The Seven Steps to Closure

by Donna Joy Usher

  ‘What to protect you?’ he asked laughing.

  ‘No, to make sure I don’t make a fool of myself and scare you away. You know I’m over thirty now. I’ve got a better chance of being killed in a terrorist attack than meeting an available man.’ I stopped as I realised what I had just said. ‘Hey, I almost did that,’ I said.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ I said to Matt, who was standing there smiling and shaking his head at me, ‘I got us some tea.’

  ‘Marsala?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You’re a mind reader.’

  After the porter had left we relaxed on our prospective beds sipping our tea.

  ‘How’s the writing going?’ I asked.

  ‘Good. Not really much to write about yet. I’m roughing in a storyline, trying to get a unique angle.’

  ‘I can imagine that would be difficult. I mean this must be one of the most written about places in the world.’

  ‘Yeah, one of them.’

  ‘So what’s your angle?’ I asked curiously.

  ‘Haven’t got one yet, but it will come to me – it always does.’

  I let out a huge yawn.

  ‘Have I been keeping you up?’ he asked, looking at his watch.

  ‘No, it’s only 9pm. Anyway I told you I could compete for Australia in sleeping. If I get tired I’ll just go to sleep.’

  ‘With the lights on?’

  ‘With the lights on, so don’t worry about me. You do what you need to do.’

  ‘I’m finished for the night anyway.’ He also let out a huge yawn.

  ‘It must be all that fresh air making us tired,’ I said laughing.

  ‘Either that or coating our lungs, depriving us of oxygen and making us sleepy,’ he said smiling.

  ‘More likely that,’ I agreed.

  Grabbing my toothbrush and bottle of water I headed for the bathroom. I was determined not to go getting any Delhi Belly in front of Matt. God, can you imagine?

  I jumped into bed while I heard Matt in the shower and tried unsuccessfully not to think about his long, tanned, lean body with water cascading down it. I was a bit jumpy by the time he came out of the bathroom and all of a sudden realised we were sleeping in the same room. Well of course it wasn’t the first time I realised it, but the full importance of it hit me. What if I snored? What if I talked in my sleep? Or worse, what if I farted? The myriad of ways in which I could cause extreme embarrassment to myself without even knowing it were endless. I thought I would lie awake the whole night – but one minute I was lying there staring at the ceiling, and the next I was waking to light streaming in the window and the sound of Matt back in the shower. It was a little disorientating. I closed my eyes and was quickly sound asleep once again.

  * * *

  ‘Tara, Tara.’

  I could hear my name being called and dimly feel someone shaking me. I clawed my way upwards towards consciousness and opened my bleary eyes.

  ‘Wow,’ said a familiar voice, ‘you really could sleep for Australia.’

  ‘Matt?’

  ‘The one and only.’

  ‘Is that coffee I smell? Cause, I’m only opening my eyes if there’s coffee.’

  ‘Open your eyes sleepy head. I have coffee and some fruit and pastries.’

  ‘Oh goody.’ I opened my eyes and sat bolt upright in bed.

  Matt had obviously been up for a while. I helped myself to my coffee and a pastry.

  ‘First,’ he said, ‘I was trying to be really quiet, tiptoeing around and everything. And then I accidentally let the bathroom door slam and I thought that would wake you for sure.’

  ‘It would have to be something more substantial than a door slamming,’ I said around a mouthful of pastry.

  ‘Yeah I figured. So then, I started trying to wake you – talking loudly on my phone, opening the cupboard doors and closing them hard. Man you didn’t even flinch.’

  ‘What time is it?’ I asked him, concerned I’d slept through the day.

  ’9am.’

  ‘Oh thank God. I thought it might be midday or something like that.’

  ‘You had twelve hours sleep. ‘

  ‘I’ll be right for the night markets tonight. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready to go,’ I told him as I headed to the bathroom with my coffee.

  True to my word fifteen minutes later, I was dressed and ready to rock and roll.

  ‘When you said fifteen minutes, I was thinking more like an hour,’ said Matt.

  ‘Yeah I’ve never understood what takes some women so long to get ready,’ I said as we headed out the door. ‘I mean really, shower, dry, moisturise, deodorise, put your clothes on, brush your teeth and comb your hair. How long can you make that last? Admittedly,’ I said, ‘I don’t look as good as the women who take an hour to get ready, but seriously I wouldn’t want to. If I had to spend an hour getting ready every time I went somewhere, I wouldn’t bother leaving the house. I mean for a special occasion or a date, well of course you want to look your best. But day-to-day, all you need is a whip of lipstick and some eyeliner. Then again, Jake used to complain that I didn’t spend enough time on myself. He said it looked like I didn’t care about him if I went out without a full face of makeup. I never really understood the logic behind that.’

  ‘Yeah, but we established yesterday that Jake is a complete ass.’

  ‘Yes we did, didn’t we?’ I laughed. ‘I have to admit, the makeup thing was a relief when we broke up. I didn’t wear makeup at all for about 9 months. But that was probably because I was too depressed.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Matt laughing, ‘you’re like a wind up doll in the morning. I woke you up and you haven’t stopped talking since.’

  ‘Hey. That’s not true. I wasn’t talking while I cleaned my teeth.’

  ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘you were. It was pretty disgusting.’

  ‘Was I? I’m not normally like this in the morning.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No. I don’t normally start talking till about ten-thirty. Up to then I just grunt and nod. I wonder how much caffeine was in that coffee.’

  ‘Obviously a lot.’

  Matt pulled over a tuk tuk driver and started chatting to him. After a few minutes, he gestured for me to jump in and introduced me.

  ‘This is Fahad. Fahad this is Tara. Tara and I have been married for a couple of years Fahad so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to hit on her.’

  Fahad let out a loud, deep chuckle. He turned around to look at me and I realised he sounded and looked like an Indian version of Fat Albert.

  ‘No worries Mr Matt,’ he boomed. ‘I look after your wife like she was one of my sisters.’ He hit the accelerator pedal and we shot off into the traffic.

  ‘Would you mind telling me what that was all about?’ I stage whispered to Matt out of the corner of my mouth.

  ‘Some of these men can be a little frisky with their hands, just making sure.’

  ‘What about the man that drove us around yesterday?

  ‘Well, if you noticed he wasn’t very friendly. I could make you my sister next time if you prefer?’

  Damn. He had check mated me, and I bet he knew it. I was pretty chuffed at the thought of pretending to be his wife, I certainly didn’t want to be downgraded to a sister. But then if I admitted that to him I was pretty much telling him that I fancied him. Let’s face it though, I would have to be a deaf, dumb, blind, mute with no sense of smell, and no imagination to not fancy him. But did he know that? Did he realise just how desirable he was? I was guessing the answer to that was no.

  All of that flitted through my head at the speed of light and then I found a loophole in his theory. ‘Better not make me your sister,’ I said quietly, ‘then Fahad could still hit on me.’

  Matt nodded his head as if considering this seriously, but I could see a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

  ‘Mr Matt, Mrs Tara,’ said Fahad, looking at us
in the rear vision mirror, ‘where do you want to go first?’

  ‘Well,’ said Matt to the mirror, ‘we want to go to the Lotus Temple and the Lodi Gardens. Is there somewhere there that is good for lunch?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he continued, in his singsong Fat Albert voice, ‘the Garden Restaurant at Lodi. They do very good Indian food there.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Yes, very good Sir,’ said Fat Fahad. ‘We’ll go to the Lotus Temple first. It is very beautiful Maam,’ he informed me.

  I was wishing – just quietly – that he would watch the road a little more, and the rear vision mirror quite a bit less so I didn’t respond. I just nodded, hoping he would get the hint and start watching where we were going.

  He spent the next 30 minutes practicing his English while driving haphazardly through the streets of Delhi. Finally, he pulled over at the side of the road near some street vendors.

  ‘There,’ he said waving his hand, ‘the Lotus Temple. I wait here for you.’

  Matt handed him a note and told him to get himself a drink. Fat Fahad was happy with that and after helping me out of the tuk tuk, took himself off to the street vendors.

  I stepped around to the other side of the tuk tuk and got my first view of the Lotus Temple.

  ‘My,’ I said.

  ‘Is that it?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Wow. Is that better?’

  ‘A little.’

  After having driven through the built up suburbs of Delhi, the vast expanse of manicured lawn and trimmed hedges were impressive enough, but in the midst of them, opening like a giant white flower, was the Lotus Temple.

  ‘What sort of Temple is it?’ I asked Matt as I fumbled around in my bag for the Lonely Planet.

  ‘It’s a Baha’i Place of Worship,’ he informed me.

  I was thinking he was pretty clever until I saw a sign just near the entrance gate to the garden that said, ‘Baha’i Place of Worship.’

  I stood and admired the beauty of the giant flower before me, while Matt took photos of the Temple, the vendors and the crowds.

  ‘The Bahai philosophy revolves around universal peace and elimination of prejudice,’ I read as we began the walk down the long pathway to the Temple. ‘No speaking is allowed inside the temple,’ I advised him.

  ‘Has your caffeine hit worn off yet?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so why?’

  ‘I’m not taking you into a temple where speaking is not permissible unless it has.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I assured him.

  We began to queue as we approached the temple and I realised everybody was taking off their shoes. ‘I’m not taking off my shoes,’ I whispered to Matt.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘What if someone steals them?’

  ‘Look, you hand them to that lady and she gives you a number for them,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘You’ll be fine. Trust me.’

  I took off my trusty reef sandals and handed them to the lady who gave me a wooden token in return. Then we headed up the steps and into the Temple. I must admit I had expected there would be more to the interior. I mean the sweeping ceiling was certainly spectacular in its flowery form, but the temple was just a large room with heaps of fold out chairs. There were a sprinkling of people sitting in the chairs in silent contemplation. Of course as soon as we were inside the Temple, I had an urge to start talking. It was like an itch that I couldn’t scratch. I could feel the pressure building inside me, threatening to come out as a huge bellow. I looked at Matt who smiled at me smugly and held one finger up to his lips in the universal sign of silence. I had an urge to hold up a different finger, in a different way, for a very different universal sign. We shuffled slowly around the edge of the Temple until finally we were free. I let out a huge explosion of air and took a huge breath.

  ‘Did you breathe at all while you were in there?’ Matt asked. ‘You’ve gone all red.’

  ‘That was terrible,’ I exclaimed, ‘as soon as I couldn’t talk I had the hugest urge to start yabbering at you. And now of course I have no idea what was so important that I had to say.’

  ‘Guess that caffeine’s still working its way out of your system,’ Matt said chuckling. ‘Come on let’s get our shoes and visit the information centre.’

  We headed back to the shoe storage area where I handed my little token to the lady. She promptly handed me a pair of shoes. The only problem was they weren’t my shoes.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said trying to back up in the queue and get her attention. There were, however, an overwhelming large number of women all trying to get their shoes, and I found myself being jostled further and further from the front row.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Matt, coming over to see what was taking me so long.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, looking down at his feet, ‘that’d be right. You get the correct shoes, of course you do. Look what I got.’ I dropped the shoes to the ground and shoved the front half of my feet as far into the teeny golden sandals as they would go. ‘What do you think?’ I said as I tottered around.

  Matt shook his head. ‘Unbelievable,’ he said. ‘Why do I get the feeling that these sorts of things always happen to you?’

  ‘Why do you think I didn’t want to hand my shoes over?’ I asked in response.

  Matt laughed and held out his hand. ‘Hand em over,’ he said and waded back through the crowd of women to the shoe lady. I could see him gesturing and pointing at me and then he filled out what appeared to be a form before finally heading back.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said in relief, holding out my hand for my shoes.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said sheepishly as he deposited the gold sandals back in my hand.

  ‘Nhhooooooo.’

  ‘You’re not going to believe it,’ he said.

  ‘Oh yes I think I am,’ I said. ‘Let me guess. She gave them to a small Indian lady?’

  ‘She gave them to a small Indian lady. I filled out a form though. They said they’d post them to us if they turned up.’

  I shut my eyes and started counting to ten. And then I remembered Mumbai. ‘Well I think we both know the chances of that happening are somewhere between zilch and impossible but it’s okay,’ I said as I reopened my eyes. ‘I’ll just have to get some more.’

  ‘I’ll get you a new pair,’ said Matt.

  ‘Why should you get me a new pair?’ I asked confused.

  ‘Cause I’m the one that told you to hand them over,’ he said.

  ‘But we didn’t have a choice,’ I argued.

  ‘I said to trust me.’

  ‘You’re serious aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Matt, I am not letting you buy me new shoes. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.’

  ‘Weeelll, at least let me buy you lunch.’

  ‘Fine. I never say no to someone buying me lunch,’ I conceded graciously.

  We had been heading back to the information centre as we argued and were stopped at the door by a well-garbed security man.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, wobbling his head from side to side as he talked, ‘but I cannot be letting you in like that.’

  ‘Like what?’ I asked.

  ‘You be having no shoes on,’ he informed me.

  ‘Really?’ I asked sarcastically. ‘Well that would be because one of your fellow employees gave them away,’ I informed him.

  ‘Oh deary, deary me. That is indeed a shame,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, big shame. Now, are you going to let us in or not?’

  ‘If it was up to me madam,’ he continued with the head waggling, ‘I would let you in. But unfortunately it is not.’

  I looked around. There didn’t seem to be anyone else who was in charge here.

  ‘Well, who is it up to?’ I asked stupidly.

  The man waggled his head a little and looked up to the heavens. I looked up as well, trying to find an office where the person in charge was working. I spun slowly around looking up for
someone, somewhere, but it was a single storey building.

  ‘Tara,’ Matt whispered, ‘I think he means God.’

  I started to giggle. ‘Are you talking about God?’ I asked him.

  ‘The one and only,’ he informed me gravely.

  I backed away from him dragging Matt with me. ‘I’m confused,’ I whispered. ‘I thought the Indians had multiple Gods.’

  ‘Not the Baha’i,’ he whispered back. ‘They’re monotheistic.’

  ‘Meaning?’ I asked, feeling a little stupid.

  ‘They believe in one God.’

  ‘Oh.’ I thought about it for a moment. ‘So how do they differ from Christians or Muslims?’ I asked.

  ‘They believe that the major religions are part of a progressive revelation from God, and that all the major figures, like Buddha, Jesus and Mohammed are sent by God to guide the world’s spiritual development.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, dropping the gold sandals to the ground and shoving my toes into them. ‘Do you think God would be happy with this?’ I asked, turning back to the security guard.

  He broke into a huge smile of relief. ‘Oh yes madam,’ he said, ‘God is very happy with that.’ And he opened the door for us.

  I shuffled through in my dainty gold sandals with Matt following me, his face screwed up with his attempts not to laugh.

  ‘If you laugh,’ I warned him, ‘I’m going to get God to throw you out.’

  I navigated to the first display and started to read about the Bahai beliefs. Matt finally regained control of himself and joined me there.

  ‘Hey, what’s with all the head waggling?’ I asked him.

  ‘It’s a cultural thing.’

  ‘It’s hypnotic. I felt like he was trying to exercise his mind powers on me through his head waggles.’

  ‘I think you might be onto something there. The head waggle could actually be a form of hypnosis.’

  ‘Did I bark like a dog?’

  ‘No, but you ran around clucking like a chicken.’

  I laughed out loud earning a look of intense annoyance from some browsers nearby. ‘Oh,’ I whispered to Matt, ‘I didn’t realise we weren’t allowed to talk in here either.’