I met Suneet on the internet. She lived in London and we got to know each other through patchy Skype calls and email exchanges before I made the decision to visit the UK to meet her in person. I saw the trip as the first stage in the dating process; our families saw it as a confirmation of our engagement. I got swept up in all of it even though I was uncertain about how I felt. I told my family that I liked her and it was true. She is a pretty, intelligent and kind woman who cares very much about traditions and wanted an arranged marriage. There was no reason not to ask her to marry me, especially as my mother’s health deteriorated – time was running out. In the lead-up to the wedding, I had moments of anxiety but I quelled them by reminding myself that we’d have time to get to know each other after marriage. This custom worked for our parents and it still works for thousands of Indian couples – why wouldn’t it work for me? We were compatible enough. Most importantly, both our families were thrilled. Although my mother was still weak, my engagement put a spring in her step. My dad and I stopped arguing over everything. It was a peaceful time for our family, and after I had caused so much unhappiness I wanted badly to keep this peace.
As it turned out, Suneet and I weren’t compatible in many other ways that I hadn’t considered. There was little sexual chemistry between us, something I dismissed at first because it’s not considered a valid reason for separation in our culture. Suneet also wanted children right away whereas I said we should wait. But Suneet felt pressured by relatives asking her parents when they were going to have grandkids, and I in turn resented Suneet for bowing to those pressures and accused her of risking our happiness just to satisfy our parents. And yet, as I said this to her, I realized I was also guilty of just that.
We grew restless with each other and argued over petty things. In the end, Suneet was the one who suggested divorce. She was weary and growing bitter, and she still had her best years ahead of her. I don’t think I understood how much I had put her through until she said, ‘You’ve already taken two years away from me. Don’t waste any more of my time.’ I knew that going back to her home a divorced woman would be shattering. Confronting both our parents with the truth was a ghastly experience. My mom had just begun a round of more successful radiation therapy and she seemed to be on the mend. Our announcement plunged her back into illness. She stayed in bed for a while and Dad didn’t return my calls. Suneet went through the same at home.
I moved into a small flat-share during the divorce and I was contemplating moving back to California but the thought of facing my family was too much to deal with.
My dad finally returned one of my calls to inform me that my mother’s remission was looking hopeful, and I went to the temple to give my thanks. That was the day I met you. But at Suneet’s home, things went from bad to worse. Bitter, and suffering from a loss of face in the community, her dad launched a character assault on my family and me. He was heartbroken for his daughter – I understand that – but he went around saying horribly hurtful things about my siblings. These rumours travelled back to California through our family networks. It was his intention to ruin the family’s reputation in the way that I had apparently ruined his daughter’s chances for finding a suitable husband again. When he exhausted this tactic, he attempted to sue me for damages, claiming that I had caused irretrievable harm to the family by divorcing his daughter. Suneet did not participate in much of this, but she didn’t stop him either. Everyone was hurting.
Those urgent calls that I had to answer – often when I was with you – were from my mother, Suneet’s father, Suneet’s father’s lawyer (who turned out to be a real dud – an uncle with a law degree from a third-rate Indian university) and my siblings. There was always something going on, and it seemed to be my fault every time. I needed to placate everybody, which involved long conversations and negotiations. I was putting out spot fires that were more demanding than my full-time job. There was a tremendous amount of emotional blackmail.
I came close to telling my parents that I knew I was not in love with Suneet because I had experienced falling in love with you and I could see how different it was. But I didn’t want to get you involved. I know it seemed like I was creating that distance from you because I wasn’t interested, but it was the opposite – I was afraid that if we got closer, things would go disastrously wrong. I wanted to avoid you coming to my flat because I was nervous that someone would see us and accuse me of having an affair and that you would be dragged in.
Nikki, it was cowardice that kept me from finding the words to tell you the truth. I regret every second that I’ve spent without you. It was selfish and dishonest of me to lie and to disappear so many times without explanation. You were so open with me from the first day we met, and I could have repaid you by sharing all of this with you from the start. I’m so, so sorry, Nikki. I don’t expect you to ever want to see me again, but if you did, I’d do anything to gain your trust again.
Love,
Jason
Chapter Twenty-One
The morning air was crisp and a mild breeze made Nikki’s hands tingle. On the train, she picked up a copy of yesterday’s Evening Standard and busied herself with reading old news.
The shops were still closed by the time Nikki arrived at Notting Hill Gate station but a stream of tourists flowed towards the Portobello Road market. They stopped to pose for pictures in front of the pastel-painted homes.
Nikki headed in the opposite direction towards the cinema, which was still screening the French film that she and Jason had missed. She still had half an hour to kill before the show started so she carried on ambling. At a traffic light, a family of American tourists stopped to ask where Hyde Park was. She pointed in its direction but they wanted her to show it to them on a large, unfolded map. She was trying to see where they were on the map when a gust of wind hit the centre crease and ripped it. ‘We’ll figure it out,’ the mother of the family said. She took the map back and folded it. ‘We need this to last us our whole trip,’ she said.
‘That’s all right,’ Nikki said. As the tourists walked away, Nikki overheard the woman telling her husband. ‘We should ask a person who’s from here.’
Nikki was dumbstruck by their rudeness. The husband turned around then and gave Nikki an apologetic nod. Nikki continued walking but she was half tempted to go after the woman and tell her that she was from here, thank you very much. She was so lost in a cloud of indignant thoughts that she overshot her mark and found herself on the end of the street, having passed Sally’s Bookshop. She returned to it and lit a cigarette. Having her claim to Britain taken away from her by an ignorant tourist warranted a satisfying smoke.
Nikki peered into the bookshop’s window, her eyes trained on the Sale bin at the back. Then suddenly, a face appeared in the window, and she jumped back, dropping her cigarette on the ground. It was the bookshop’s cashier, the woman she’d spoken to last time she visited. The woman knocked excitedly on the window and gestured for Nikki to come inside. Nikki stubbed out her cigarette and went in.
‘Sorry for scaring you like that,’ the woman laughed.
Nikki smiled tightly. Now only two cigarettes remained in her pack and she was meant to quit after that. The one she had dropped was only half finished and as she thought of it lying on the pavement, a wave of grief washed over her.