable with them, I began to appreciate being the only girl in the group. Except for Zayaan, none of them threatened my peace of mind, and I let my guard down enough to flirt back.

After setting up two triple-occupancy tents in front of the cabin I’d reserved for Nirvaan and me, we took another nature trail down to the cove. The rocky inlet seemed to be a perfect place for cannonballing, and the guys began discussing a variety of height and ledge options to try out. When I heard mention of diving off the top of a cliff, I put my foot down about Nirvaan jumping from anywhere. I literally sat on his lap, so he’d sit this one out.

The sun hit the huge boulder we were sitting on, cozily warming us, as we watched the group roughhouse around us. I closed my eyes, relaxing in my husband’s arms, with the sun’s rays on my skin and the echoes of masculine banter in my ears. I might’ve dozed off, but I awoke instantly when Nirvaan adjusted the cap I’d pulled over my face and kissed my earlobe.

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” he murmured when I would’ve squirmed. His arm tightened around me, keeping me still, and I fought off my instinct to break free. “Easy, baby. Look down, on the right.”

I looked and swallowed a gasp. A baby seal was posed on the edge of our boulder where it dipped into the water. It stared at us, eyes round and unblinking, its tail swishing in the water. Suddenly, it heaved up and settled on its flappers in a mermaid pose. Its skin was patchy, not the smooth dark gray pelt one saw on mature elephant seals. I wondered about its gender. I knew mature males had an ugly proboscis-like snout protruding from their faces. This one didn’t have it. It was cute, in truth, with a large button nose and silvery whiskers that twitched as it sniffed.

The lagoon had gone silent, I realized. One by one, the others began to join us on the boulder as quietly as they could manage.

“Is he sick?” Zayaan’s question rumbled close to my right shoulder, soft and gravelly.

My skin erupted in goose bumps, but I pretended it was the sight of the baby seal and not his voice affecting me.

“No. He’s shedding,” Jason whispered.

He slowly reached for his discarded jeans, pulled out a slim camera, and began clicking. The guys had, of course, stripped down to their underwear before diving, their clothes piled in a mini mountain on one side of the boulder.

The seal heaved forward and stopped inches in front of me. We were totally face-to-face. This time, I couldn’t hold in my gasp.

“Um, guys? Why is it looking at me like I’m his next meal?” I muttered through the corner of my mouth. I wondered if seals had sharp teeth.

“I think he’s fallen in love, baby,” said Nirvaan, his chest vibrating with mirth.

“Shut up,” I whispered even though I preferred his interpretation of the staring match to mine.

“He’s right, Sims,” Zeus said in distinct amusement.

But his thick not-quite-a-whisper distracted my new suitor. The seal turned to him in much the same way—all agog and in love.

We burst into laughter, all of us, except for Zeus. It was a crazy, wonderful moment, and my heart overflowed with joy. The seal hitched another foot forward, looking highly amused, too. It began sniffing the air, splitting its attention between Zeus and me.

“Holy wow,” I said when the seal pushed forward on its stomach and put its nose against my booted foot.

It nudged me, hard. An electric current passed through my leg and up my body, and I valiantly tried not to wiggle or scream.

“Someone please tell me that seals are vegetarians,” I squeaked when it nudged my boot again. “Will it bite me? Should I move? What does it want me to do?”

“Don’t make any sudden moves, and you’ll be fine,” said Jason even though he didn’t sound convinced of his own advice. He sat down next to me, taking picture after picture. “He’s just curious, like we are about him. Good thing he isn’t fully grown, huh?”

Oh, wonderful thing.

I wasn’t afraid of animals. Nirvaan and I had swum with dolphins in the Bahamas and gone deep-sea diving among sharks on the Gold Coast. I’d even wrapped a yellow-skinned python around my neck in Bali. But those had been controlled experiences with expert staff ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble and trained or possibly drugged animals—at least, the dolphins had been tame. I’d had confidence that I was safe to some extent.

In comparison, this experience was wild and scary and oh-so Hogwarts.