As Sweet as Honey

10




Meterling stood in an archway. She saw the sunrise in bits—bright orange low in the sky. She saw the clouds grow purple, saw the sun loom large, awake. She saw the sun loom large, loom large and become round, filling her view—making her round, filling her view of the sky. She walked in the path of the sun, thinking of her son, and smiling and grimacing at once at the interplay of words, at the poor pun, but then her mind calmed again—she saw in the sun’s progression her own limitations and saw also her son’s possibilities. She knew she would have a son. She saw the possibilities for her son, who, like the sun, would turn from round orange to transparent yellow to a blue steel—a silvery steel, climbing high before she knew it. Her son would see the world, travel through the sky. And with a mother’s intuition, she held him strong in the womb, and gritted her teeth in anticipation of the childbirth months away.

She greeted the day each morning by walking her coriander coffee to the herb garden. The tulsi in the pedestal was lush; the thyme had begun flowering too early, because of the spate of recent hot days. The oregano stood tall and full. Only the lavender was slow, raising perfumed leaves to herald the still-green buds. The burst of lavender had always been significant to Meterling, ever since as a child she weaved wreaths from the flowers to shape into crowns. The day was overcast. A thundery day might well ensue. This time, she did not think of Archer for a full ten minutes. Her fingers were growing plump. She had long taken off the rings, thinking she would give them to her son to give to his bride. What would Oscar grow up to be? Would he have his father’s white skin, his blond hair? Would he be ridiculed in school? She placed her hands protectively over her belly. She would protect him, she would surround him with such love, and it would shield him from taunts and cruelty.


Nalani also spent a great deal of time in the garden. She liked to walk deep into the backyard, where there was a small clearing under the lemon tree. There, she could lose many minutes just staring at the green grass and breathing in the heady aroma of lemon blossom. She placed a small chair and table there, so she could sometimes sit with her feet up. One day she noticed a papery wasp nest deposited neatly on the table. It was so light and carefully constructed—a honeycomb of networking. As she tossed it away—it looked like there were some waspy remnants inside—she wondered how it got there. Three days later, a small bird’s eggshell was on the table. Two halves actually, beautifully oval and colored pale green. When the small strawberries arrived nestled on a mat of leaves, she knew that someone was leaving her presents. She wasn’t frightened. She didn’t feel as if she were being watched or stalked—no pinprick of fear or agitation to suggest anything out of place. Only a sense of peace and a calm happiness. Soon, they would arrange a marriage for her, and she knew to whom it would have to be.

It was Sanjay, whom she finally caught in the act. Something to do, he shrugged.



Meterling was four months gone and ready to give birth any day. But Dr. Kamalam had said there were four months and twenty-eight days still to go. She wanted to take off all her clothes and float in cool water, anything to feel less weighted. She did not want to wear the bangles at the bangle ceremony when all the women would crowd around her and offer baby advice. She wished she could take a plane to England, run among those violets Archer always spoke of. She wished she could drink a martini. She had seen a picture of one in Punch and it looked cool and inviting.

Instead, she ate sugared sweets, round halvahs made of carrot and ghee; small balls of farina studded with almonds. Everything round to remind her of her round belly, her round baby. When she wasn’t eating sweets, she felt cross, magic Meterling, ready to break sticks, throw rocks, anything to get it all over with. Why had she been so hasty to sleep with Archer? Did she really think she could fool the gods? How could the baby brave a life with no father?

“Come to the concert with me,” coaxed Nalani. “The loud violins might please the child.”

“Can violins really be that loud?” wondered Meterling.

It was a local Carnatic group practicing for the winter music fests in South India. A flute player was supposed to be especially good, having studied under the great Mali. Forty violins would accompany her.

As it was, it was only four violinists, not forty. “Would that it were true, madam,” sighed the ticket master as he counted out their change. “What a celestial chorus that would be!”

The aunties had wondered if it were wise to bring Meterling to the concert, but Meterling was twitching. Uncle Darshan suggested she go to a scary movie, but Nalani thought violins would give more grace to the birth. “The child inside can probably no doubt hear everything,” she said, and then blushed for the frankness of her expression. Smitten with a college boy named Rajan, whom she secretly named Goat Herder, and no one else, Nalani knew that she was not wise in anything to do with the heart.

“But a baby, Nalani,” said Meterling, “has to do with the body, and sometimes—yes, only sometimes—with the heart as well. Archer and I didn’t think twice; we were caught up in the moment—there I was in his bed, with my sari coming undone. Who could have predicted it? Of course, we knew we were to marry—he’d asked already, but I hadn’t said yes, you know. I said yes only three days later, shocked by it all, of course …”

Nalani blushed at Meterling’s frankness, thinking of Rajan, whom she met at an intercollege outing. She could bind herself to him in one breath, after all.

“What does that mean?” Rasi would ask if she could hear her thoughts. What would it mean to bind oneself like that? Bind like a vine? Like a knot?

“Like a love knot,” I would reply, “like a love knot.” But those adult conversations were not part of our privilege, so I make them up now as much as I can.

They came back late from the concert, and Meterling was again in good humor.