As Sweet as Honey

40




Forty-five minutes later, Simon came in with Oscar as Meterling wrapped a towel around herself, after pulling out the bath plug. Her dark skin glistened. Her hair in a turban, she greeted her family in the living room, Simon undoing Oscar’s buttons.

“Look at his rosy cheeks! Simon, where have you been all this time?”

“We ate pie. While you have been luxuriating in a bubbly tub …”

“Pie! We have—”

“Dinner, I know. Look, I brought flowers.”

She exclaimed over the tulips, bent to give them both kisses, and rushed to dress Oscar in his new kurta. She wondered if the material was soft enough. If he fussed, she’d change him, she promised herself, feeling a little guilty. He gave her a smile, and pumped his arms. She kissed his toes—her baby. Simon put away the stroller and put the kettle on. He told her about running into Estelle as Meterling tied her petticoat. The bell rang as she was arranging the pleats on her sari. Simon’s parents. Quickly, she brushed her hair and joined them as they surrounded Oscar with their attention.

“I thought I’d bring a little extra food, darling, just in case,” said Nora, thrusting a grocery bag in Simon’s hands, even as she reached for Oscar.

“But you didn’t have to—”

“Just some salads, that’s all. Potato and curried cream, and deviled eggs on endive.”

Meterling took the food to the table, and unpacked the pretty glass bowls. What was endive? She hoped it was not non-veg. Nora never quite believed she was capable of feeding Simon, just as she was not convinced Simon was truly vegetarian. She had even provided serving spoons. The door rang again, and it was Dr. Morgan—Kavita—and her partner, Lisa. Meterling was surprised both that her partner was a woman and that she was the receptionist from the office, the one who’d shown surprise at her height.

Simon bundled everyone’s coats to the bedroom while Meterling served tiny glasses of pineapple juice. They awkwardly sat in the living room, eyes glued on Oscar, until conversation slowly began to build.

“So, are you girls roommates?” Nora asked Kavita and Lisa.

“Well, we’re partners, really.”

“Partners in crime, eh?” asked John.

“Partners as in common law.”

“Ah.”

Everyone drank a little more pineapple juice.

“Well, I definitely approve,” said Nora, brightly.

“It’s not a matter of approval—” began Lisa.

“The weather has been awful, lately,” said John, to no one in particular, and Kavita hastily agreed.

Kavita and Lisa had been together eight years, and yes, they lived together almost from the beginning, in North London, near Camden Town. No, they had bought the property a while back, with help from Kavita’s parents. Simon’s mother wondered if her son and his wife might do the same, while his father said no, it’s too late for that, now, they’d have to try farther out, unless they wanted a fixer-upper.

“A fixer-upper?”

“DIY. Hammers, nails, plumbing.”

Simon seemed to be excited by the idea, but his father said he ought to just take over Archer’s old flat, instead of renting it out.

“Your family will start growing, and you’ll need the space,” he said.

“But they want to make new memories, John.”

“How can you make new memories? A memory has to be old by its very nature. In any case, you can take over the old home, and Nora and I will get a little pied-à-terre in the city. What do you say, dear, we can trip the light fantastic?”

“How is your family, my dear? The young couple that wed?”

Nalani, she told them, wrote often.

“She is happy with the boy.”

“Didn’t she love someone else?” asked Simon.

“What? Tell us the story,” asked Nora.

“No story. She had a schoolgirl crush on a boy in her class. Well, maybe more than a crush.”

“Their horoscopes didn’t match,” said Simon.

Meterling glared at him. Now she would have to explain horoscopes and matches.

“It’s difficult for some young women to say no to their family’s wishes,” said Kavita.

“Some? You mean most,” said Lisa.

“Well, yes, most. They’re raised to follow their family’s wishes, not risk love marriages.”

“Your parents didn’t object, Dr. Morgan?”

“Call me Kavita. Well, they were upset for a while. Lisa and I as a couple are illegal in my country, you know. But I had done all the other so-called right things—went through medical school, had a job, and lived abroad.”

“Didn’t they want you to return after the degree?”

“Yes, to look at prospective boys, but I stalled them until I finally told them.”

“At first, her parents pretended they hadn’t heard. I told Kavi it wasn’t that important.”

“But I wanted them to know. Maybe I wanted, like all good Indian girls, their blessings.”

“You must have received them, if they helped you buy a house.”

“That was my father. He came around sooner than my mother.”

Susan interrupted the conversation, arriving at the door with gaily wrapped champagne and a plush toy for the baby. Simon met and quickly embraced her.

“How is it going?”

“There’s been only one palpable hit so far,” he said in a low voice. “And you should try to go in unarmed, for once.”

Susan made a face, and moved past him, and presented the bottle and toy to Meterling. She also brought along a copy of Neela Chandrashekar’s latest book of poetry, which she’d book-marked to a poem called “Birth Channel,” underneath which was printed “Dedicated to my brave Meterling.”

“I found it at Blackwell’s,” said Susan. “I was looking for Blake, but I pulled this out, paged through it, and imagine my surprise. This is you, isn’t it?”

Meterling had never had a poem dedicated to her before and was flustered and pleased. The poem spoke of passage and water and rebirth. Simon said he wasn’t quite sure what the poem meant; Susan said his reaction was certainly psychological, since to her, the poem was very clear and actually quite moving. Surprisingly, Kavita knew the poet’s work, having found some of her books in a shop in Madurai.

“And to think you know her! She seems very mysterious, very passionate,” the doctor remarked.

“I don’t read much poetry, or fiction, for that matter. Nora reads novels, but I like history,” said John, settling into his chair.