Broken Harmony

by Brenda Barrett

  If he didn't he would ruin her life. The thought made him uneasy. He couldn't trust what he was feeling and that made any declaration that he was planning to make impotent.

  "I have to honor my family." Alka sighed. "I am sorry."

  Aaron turned her face to him. "I am sorry too. Maybe it is unfair to ask you to take a leap of faith for us. Neither of us knows what the future will hold. It breaks my heart, though, that you are leaving."

  He looked at her lips and then in her eyes. "You shouldn't have called me on the beach five months ago. I had a feeling that this was not going to end well, Alka."

  "But I wouldn't have had this time with you." Alka leaned forward toward him; her wet hair dripped on his chinos. He looked at the damp spots that the water made on his pants almost numbly.

  He didn't know when he made up his mind to kiss her; they had never kissed before. He had not wanted them to become physical. He had reasoned that it would hurt less when she left but now he felt as if he had to at least know how her lips felt against his. He could store it away for years to come in the bittersweet memories that he would have of her.

  Aaron lowered his lips to hers. They were soft and tasted salty—a hint of salt and the sweetness of her. He could have gone on kissing her forever but he raised his head and stared at her moist lips. A searing sort of longing had him in its grip. She closed her eyes as if she was trying to hang on to the memory of the kiss.

  "Today is goodbye," Aaron said huskily.

  "Yes." Alka opened her eyes slowly. Tears were silently coursing down her cheeks.

  They barely spoke for the rest of the day. A heavy, crushing feeling encased Aaron's heart and Alka couldn't muster any pretense that she was happy. She was aching inside, burdened by her decision to leave the man she loved.

  *****

  After Aaron dropped Alka off at her front gate, she walked up the estate’s long palm tree-lined driveway. It had rained earlier and there were little puddles on the driveway. She took off her sandals and walked barefooted. She might never get the chance to walk up this particular driveway, in this country again, but she would miss it. She loved it here.

  She stood in the middle of the driveway and looked around. Nostalgia hit her hard and heavy. She looked at the bungalow-style house with its cut stonework and intricate grillwork, then at the bottlebrush trees with their lovely pink flowers scattered through the one acre estate. She would miss it all.

  The estate had belonged to her deceased grand-uncle and now it was her father's. There was dense foliage that separated their property from the Lees’, except for the back of the house where it thinned out a bit and she could spy on the garage and see when Aaron drove in and left. She would miss that too. The very thought of Aaron had her heart fluttering uncomfortably once more. He had asked her to stay.

  She had already been crying enough at night over the past few months. She was determined that when she left Jamaica she would be happy. She was hoping that she would start feeling it, but faking happiness was tiring and draining.

  She slowly walked up to the house and let herself in. Her mother was on the back patio looking out at the sea.

  "Alka, come join me," she said pleasantly.

  Alka paused; she had wanted to call her friend, Farrah Knight, and pour out her heartbrokenness to her over the phone. She was not in the mood for her mother's pragmatic lectures on married life.

  "Give me a minute," she said, her tone almost mournful. "I am going to have a quick shower."

  When she got out of the bathroom her mother was still on the patio sitting in a lounge chair. She had a book opened and facing downward on her chest. She was looking out at the sea with a pensive expression on her face. Alka sat in the chair beside hers.

  Her mother said in the silence, "All the women in our family have brokered good husbands, Alka. Well, except Anusha. Her husband, Arjun, used to beat her, but she was a disobedient wife and deserved it."

  Alka bristled. She always did when violence against women was taken as lightly as her mother discussed it. It was a part of her culture that she detested with a passion. She fought the urge to argue with her mother now. She had a feeling that she would go too far because she was in a militant mood. Besides, her mother would probably shrug off her indignation as an indication that she was being spoiled by modernization.

  "You know, Alka, the Singhs are a good family and wealthy too. You will not have to work. You can concentrate on having babies and running your own household. You will be happy."

  Alka cringed at every word. Her parents should never have carried her outside of their closeted village in Punjab and given her a taste of something else if they wanted her to be a traditional wife and mother. As it was, each word her mother spoke made her feel as if a noose was tied around her neck and was being pulled slowly and carefully to squeeze the life out of her.

  She wanted to go to university. She wanted to be a medical doctor like Anandi Gopal Joshi, the first Indian woman to obtain a degree in Western medicine. She vaguely heard her mother rambling on and on about a wife's responsibilities and she lapsed into a dreamy state, wondering if Rajiv Singh was progressive enough to allow her to go to university. She had read that there was a shortage of female doctors in India, especially Mumbai, where she was going to live with him.

  She crossed her fingers, closed her eyes, and silently prayed to God. Dear God, in your commandments you said I should honor my father and my mother. I am doing that. I am going to India to marry Rajiv because they want me to. Can you do me a favor in return? Can you help me to get a medical degree in India? And make Rajiv a good husband who doesn't want me to be a broodmare.

  "Did you hear me, Alka?" Ayesha asked exasperatedly. "You have been over there as silent as a ghost."

  "Sorry." Alka opened her eyes and looked at her mother. "What was that, Mama?"

  "I said that I already started packing for you."

  Alka's heart fluttered fearfully. If her mother went into her room maybe she had found her photos with Aaron and her Bible. She kept them under her mattress when she left the house.

  Alka jumped up from the chair. "Maybe I should go inside and continue packing."

  Her mother smiled pleasantly. "I am so happy you have stopped talking nonsense about staying in Jamaica."

  Alka nodded and headed to her room. Her mother had only been in her closet. On the bed was spread a beautiful yellow sari with gold-edged embroidery—her favorite combination of colors.

  It was left as a present for her. She caressed the material and then sat on the bed with it clutched in her hand. She closed her eyes and tried to picture herself in Mumbai wearing the sari and entertaining Rajiv's friends. Instead she saw Aaron's face and heard his earnest request for her to stay.

  She forced the image from her mind. She would have to expunge Aaron from her life, starting today.

  She got up and dragged a blank paper from her desk to write him a letter. She sat with the blank paper for a long while and then she started writing.

  I will always think of you, I'll try not to but I know I will. I am happy that we met and that we could be part of each other's lives for a while. You made me happy.

  She paused in her writing and then thought about what she could put that would reassure Aaron that he had made an impact on her life. She grabbed her Bible and skipped through it to find a verse that she knew would be appropriate. She finally found it and then she smiled while she wrote it. May the Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another. Alka

  She took a deep breath and started packing. Her Bible would go into her hand luggage.

  Chapter Four

  Two months later...

  "Ah," Boris stood at Aaron's office door with a smug look on his face. "Is little Aaron feeling blue over his missing girlfriend?"

  Aaron put the photo of Alka that he was staring at back on his desk and sighed. He had thought her leaving would have brought him some sort of peace but each day he sat and wondered.

&nbs
p; Did she arrive in India safely? Did she like Rajiv? Had they already consummated their marriage? Was she thinking of him?

  Lurid images of her and Rajiv making love haunted his dreams at night, and it was slowly driving him crazy.

  He glanced at his desk. He didn't go home last night. He had done an all-nighter working on the merger with Tropics hotel. His brother had intruded on him giving into a rare moment of despair; each day he allowed himself one moment to wallow in self-pity. The rest of the time he worked like a maniac, trying to get Alka and thoughts of her out of his system.

  Boris came farther into the room and picked up the photo. "She was gorgeous, wasn't she?"

  "What do you want, Boris?" Aaron asked wearily.

  Boris put down the picture and pushed his hand into his pockets. "I want you to take a break. This single-minded determination you have to prove to Dad that you are a hard worker and better than me is nauseating."

  "For peace's sake," Aaron said, "aren't you supposed to be working on an alternative to my merger proposal so that the board will have options to consider?"

  "Yes. I am." Boris sat in the plush settee across from his desk. "But I find myself wondering why I have to be competing for a job with you when you are my younger brother by eleven months. I am the eldest; Dad should just hand the reigns of the VP position to me."

  Aaron snorted. "You know Dad can't do that! The decision is a board decision and grandpa is chairman of the board. He thinks you are irresponsible and he doesn't want the company he has worked so hard to build to be left into your hands."

  "Grandpa forgot what it is like to be young," Boris said grumpily, "and so has Dad and the rest of the old fuddy-duddies on the board. Dad is just fifty-two and he's acting like an old man. I don't want to suck up to them and go to church like you do and act like I am some saint."

  "I don't go to church because of Dad," Aaron sighed, looking back at his desk. "I go because I like the fellowship, my friends are there, I like the family atmosphere, and the people are encouraging..."

  "Blah, blah, blah." Boris stood up. "I am going to get some work done. I hope the twelve old timers on the board prefer my presentation to yours. I know Uncle Graham is in my corner; he is, after all, an elder brother who was passed over for the job too."

  "But," Aaron grinned, "he works out with me in the gym when I am here. And he hates the way you look at his new wife."

  "Carla!" Boris snorted. "I just don't get it. Graham is fifty-six; Carla is what, twenty? She wants me." He rubbed his chin. "It's only a matter of time."

  "You are sick," Aaron hissed.

  Boris shrugged. "No brother. You are sick. When I am VP I just might fire you for being so boring."

  Aaron chuckled. "You can't fire me, more's the pity, because I can't fire you either when I am VP."

  Boris grimaced. "And you might just get it too, staying here day in and day out working like a beast. I am telling you, man, this is no way to live."

  "Whatever," Aaron said to his retreating back. He swiveled his chair and looked outside at the view from his office. Their head office was at the very first Palm Tree hotel, just off site from the main hotel. They were in a separate administrative building, which was built with all the comforts of a home away from home. Every executive office was placed so that each had a gorgeous view. The Vice President's office had an even better view than the one he enjoyed now as VP in charge of operations.

  The truth was, he knew what he was going to present to the board. He also had a strong feeling that he would get the nod for the position. His grandfather, Boris P. Lee, Senior, chairman of the board, was a hard-nosed businessman but his namesake, the younger Boris, was not as serious as he wanted him to be.

  The rest of the board, which included his father and uncles and other shareholders, all thought he was the most responsible of the two brothers. He had always been the more sober of the two.

  His mother, Dana, had always said he was born with an old soul. He was the thinker, the introvert and Boris the extrovert and life of the party. They were opposites in every way.

  However, they resembled so much in physical features and were so close in age people had once assumed that they were twins. It was one of the reasons he had taken up working out at the gym with a passion. He wanted to bulk up and look thicker than Boris. He kept his curls low because Boris kept his long. If Boris went east he tried to go west.

  Boris was the reason he had even thought of going out with Alka in the first place, because she had shown such a strong dislike to him.

  He dragged his mind from Alka. He had done his moping about her for the day already. Life goes on. Why couldn't his mind adjust as quickly as he wanted it to?

  "Hey son." His mother pushed her head through the door. She had a picnic basket in her hand. "You didn't come home last night."

  "Yes Mom," he looked at his mother fondly; she had a concerned look on her face. "I had to tie up some loose ends here."

  "No, you didn't have to, Aaron. You wanted to; there's a difference," she sat down across from him and placed the basket on the desk. "That's brunch. I had the chef do it just for you."

  "Thanks," he grinned. "For a moment there I thought you tried to cook."

  Dana chuckled. "Not when I have a chef. Eat up."

  "I am not hungry, Mom." Aaron sighed. For months now he had been toying with the idea of moving out of his family's house.

  Maybe now was the right time to do it. He was not his mother's baby boy anymore and he didn't want her to be treating him like one. He looked at her youthful features. She was remarkably young looking at fifty. It was impossible to look at her now, so sophisticated and polished, and believe that she used to work at the Palm Tree hotel as a maid. She had come from rural St. James from substandard conditions and had managed to attract the hotel owner's son without even trying.

  His father had taken one look at the fresh-faced black girl with the winsome smile and fell hard for her. He had pursued her single mindedly and even changed churches so that he could be closer to her when he found out that she was a churchgoer. They had gotten married three months after meeting and still acted in love, as if they could not get enough of each other, nearly thirty years later.

  He could have had that sort of happiness with Alka. He knew that now. Now, when she was gone. He wished he had been brave enough to declare his feelings for her before she left. Though he wasn't sure what that would have done.

  "You are unhappy," Dana said, intruding on his thoughts. "Why won't you talk to me?"

  "Because it will pass, this down feeling." Aaron shrugged. "I'll be happy again, one day."

  Dana stood up. "When you are ready to talk, you know I will be prepared to listen." She picked up the basket. "I'll carry this to your father's office and see if we can have an impromptu picnic. You have to keep the romance alive, you know." She winked at him and headed outside.

  Aaron got up and closed the door. He didn't want another family member intruding on his day. He grabbed the phone and called his secretary.

  "Corvette, I think I am going to need a real estate agent. It's time I find my own place."

  His middle-aged secretary laughed. "I wondered when you were going to cut loose from the bunch. Everybody knows that a Vice President doesn't live with his parents and brother."

  Aaron grinned. "You know something I don't know, Corvette?"

  She snorted. "Your brother is not VP material and everyone knows it. Even the guys who clean the office know it. Even Boris himself knows it."

  Aaron chuckled. "Please keep the house hunt quiet. I don't think I want Boris to know that I am looking for a place because I don't want him to know where I am going to live when I eventually find one."

  Corvette guffawed. "Your secret is safe with me, boss."

  *****

  It was morning time in Mumbai, and the suburb of Bandra was already awake. Alka could hear the rickshaws on the streets below. She could smell the spices from the house adjoining their three-bedroom townhou
se. Their neighbor was cooking spiced potatoes for breakfast. She recognized the scent and it made her mouth water. Her appetite was coming back; she had barely eaten since coming back to India.

  Alka stood on the top floor patio of the two-story house. It was her new home—her new prison. From the moment that she arrived at the house, after Rajiv and his mother picked her up from the airport, she had been having a nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach that would not go away.

  Rajiv's mother, Vani, had spent two weeks with them and finally left yesterday evening. Today was the first day that she was alone with Rajiv. He wasn't a bad person, she was relieved to see.

  He was well groomed and handsome and unfailingly polite—almost gentle. She struggled to reconcile her memory of the scrawny twelve-year-old boy she remembered from their first meeting and the handsome man Rajiv had grown into.

  She hadn't gotten a chance to get to know him since she moved back to India. He went out every day to get his production business off the ground and returned at night for his meals.

  He did not say much. Neither did Vani, and Alka was relieved that his mother had left and gone back to Punjab. At least she could have the house to herself without Vani's silent presence trailing her everywhere.

  She was feeling anxious about consummating the marriage. It had been two weeks and Rajiv hadn't even made an attempt to kiss her. She wanted him to just get it over and done with. She couldn't stand the suspense.

  Rajiv padded silently on the patio and sat down on one of the cushions on the verandah.

  "Alka," he said softly, "please join me."

  Alka turned around from the railing nervously. He looked so solemn.

  She sat across from him, swallowing uneasily.

  Rajiv was fidgeting as well. He clenched and unfolded his fist several times. "This is not easy to talk about."