Unbidden, a pair of champagne eyes swam behind his tightly closed vision. The woman at the cafe...Giana. He had never seen her before. It had been a few months since he had been regularly visiting the cafe, losing himself among strangers to drown in the meaningless noise, so that he could not hear Eva’s screams in his head.
Giana’s huge champagne eyes, filled with humiliating tears appeared in his mind’s eye...somehow connecting to the gaping holes in his soul. Her grief and helplessness had resonated with his at a deeper level.
Max had worked late today; a day that he had no wish to remember and yet could not forget even if he scraped his memories clean with a metal scrubber. He had ignored his elder brother Phillip’s call. He knew why his phone had been ringing since morning. Phillip had sent a message last week too, informing him about the prayer service at the chapel in Bangalore. But Max hadn’t been there to attend it. Not today. The day he had lost everything.
Sitting at the cafe had somehow soothed the constant pain, and toned down the simmering, useless rage. He had delayed his exit, accompanied with mugs of bitter caffeine, refusing to acknowledge the lateness of the hour as the bustling cafe had slowly drained of all sounds, even as evening darkened into night.
He had been half inclined to beg for a little nook for the night in that cafe where strangers laughed and chatted and celebrated special occasions among their loved ones. Where the delicious aroma of baking mingled with spices in a celebration of tastes. A place where too many things jostled for attention, effectively snuffing out his unwanted memories.
Then the little toddler had wandered into his space, his baby face beaming at Max, reminding him of all that he had desperately wanted to forget. Ignoring the babe had become difficult as his little fist had clutched the spoon on the table. It was as if that little hand had squeezed Max’s heart mercilessly. The woman hiding behind the counter had rushed to save her child from the toppling cups.
And everything that Max had been shielding himself from had slammed into his chest with the impact of a crushing boulder. His awareness of her as a woman, of his needs as a man. And of being a father. It had struck him in his weakest flank. He had suddenly stood exposed, staring inward at the beast that roared to life, ready to devour him.
He had watched the little boy in the centre of the toppling teacups, a scene, perhaps, common in most households. Scenes with rambunctious children and upturned living spaces. But it seared his heart like scalding wax. He had tumbled headlong into it, instinctively picking the child out of harm’s way, only to realize that the little squiggling form made him want to hug him close to his thumping heart. Out of nowhere, an image had burst upon him grabbing him unawares, of how Joey’s hair had felt on his throat when he cuddled into his chest in sleep. The whiff of baby soap and milky drool and innocence...The image had nearly cleaved him through.
Putting the child away instantly before he could give in to the urge to roar in pain, he had knelt down to help the woman, only to be hurled into the next vivid cloudburst of desire that he had been avoiding since Eva’s untimely death! The subtle feminine scent mingled with undertones of cinnamon and vanilla, the silken skin, a shade of honey gold, so delicate that it failed to hide the blush of embarrassment that crept up her face. As she had turned away to pick up the pieces, he had gaped like a dim-witted oaf at her glossy mass of dark brown curls, tumbling in a disarray around her shoulders, the rest, snaking down her back in a loose braid.
Even the non-descript, beige cotton frock and the hideous, shapeless apron couldn’t diffuse the allure of her hour-glass figure. Everything masculine in him had risen to painful awareness, smashing through the concrete that surrounded his heart when she had slanted an awkward glance at him through huge eyes the colour of bubbling champagne. A man could drown in them and forget all his pain and never surface.
He had hated himself for the deluge of reaction flooding his body. He had hated himself for being attracted to a woman other than Eva. A married woman, the mother of a beautiful child, a woman who probably had a husband somewhere…Max wondered how he had fallen so low!
He had curbed the insistent urge to ask her name when suddenly the proprietor had barged in through the door and called out to her daughter. His wish to know her name had been granted. But the scene had turned out to be most awkward and ugly. He had felt Giana shrink into herself as if trying to ward off a blow. And a vicious blow it had been on her character, even as he watched in sheer outrage, how Carol Francois bullied her daughter into submission. It was completely undeserved, nearly goading him to retaliate in kind. He had watched Giana’s eyes shimmer in humiliation even through her valiant effort to defend him, a stranger. Unable to help the poor thing, and unwilling to get embroiled in someone else’s problems when he had a mountain of his own to bear, he had walked out of the cafe in disgust.
The sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks did not bring him any peace. He could have given anything to lose himself into oblivion. But he had no choice but to face his sins...every single day for the rest of his life.
A withering curse left him as Max grabbed his jacket, stuffed the tie into a pocket and started his bike. He rode back to his house, a beautiful building...a newly bought escape...but never going to be a home.
Like most nights in the past three years, Max forgot about dinner as he unlocked the door. And no one was around to ask him if he was hungry. No loving hands to fix him a meal. He remembered a time when he had prepared a huge breakfast for Eva on their honeymoon. A little cottage in Normandy where they had started their first days of marriage. He could cook a fairly good meal. Fatherhood had taught him many things and one of them had been to make quick fun meals for his family.
But those had been rare occasions before work and ambition had chipped away at his time, precious time that he should have spent with his wife and child. And finally he had paid a hefty price.
Max brought out a bottle of scotch and gulped it down on the rocks. He had never been a hard drinking man. But of late it seemed to blur the lines of reality and illusion quite adequately. The easy way out of hell...maybe right into it. An hour later when he had suitably drunk himself to hell and damnation, he hurled the empty bottle, yelling a curse, uncaring about the expensive vase that smashed to pieces. He couldn’t care less if the entire house crashed into a heap on top of his cursed head...just as it had on his family...
He fell on the bed fully dressed, at the mercy of the liquor, hoping for refuge.
*
Hearing the crash in the house next door, across the vast unkempt scrub that had been a flourishing garden once, Giana sat up in her bed. Toby had slept after dinner and she had cuddled him close, not wanting to put him in his own bed tonight. She had needed his reassuring presence after the embarrassing episode at the cafe.
Another sound of someone yelling brought her out of her sleepy state. There were no lights in the building next door that had a boundary wall running alongside the Francois House. She had never seen the new owner. The beautiful villa, a part of the French quarter had lain unoccupied for several years before receiving extensive renovation and a fresh coat of ocean green and white paint on the external facade. The classic, blue and white slanted roof and high curved windows had French architecture stamped all over it. Tall wrought-iron gates flanked a cobbled driveway that led to the elegant portico. Sometimes, she heard the growl of a motorbike or a car in the garage but never the sounds of a family.
Of late, she had wondered who had come to reside in its dark premises. Perhaps it was a bachelor, she thought. The boundary wall lights were never turned on and the garden was tinder dry with only a few tall palms to enliven it. The portico was gleaming white and yet appeared deserted with the main door always closed.
Unable to sleep, Giana kissed Toby’s cheek and rose. Opening the door to the balcony she sat curled up on one of the wicker chairs. The stars above winked silently and she could hear the murmuring waves in the distance. Her mother was sleeping on the other sid
e of the house and her sister was in the next room across the corridor.
Giana sighed, sadness engulfing her. Very soon it would be Christmas. September was already a bland memory and the rains were due any time.
Passing days. Changing seasons. Mundane routine.
Her thoughts went back to the beautiful days before the death of her father and her elder brother Michael. She remembered racing on the beach in pouring rain with Annabel and Michael. Her father admonishing her when she came back after a bicycle ride all over the town. Her mother’s censure at her reckless behaviour, playing a rowdy game of football in the backyard, trying to beat Michael who had been three years older to her. She had always considered herself his equal, stubbornly refusing to call him anna despite stern lectures from her mother. She remembered the weddings of cousins and the baptisms of babies born to them. The sheer enjoyment of having families gathering for meals during Christmas and Easter and feast days at the church. Having picnics on the seashore with friends and dreaming about the future.
And falling headlong in love at nineteen and making the worst decision of her life, altering the course of it forever. Eloping with Ricky Bartholomew the rock band drummer she had met at a wedding reception and getting married hastily in front of a magistrate...and then getting pregnant after that first night with Ricky.
Ricky had quivered in his shoes in front of his father’s wrath and plainly refused to acknowledge the child even though the marriage had a certificate to prove it. And he had run away with a travelling band of musicians. Giana had been shattered by his desertion. She had returned home pregnant and heartbroken. But she had no one to blame but herself. Her mother would never let her forget that.
She remembered it all with a shudder of revulsion now. The shock had killed her gentle, soft-spoken father a week later after Michael’s fatal accident. Carol had never forgiven her.
For causing the death of her husband James and first-born, Michael.
Giana had filed for divorce which had come through only last year. Ricky had not even come to see the baby and had sent the signed papers.
The only thing that she never regretted was Toby. She had gone through hell to have him against everyone’s wishes. At twenty, she had become pregnant and Carol never let her forget that Giana was the cause of so much shame and distress to the family. How could she forget what she was reminded of everyday? Her life had been narrowed down to work at the cafe and Toby.
Now Giana did not wait for any season. For her, every season was good for business.
Christmas and Easter were good times when people poured in at the cafe. Business became a constant rush of continuous demands from the customers. The money was good. And Toby needed to go to school soon. She wanted to secure his future. Nothing else mattered anymore. She dreamed of owning a bakery some day and if possible a catering company. She was working towards it diligently. Last year the orders for cakes had doubled and they had catered for two elaborate weddings.
It had seemed insurmountable in the beginning. She had finished her graduation alongside. Her talent at baking had seen her through. With the baby on her hip and days of struggle, learning to be a mother, she had learnt how to swim against the tide.
It didn’t matter that her life was an empty shell because of the reckless love that she had once naively presumed reciprocated by Ricky. It didn’t matter that she felt terrible loneliness engulf her at times. Shame flowed deep at her own foolishness and the havoc it had caused in her family. She had been branded as the bad girl who had eloped. Now she was afraid that her son would hear it one day! So she was careful. Her behaviour reined in with utmost circumspection in the company of men.
Today, Giana had been made aware of the fact that she was still a woman with feelings. All that she had suppressed after Ricky’s betrayal had bubbled up in that brief moment when her eyes had collided with the dark male appraisal. Her entire being had hummed and sizzled for the first time in years at the close proximity of a man...what had Annabel called him? Maximillian? And she had fought the rising tide of sudden warmth and helplessness, curbing the sensations of awkwardness at the sight of the vast expanse of shoulders and lean hips, an athletic body that could beat down any man in seconds.
But what she had connected with instantly was the gentleness with which he had dealt with Toby. Her heart had ached at the reminder that her little son would never know a father who cared for him and protected him, or live with them and love his mother.
Then Carol had walked in and once more Giana had been shown what she had lost. In their tightly knit-community, minor indiscretions were considered unforgivable sins. But her loss was greater than just her reputation. She had lost her old self. The girl who danced in the rain, climbed trees, sang the loudest, fought the hardest and lived a full life had fallen silent. She had lost the fight. In her place had come a woman who lived in constant fear of being shamed. And the worst criticism had fallen like an axe on her neck from her own mother who never for a moment believed that she had changed.
Giana wiped her tears as they fell; finally, the pain poured out. Pride had prevented her from crying out in front of her mother. The damage must be paid for. And she was paying for it every day.
Two
“To-oby, eff! Mamma, favy!” carolled Toby, cheering his mother while pronouncing two new words that he had learned that day.
Dressed as a sprightly elf, he waved his sugar candy wand and took a crunchy bite from it. He shrieked at his mother who concentrated on defending the giant chocolate fondant and cream cake, shaped like a huge castle with chocolate turrets and tiny sugar fairies peeping out of them.
The little birthday guests were dressed as magical creatures, waving chocolate wands at her as they pranced around the cake. The children hollered and clapped, gathering around her. Giana stopped a particularly energetic gnome trying to swish his wand at the cake just in time. The parents gathered in another circle and chatted enthusiastically as she sliced neat pieces of the creamy confectionery and served them in plates.
The fairytale theme party at the posh hotel for the five-year-old birthday girl was a roaring success. Giana had been requested to deliver the multi-tiered decorative cake for the evening. The client, a customer of Carol had absolutely insisted on them wearing the theme costumes. So Giana and Annabel were reluctantly dressed as the blue and pink fairies respectively with their own sets of gauzy wings tucked away behind them.
“Now that the cake has been finally devoured by this army of elves and gnomes, let us escape!” cried Annabel, preventing Toby from poking into the remnants of chocolate windows of the cake castle.
Toby wriggled, disgruntled, when once again his attempts to topple the turrets remained unsuccessful as the cake became diminished in size. A war was brewing between three clashing peonies as their petals got tangled while dancing to the latest Tamil movie song. Giana laughed at the children’s antics, her face flushed with happiness to be with the kids and doing what she did best. The hostess had been high praise for the catering services rendered and Giana was expecting a good sum for it.
“Don’t let Toby out of your sight,” called out Giana to Annabel before wheeling the empty trolley out of the dining hall. “I’ll get the cheque from Mrs. Selvarajan!”
The children shrieked in delight, following her in a haphazard hopping train. She talked with the hostess for some time and came out fanning herself with the cheques and a triumphant gleam in her eyes.
Annabel and Sandeep whooped delightedly, “Congratulations to us!”
They did high-fives with each other and Toby patted Sandeep’s thigh imitating the elders. Sandeep picked Toby, held him high, and upended him, eliciting excited squeals.
“Sandy, if you hang him upside down, you would be wearing his half-digested dinner on your head!” admonished Giana.
Sandy shuddered at the prospect and unhanded Toby who protested being dumped into his mother’s arms unceremoniously.
“Okay! This party was a first because we d
id the party planning and the catering,” said Giana.
“Yes! I can see that you enjoyed interacting with people after a long time,” said Annabel in approval.
Giana smiled, knowing what her sister meant. “Thanks, Sandy, for all the help,” she said, turning to the young manager.
“Don’t thank me! I need my share in your party planning company when you become famous! I need extra payment for wearing this ridiculous Peter Pan costume!”
“What are you grumbling about? You look dashing in tights!” laughed Annabel, delivering a whack on his head when he gave a horrified look. “Did you have food?”
“Hardly ate a few bits! Did you see those monstrous kids? I was being hounded by the horde of elves while I served juice at the counter. They were pestering me to leap and fly like Peter Pan!”
Annabel exhaled, wiping a blob of cream from the fringe of short hair falling on her forehead. “One brat bit me on the backside while I was pacifying another with an iced lolly. Lucky he had no front teeth! Who would have thought that a kid’s party could become a perilous situation!” she exclaimed rubbing her rear, hearing Sandy chortle at that.
“I enjoyed myself!” said Giana, sparkling bliss in her eyes.
“You adore children!” complained Annabel, scooping up Toby who was trying to pluck the tassels on their fairy wings.
“So do you!” laughed Giana, prising a tuft of feathers from Toby’s hand which he was licking gingerly.
“I need to get back to my studies, ladies,” said Sandy disappointedly looking at his phone. “Carol just asked me to make a few home deliveries for the night because the delivery boys are handling the counter today.”
“You let me handle it!” offered Giana, looking at him affectionately even though she knew that it would be a daunting task to go to people’s house for food delivery against Carol’s wishes.
A year younger than Giana, Sandy had been like a brother to them since he had joined the cafe as a manager. Carol had agreed to employ him only because he was charging less than someone more qualified for the job would. He worked odd hours, even while pursuing higher studies in his spare time. He was smart, efficient and loyal which went a long way in his favour.
FLAWLESS Page 2
