[2012] The Seven Steps to Closure

by Donna Joy Usher

  ‘That’s all right; I’ve got a book to read as well.’ I pulled out the book I had been advised to buy by the pimply, little book clerk at that airport, thanking God I had let him talk me into it. He had raved that it was the best book he had ever read and I really wouldn’t regret carting it around India.

  As I opened up the cover Matt glanced over to see what I was reading. ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ I asked alarmed. Did I have a spider on me somewhere? I frantically checked my shirt.

  ‘Look.’ He held his book up so I could see the cover. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. It was the same book I had purchased.

  I smiled at him and flicked open to the first page. ‘I hear it’s very good,’ I advised him, ‘and that everybody who’s anybody is reading it. And you can quote me on that.’ As he laughed, I made a mental note to find the pimply book clerk youth and give him a large gift.

  After a few glasses of wine, I fell asleep and woke with a start wondering where the hell I was. I hoped I hadn’t been snoring. Matt was still reading beside me, and I decided to duck off to the toilets to check on my make-up and hair. I was almost back at my seat when Matt glanced up at me and started laughing. It couldn’t be a bad case of bed head, I had just checked it in the bathroom. Did I have a bogey hanging out of my nose? No, I would have seen that. In the end it turned out that he was extremely amused by the ‘I Love Edward’ t-shirt I was wearing.

  ‘My Mum has one too,’ I told him coldly as I regained my seat.

  That had only made him laugh harder.

  The rest of the flight passed quickly. Probably because I nodded off again and slept through most of it. Finally, the crew announced our descent into Mumbai and we were off the plane and heading through customs. Matt and I walked in silence until we cleared customs.

  ‘Where are you staying?’ he asked me.

  ‘With an old friend,’ I said, not wanting him to know who I was staying with. I didn’t have time to explain the current situation I found myself in.

  ‘Here’s my card,’ he said, handing it to me, ‘don’t lose this one. Maybe we can catch up when we’re both back in Sydney.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ I said, disappointed I would have to wait till then.

  ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘Not sure, my friend is still working tomorrow.’

  ‘Well,’ he said smiling, ‘do you want to meet up and I’ll show you a bit of Mumbai.’

  I tried to restrain the broadness of my smile but I could feel it threatening to crack my face in two. ‘That would be lovely,’ I said, as I spied an Indian man outside the terminal holding a card with my name on it. Jesse had sent his driver to pick me up.

  ’11am at the Gateway to India,’ said Matt. ‘Call me if you can’t make it.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be there,’ I assured him. Hell, I’d be there if it meant walking through a pit of snakes to get there.

  ‘See you then.’ I smiled back at him as I followed my driver to the car.

  * * *

  There were people everywhere. People in cars, people on foot, people on bikes. Cars were jammed together moving along the road with seemingly no order, and yet amazingly, there was not the sound of metal on metal I kept expecting. I shoved my right foot into the floor for the umpteenth time in an attempt to stop the car, as yet another daredevil driver on a motorbike dashed through the traffic directly in front of us. The sound of car horns was continuous. It seemed that everybody drove with one hand on the wheel and one on the horn.

  We had been driving for 45 minutes and I was finally starting to relax. Initially it had been a combination of the terror of dying in a terrible car accident, combined with the fear of this not being my driver that had caused my tension. I mean what if someone associated with the illegal sex trade had mugged my driver and I was about to unwittingly start a new occupation? I shuddered at the thought.

  I took some calming breaths in and out and watched the scenery flick past the window. It was so different from what I was used to. Sydney was clean in comparison. Clean and yet strangely sterile – everywhere here there was something interesting to see; women washing clothes, children skipping and playing, people preparing food on fires, goats and cows just hanging around. And everywhere the bright colours of their clothing stood out in stark contrast against the browns and greys of the city.

  After an hour and a quarter of driving – some of which involved dodging cows resting in the middle of the road, and a lot of which involved sitting still in traffic while my driver held his hand on the horn – we burst from the sprawl of suburbia to a road arching around a bay. My feeling of claustrophobia began to diminish as I watched the vast expanse of water disappearing into the distance.

  ‘Not far now,’ my driver informed me.

  Fifteen minutes later, we turned up a little side street and stopped outside a building, before walking up three flights of stairs to what I desperately hoped was Jesse’s apartment and not my new home as a prostitute. The driver knocked on the door, which opened, and there on the other side was Jesse. I fell into his welcome embrace.

  ‘It’s so good to see you,’ he said, when we’d finished hugging, ‘I can’t believe you’re here in India with me. When was the last time we caught up?’

  ‘Ummmm, I think it was Christmas two years ago. Far too long.’ I gave him another hug.

  ‘Wow. Time travels fast,’ he said. ‘Here bring your stuff through to your room.’

  He grabbed my bag and carried it into a room opening off the lounge. There were two single beds in it. ‘Is this all right?’ he asked. ‘I could push them together and make it a double if you want.’

  ‘I prefer them apart. I once spent a whole night trapped between two single beds. I suspect Lil had something to do with that.’

  Jesse laughed, ‘How is Lil?’

  ‘Pregnant.’

  ‘Again? What is this, number five?’

  ‘Number seven,’ I corrected him.

  He whistled, ‘Seven. Don’t tell me?’

  ‘Yep, all girls.’

  He shook his head in disbelief before continuing, ‘And Bert and Bet?’

  ‘Really good thanks. Mum’s still bringing home crazy pets. I am now the proud owner of a nymphomaniac hare.’

  Still laughing about my nymphomaniac hare, he showed me where to store my things and then he asked me the magic question. ‘Do you want to have a shower before we head out to dinner?’

  ‘Ooh, yes please,’ I said. In reality, it hadn’t been that long since I’d showered, but after such a long flight and the drive in the heat I was feeling pretty disgusting. ‘Is this the shower in here?’ I asked, looking into a room containing a toilet and a basin. There was a shower nozzle sticking randomly out of the wall next to the toilet.

  ‘Yes. Best to leave the toilet seat down while you shower,’ he said. ‘Oh and don’t forget to wear these while you’re in the bathroom. There’s a bit of an electrical current running through the walls and things can get a little hairy if you don’t.’ He handed me a pair of rubber thongs.

  I looked at him with my eyebrows riding so far up my face I could feel them disappearing into my fringe. He didn’t start laughing and punch me on the shoulder and say ‘Gotcha’, like I was really hoping he would.

  ‘You’re serious.’

  ‘Deadly serious.’

  ‘Okey Dokey,’ I said bravely.

  Five minutes later, I was standing in the door to the bathroom, wearing only the rubber thongs. I had been standing there for four of the last five minutes, too scared to enter. I lifted my left foot and gingerly touched it down on the bathroom floor. When nothing happened I rested my full weight on it – still nothing. So far so good, now for the right foot. I advanced slowly into the room all the while waiting for an electric shock. Reaching out, I lightly rested the back of my hand against the tap, squeezing my eyes shut at the last second in anticipation and fear. I opened them slowly as I realised I was still alive. Things wer
e looking promising. I turned on the water and cautiously stepped under it, but the feel of the warm water rushing over me was divine and I immediately relaxed. Mmmm, I could stay in here forever.

  ‘Tara,’ I heard Jesse yell through the closed door.

  ‘What?’ I yelled back.

  ‘Don’t drop the soap.’

  All feelings of relaxation gone, I washed as quickly as I could with an iron grip on the soap and emerged from my room feeling human again. I positioned the rubber thongs in the middle of the door to the bathroom and after some consideration placed a chair there as well so I wouldn’t forget in the middle of the night.

  Jesse was sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine in one hand, looking handsome and relaxed. It was a good thing that he and Jake weren’t identical twins. Where Jake was dark, Jesse was light, with golden blonde hair and freckly skin. He smiled when he saw me and poured me a glass of wine. ‘I know you prefer white,’ he said, holding the glass out to me, ‘but trust me, in India stick to the red.’

  I took the glass from him and wandered around the room looking at his things. ‘Shabby chic,’ I said approvingly.

  Jesse’s furniture was an eclectic mix of beautiful Indian and Asian woodcraft. The shabby part was the walls. Cracks ran haphazardly through the creamy plasterwork, yet through the soft glow of his lamps it looked cosy, not creepy. The one piece of modern furniture he owned was the huge couch on which he currently reclined.

  ‘Who is she?’ I asked, nodding at a photo of a pretty lady.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘that’s Tahlia.’

  ‘Details, I need details,’ I demanded. ‘What does she do? Where is she from? How old is she? How long have you been dating? When do I get to meet her?’

  ‘She’s a journalist, from England. She’s 32 and we’ve been dating for 5 months, but I’ve known her for about eighteen. I thought just the two of us could go out to dinner tonight and then tomorrow night I’ll introduce you to some friends of mine.’

  ‘Sounds great.’

  I snuggled back into the lounge and sighed, luxuriating in the feeling of being on holidays and at the start of an adventure.

  ‘Sorry I can’t spend tomorrow with you,’ he said.

  ‘That’s fine,’ I said, smiling inwardly as I thought of my plans tomorrow. I’m not sure why I didn’t mention it to him. Part of me didn’t want him to think I was a desperate slut. But the real reason I didn’t tell him was because it was still far too delicate to discuss. Yeah, we had shagged. But that had been meaningless. Now we were in the meaningful part of the department store and it was a whole different ball game. I felt as if this almost non-existent thing we had between us might disappear if I talked about it too soon. A little like a fragile artefact that would disintegrate into nothingness if it were handled too much.

  ‘I thought I’d go into town and do all the touristy things.’ I waved Dinah’s Lonely Planet in the air, which was littered with bookmarks.

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ he said nodding. ‘Where do you want to go after that?’

  ‘I’m not sure. What were you thinking?’

  ‘Well we could go north to Rajasthan, or we could go south and do some safaris.’

  ‘Safaris? I thought that was just an African thing.’

  ‘We do have elephants and tigers you know.’

  ‘I guess you do,’ I said laughing. I stopped to think about his question. ‘Do I have to make up my mind now?’ I finally asked.

  ‘No. But the day after tomorrow we’ll have to start organising things. Are you hungry?’

  My stomach chose that precise moment to let out a huge rumble.

  ‘Guess so,’ he said, climbing up and extending a hand to me. ‘Come on let’s get dinner.’

  A few hours later I collapsed into bed stuffed and exhausted. I would like to say that I sighed with the pleasure of lying down, but the bed was as hard as a rock. Christ, what did they make their mattresses out of? I spent the next 10 minutes trying to get comfortable before I gave up and headed for the lounge.

  ‘I’m sleeping on the lounge,’ I called out to Jesse.

  ‘You’ll be sorry.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  Thirty minutes later, I was heading back into the bedroom.

  ‘Told you,’ he yelled smugly.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s an alarm on the elevator. It plays if the door is left open.’

  ‘It plays Here comes the Bride?’ I clarified.

  ‘Yep. Annoying isn’t it.’

  ‘I’m taking the cushions,’ I informed him.

  Finally, I snuggled into the ornately embroidered cushions I had layered onto my bed, and sighed in comfort. Jesse had taken me to an Indian seafood restaurant where the food had been fantastic. Just thinking about the garlic crab made my mouth water. Well, if nothing else, I was sure I was going to love the food in India.

  As I drifted off to sleep I reminded myself, ‘Don’t forget the rubber thongs.’

  That was the last thing I knew until the morning.

  * * *

  I woke with a start, struggling to find my watch and wondering where the hell I was and what had woken me.

  ‘Thank God,’ I moaned, looking at the time.

  It was 8.30am. I must have heard Jesse departing for work. I had been terrified I had slept through my meeting time with Matt. That would be terrible. First I don’t ring him and then I stand him up.

  Jesse had informed me it should take 25 minutes to get to the Gateway of India in a cab. He had warned me to be careful of the cabbies ripping me off, (no big surprise there), and to make sure I ask to see the tables that convert the old method of meterage to the new method. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that but when we arrived at my destination the cab driver waved his hand at the meter hanging off the side of the car. The little box showed a big five and a little 60. I assumed he was asking for 560 rupees.

  ‘The table,’ I said. He looked at me like I was a little simple and waved his hand around again. ‘No. The sheet,’ I insisted, holding out my hand in return.

  Mumbling under his breath, he dug around on his front seat and finally handed me a crumpled piece of cardboard, which had large numbers down one side and little ones on the other. I found the 560 and ran my finger across to where it read 120. The little shit had been trying to get me to pay over four times the proper cab fare. I threw the correct money at him – Jesse had lent me some smaller notes than what the ATM at the airport had coughed up – and jumped out of the cab, resisting the urge to slam the door.

  I had had little butterflies fluttering around inside my belly making me feel all squirmy and nervous. The cab ride added a squirt of anger and adrenaline to the butterflies. Now I felt positively ill.

  I wandered through the market area towards the water and saw the picturesque Gateway to India rising up in front of me. I had read in my Lonely Planet that it had been built to commemorate the 1911 visit of King George V and was finished in 1924.

  I was 15 minutes early for my rendezvous with Matt and was admiring the Gateway when I saw him approaching me. My adrenaline rush went into overdrive at the sight of him. Christ, how was I going to appear even slightly normal with these emotions crashing around inside my body? I felt like a teenager with her first crush and was sure I was about to behave like one as well. Then, as I was schooling my face to what I hoped was a pleasantly-surprised-to-see-you-here-so-early-how-are-you-going expression, he was in front of me.

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘Hi yourself,’ I responded, inwardly groaning. I hoped I wasn’t going to keep repeating what he said right back at him. I read once that men liked that. It makes them feel important or something. I had a feeling it would just make me look like a moron.

  ‘Been here long?’

  ‘Nope you?’

  Ooooh Yeah. This was going to be bad. I shifted nervously from one foot to the other and wiped my sweaty palms on my camouflage pants.
Finally I broke.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I garbled embarrassed. ‘I sound like an idiot but I am, for some reason, absurdly nervous. I think it has something to do with the cab drive.’

  ‘The cab drive?’

  ‘Yeah, the guy tried to rip me off and it made me angry. Now I’m all emotional.’

  He burst out laughing. ‘If that’s the worst thing that happens to you while you’re in India, you’re doing well. Have you eaten?’

  ‘No.’ My stomach chose that second to let out a huge grumble. ‘I’m hungry,’ I admitted laughing.

  ‘Let’s go to the Taj Mahal Palace and have a high tea. My treat.’

  He led me to a beautiful old building overlooking the Bay. ‘This is the Taj Palace. It was built by a local man in the early 1900’s after he was refused entrance to one of the European hotels.’

  ‘Wow. Egging the hotel in the middle of the night would have done it for me.’

  ‘Yeah or a brick through a window,’ he said laughing.

  We joined a queue of people passing through the security at the front of the hotel. First, we walked through a metal detector, which appeared to be beeping at everybody. I paused waiting to be searched but was waved on by the security guards who seemed unconcerned and a little bored.

  ‘Maybe they think if it doesn’t beep there’s something wrong,’ I whispered to Matt.

  Then they wiped each of us down with a small swab of material, which I can only assume was part of a bomb-sniffing machine. I looked around for the machine thinking this was going to take an awfully long time if they tested each one of us, but they seemed to have forgotten it. I noticed a pile of swabs lying discarded on a table and watched in amusement as another one was added.

  ‘What are they going to do with them?’ I asked Matt.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘that’s it.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ I asked as he shepherded me through the front door.

  ‘Bureaucracy gone mad. Unfortunately nobody seems to have ever explained the equipment to them. I was having a chat to some of the locals out the front. Two weeks ago they found a bomb in front of the Gateway and waited so long for the police to turn up that in the end one of the locals disarmed it. I guess that’s why they’ve added the security precautions.’