Charlie Next Door

by Debashish Irengbam

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘That’s such a cute top. My mother has one just like it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘So where was I?’ she said, turning back to Charlie. ‘Yeah, so she just went like, totally crazy, and I was like, what’s up with you, you know…’

  Charlie started humming. Anupama knew the tune. It was the song he had hummed during their first shared elevator ride. Something about a khevaiya, if she could recall correctly.

  ‘Why are you singing?’ asked Madhu.

  ‘I just like this song.’

  ‘You’re such a weirdo. Seriously, aunty, how do you live next to this guy?’

  Anupama smiled tightly. ‘God alone knows.’

  The elevator reached the ground floor. Madhu turned to Charlie with a pouty look.

  ‘Babe, could you open the door please?’ she whined. ‘I just had my nails done.’

  And that was all the cuteness that Anupama could handle. She grabbed the steel handle, and wrenched the gates open with a force that shook the whole elevator.

  ‘Thank you, aunty!’ the creature cooed and teetered out on her stilts. Anupama held the door open for Charlie.

  ‘You first,’ he said.

  ‘That’s okay. You go.’

  ‘No, no, it’s fine.’

  ‘Charlie, go.’

  And so he went. Unfortunately, he had parked his bike outside, so she was doomed to share the walk up to the gates with the duo. However, she was saved the effort of having to make inane small talk with her new acquaintance because, as they stepped into the driveway, Madhu’s phone rang, and she plunged into an animated conversation with the caller in a tone that lay somewhere between horror and ecstasy, and interjected with a lot of ‘likes’.

  ‘Heard Nimit’s birthday is coming up,’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He called me.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’m thinking of coming over if it’s okay with you.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘You’re sure it’s not an issue, right?’ he asked pointedly.

  She shrugged. ‘All of his friends are coming. If you want to come, come.’

  His brows rose a bit at that. He actually looked hurt. For a moment, Anupama faltered in her resolve, feeling a twinge of guilt, when a high-pitched wail interrupted them.

  ‘Baaabe, which one’s your bike?’

  ‘It’s the Fazer!’ he called out.

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Never mind, I’m coming! I’ll see you then,’ he said to her, before hurrying over to the bikes parked in a row.

  ‘Bye, bye,’ said Anupama, but he was already out of earshot.

  A peculiar feeling came over her as she saw him trot over to Madhu and guide her towards his motorbike. She couldn’t quite place her finger on the emotion, mostly because she couldn’t – or rather, didn’t want to – but it seemed halfway between disappointment and annoyance. He would probably lend her the same floral raincoat that he had given her that fateful day, she thought. She noticed the old watchman staring at her from his cabin, his eyes enlarged and gawking behind his thick glasses. His gaze irritated her – blank yet assessing. She scowled at him and he hastily turned back to his intercom phone. Unfurling her umbrella, Anupama walked on, only to realize that she had forgotten what she had come down for. Not wanting to dither in front of the watchman who kept throwing suspicious glances her way, she resolutely made her way past the gates. By the time she stepped out onto the street, Charlie and his friend were gone.

  ‘Toilet paper,’ she muttered to herself, finally recollecting her errand.

  16

  The next morning, Anupama woke up to a raging fever and felt immensely grateful for it as it afforded her the best excuse to go incommunicado without raising too many questions from friends and family.

  For the next three days, she kept herself shut inside her bedroom, except when she had to step out for her meals with Misha and Nimit; the food supply mostly taken care of by an intricate neighbourhood delivery network overseen by Mrs Govindikar and her troupe of concerned homemakers, who took turns sending out Tupperware boxes full of whatever high-protein, low-carb delicacy they had prepared for the day (thanks to the shadow of the Monsoon Goddess pageant looming over most of them), which was followed by a return visit from their kids or domestic help to reclaim the cleaned containers. On two occasions, there were ‘Get Well Soon’ cards along with the deliveries, hand-drawn by one of the art ‘prodigies’ in the benefactor’s household. Both times, it had shown her depicted as a round-headed, smiling pencil-stick figure of a woman wearing a salwar kameez with her two smiling pencil-stick children figures playfully prancing beside her in a garden full of butterflies and daisies, while the smiling sun shone over them all. She wondered whether the format of the cards had also been predetermined by Mrs Govindikar.

  Her children, although visibly curious over her state, kept their queries to themselves. Misha, in particular, looked quite intrigued, and Anupama often caught her staring at her when she thought she wasn’t looking. Once or twice, she caught herself wondering whether Charlie knew about her indisposition, only to shake the thought away. It didn’t matter, she told herself.

  On the morning of the fourth day, the fever subsided completely, leaving her miserably refreshed and cured. She would have gladly faked illness for a few days more, had Renu and Neena not paid her an unexpected visit to fathom the reason for her failure to respond to their calls and messages. After a cursory check-up to confirm that everything was fine, they whisked her out for a surprise, ignoring her feeble protests.

  The rain was falling hard and erratically when they stepped out, their huge round umbrellas dangling above their heads as they made their way towards the gate. Halfway through, Anupama caught sight of the old society watchman staring at them from his cabin – or more specifically, at her. He had a peculiar look in his eyes, somewhere between fear and uncertainty. She didn’t have much time to think about it though, as Renu hustled her into her car and drove off with the sleekness of a secret service agent transporting a defector across the border.

  She didn’t even bother to ask her about their destination, for she knew that when Renu resolved to keep something secret, nothing and no one could pry it out of her. It was for this reason that Neena still laboured under an illusion of Rajeev as a good family man, and for that Anupama was thankful. Not that it had been easy to get Renu to swear to keep her mouth shut.

  The ride was as terrible as she had expected it to be and more. At every turn and intersection, they found long traffic jams, people who were drenched and too tired to honk, yet too annoyed to not do so occasionally. All along the way, Neena hummed cheerful tunes and did her utmost to make small talk with a barely-interested Anupama, while Renu cursed and ranted at every obstacle they met. It really was a horrible day to travel, especially if the aim was stress relief. The more graphic Renu’s profanity grew, the merrier Neena’s tunes became, in an attempt to counterbalance the mood of the outing. Not that it made a speck of a difference to Anupama, who gazed out of the window in stony silence. To be honest, she couldn’t quite understand why they were both so hell-bent on cheering her up in this drastic fashion. She had had down days before, and it had usually been confined to a pep-up phone talk or an impromptu tea visit, at the most. They knew she liked to have her space. In fact, if they really knew her, they would have taken the kids out instead and given her the privacy to curl up on the floor and stare at the underside of her sofa until her mind blanked out. And this time, there would have been no unexpected new neighbours to disturb her either. No one would have bothered her. No one.

  A few hours and a couple of random stops later, Anupama began to get a sneaking suspicion of the master plan. Renu was taking them to all their old haunts as collegians; the idea obviously being to relive their carefree days and rekindle the joy of youth within their souls. It was another matter that every spot they visited – from Abu Mastana’s kulfi stall to the local t
heatre to the chai tapri near Pedder road – had either shut down, collapsed or gotten demolished and renovated into a residential complex. The final result was that rather than feeling young again, they got to realize just how much time had slipped by, and how ancient and outdated they had become – a thought that ended up depressing the other two as well, while Anupama tried to remember just how much cough syrup was left in her medicine bottle back home. Would she need to buy a refill on the way?

  It was a sombre group that made its way back to her building at around ten in the night. Anupama thanked them both for the lovely day and courteously invited them upstairs for tea just as a formality, and was relieved when they refused.

  She entered her home to find another surprise waiting for her. Misha had made dinner. Maggie noodles with boiled veggies and scrambled eggs. The eggs were cold and the veggies slightly undercooked, but Anupama was grateful all the same. The kids seemed to be rather attentive and pampering towards her too, which made her even gladder. So glad was she, in fact, that it almost made her suspicious. She had fallen sick a couple of times before – much sicker than she had been over the past few days – and yet never had the pleasure of witnessing such unexpected feats of kindness. And what with the sudden nostalgia tour organized by her friends, the timing just seemed too serendipitous to be a coincidence. Still, as long as things remained idyllic, who was she to complain? The answer, if any, would come to her sooner or later anyway, so she might as well just enjoy the moment while it lasted.

  Later, out of habit, she logged on to her Facebook account before going to bed. And that was when the reason for all the tender, loving care became as clear as day. Her euphoria drained away in an instant.

  Her page was alive with two status updates from her kids, each wishing their late father a very happy birthday, and hoping that his soul was resting in peace.

  It was Rajeev’s birthday today.

  Her children had assumed that she was depressed because she missed having him around on this, his special day. That it had made her feel so low that she fell ill. And so did her friends.

  Poor old Anu. Pining for her lost soulmate. Longing for their times together. Pining for him. Loving him. And wasting away.

  And somewhere, in that fifth dimension, she probably was lamenting her loss. Maybe in that parallel universe she hadn’t made out with the young man next door on an impulse and gotten ill obsessing over it, oblivious to everything else, including her late husband’s birthday. Conceivably in that world, at this very moment, both her perceived and actual realities were in perfect alignment, and things were actually making sense.

  Anupama longed for that world. She would have given anything to be there. But she wasn’t. She was here. Alone. Lost.

  Suddenly, the world around her, everything she knew, seemed so alien and incoherent. Her heart lurched with a fear she couldn’t quite place. She had felt lonely before, but she had never felt this … disoriented. It was like she had just woken up to discover that her entire life had been someone else’s dream. That she herself had been a figment of her imagination, seeking the truth within a reality that never existed. Why was everything so wrong? Why didn’t anyone know her? Or was it the other way around? Were they the ones who were right, and she, the one who needed to get a grip? Was their perspective of Anupama the true version of her? Then why didn’t it feel right at all? Why couldn’t she persuade herself to be who everyone thought she was? Wouldn’t that be simpler? Wouldn’t that be right?

  She could feel the unmistakeable onset of a panic attack, and that scared her even more. She felt choked, suffocated. The walls seemed to be closing in on her. She had to get out right now. She had to talk to someone, anyone. Someone who would listen, just listen, and not judge her. Someone who didn’t, or at least thought he didn’t know the real her. A stranger, perhaps. A stranger she could trust, if ever there was such an oxymoron. Her mind frantically grappled with these turbulent thoughts, even though a part of her had already arrived at the answer she sought, like a long-forgotten instinct. Her head refused to accept it of course, but it was there.

  She had promised herself she wouldn’t go to him. She couldn’t go to him, not after all that had transpired. Besides, wasn’t he the reason for all this chaos in the first place? Damn him. No. Anyone but him.

  Five minutes later, she found herself walking up the stairs to the terrace in her nightgown, half-dazed, half-intrigued, still wondering whether this was real. Even if it wasn’t, she was curious to see where it would all lead to. Her heart beat wild against her ribs, in sync with the aggressive hammering of the rain outside. She wondered whether he would actually be up there in this weather. The terrace door was wide open; the topmost steps gleamed wetly with the rainwater. She took a deep breath and resolutely walked up.

  Charlie was perched on the ledge with his back to her, holding a huge umbrella above him. Tiny tendrils of smoke from his joint emerged from the cover of his umbrella and dissipated into the rain.

  She stood rooted to the spot in the doorway, as she tried to evaluate the consequences of the next few steps. She could turn back at this moment and he would never know. No one would. Her routine would return to normal, as would her stability. Life would go back to being the same that it had been all these years. With Rajeev. Without Rajeev.

  The same. The exact fucking same.

  She took a step forward, then another, feeling the cold rain wash over her with torrential force. For the first time, she wasn’t afraid of getting wet. The feeling comforted her rather.

  It took Charlie a few moments to notice her standing behind him, soaked to the skin.

  ‘Mrs Arora?’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Anupama,’ she corrected softly.

  He quickly tilted his umbrella to shield her, but she moved it away. He asked her if she was okay, and she shook her head.

  ‘You may fall ill again,’ said Charlie, the worry deepening on his face.

  So, although he knew she had been unwell, he hadn’t bothered to contact her; but wasn’t that exactly what she had asked of him? She had lost him for good. Just like she had wanted. Her strength left her, as did her restraint. The rain camouflaged her tears, but not the trembling of her lips or the sadness in her face.

  ‘Hey, hey,’ said Charlie, getting up and embracing her. She pressed herself against the warmth of his body. She knew she was making his T-shirt wet, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was about a foot taller than her. His skin on the side of his neck on her forehead was as soft as she remembered it, slightly bristly at the point where his stubble ended. Slowly, she raised herself on tiptoe, her eyes shut, gently running the tip of her nose against his cheek, until they were both at eye level. She opened her eyes. Charlie was staring at her with an expression that mirrored her own feelings. The umbrella was no longer in his hand and now he was just as wet as she was. Neither of them cared.

  The moment hung between them for one delicious instant; the tension between them an almost tangible entity now, breathing, waiting, coaxing them on.

  And then their lips touched. A shudder passed through Anupama as she submitted herself completely to the overpowering onslaught of her senses – the sensation of Charlie’s warm breath upon hers, the feel of his lips, the taste of his mouth mingled with the raindrops trickling in between them. The world had not existed before this, and if it had, it had been a poor parody. A travesty. An illusion. Suddenly, everything was real. She was real. That was what it was. She had been alive for a long time now, but for the first time in her life, she felt real.

  She didn’t know how many seconds or minutes the kiss lasted, but when they drew apart, she knew one thing for sure. Something had changed inside her forever. Her tears continued to flow, but their essence had changed. There was no more misery left inside her, just the soothing hollowness of relief.

  Her fingers still clasped behind his neck, Anupama gazed up at Charlie, at the loving tenderness in his beautiful grey-green-hazel eyes that percolated into the depths of her soul.
Mrs Govindikar was right. She wasn’t just a woman anymore. She was a human, a soul, a wanderer, a lover.

  She loved this man. She wanted him like she had never wanted anything in her life. It didn’t make sense, and it didn’t have to, for that was a truth that would never change whether she accepted it or not.

  ‘I think I’m in love with you,’ said Charlie.

  And Anupama just smiled.

  Gradually, like the fragmented remnants of a fading dream, the surroundings began to impress themselves upon her. The rain had slowed down to a drizzle. She became aware of her wet nightclothes clinging to her skin, the chill in the air, Charlie’s umbrella lying forgotten by the terrace wall … and beyond the terrace wall, down below, the old watchman peering up at them from his cabin by the entrance gates, his glasses unmistakably trained up towards them.

  Anupama froze, more out of surprise than fear. In a flash, she understood the secret behind Mrs Govindikar’s omniscience. Her spy at the gates. No wonder he wasn’t able to look her in the eye this morning. She waited for the old man to avert his eyes sheepishly, but he didn’t. He seemed to be looking right at her, at them. Charlie followed her gaze and immediately saw the old man. ‘Oh crap!’ He glanced back at her anxiously. ‘Should we—’

  ‘Kill him?’ asked Anupama, half-jokingly.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I … don’t know.’

  Anupama turned back to see that the watchman continued to stare at them insolently. Fine, two could play at that game. The zone she was in right now permitted no panic or concern. She felt indestructible. Besides, the damage, if any, was done already, might as well reap its benefits. Charlie’s eyes widened as she drew him closer.

  ‘You know what they say,’ she said. ‘Whether you commit one murder or two…’

  Twenty minutes later, she was lying on Charlie’s futon, spent and exhausted.

  Their lovemaking had been frantic, clumsy, erratic and pleasurable in a way that made her toes curl. She could still feel the trail his lips had followed across her entire body, the firmness of his fingers as he held her close to his body, the hard yet yielding fluidity of his muscles – his limbs, his chest – the pace and frenzy of his movements that almost seemed feral … For the first time in her life, she had had two orgasms in a row – a fictional fantasy that she thought was limited to the adult entertainment industry. She had sighed, she had moaned, she had even screamed at one point, clutching him for dear life, and through it all Charlie had been with her, one with her, carrying her along on a dizzying trip of newer and newer heights of ecstasy from which she never wanted to return.