By the Bay Ch. 10

Madison laughed as they exited the library. "Trust me, Roger. I know my son. When he left, he didn't want to return to England any time soon. He won't return for trivialities. He'll probably try to solve the matter by post."

Roger smiled. "We'll see, Madison. We'll see."

*

The Island

She could feel their eyes on her. It was inevitable that they would stare, but she hadn't thought they would do it so blatantly. They were whispering, too, and none too softly. Their words were like little knife jabs on her skin, and she pulled her sari tightly over her body and walked quickly along the rows of stalls.

She would get through this, she told herself. She was strong; she wasn't a coward. No matter what they said, she would face it and accept it, for she'd brought it upon herself. She didn't look at anyone. Didn't stop, didn't talk. She selected the vegetables as quickly as she could, afraid to linger long enough to provoke anyone into speaking directly with her. She could stand the whispers, but she didn't think she'd be able to handle any direct insults.

It was the end of April, and at the end of each month, she would replenish her stock of special tea from the old lady at the market. Now, however, since everyone knew about her relationship with Jay, they would know that she wasn't buying any of the flowers that were strewn about the old woman's stall, but the contraceptive tea. She had no choice, however. She'd used the last of the leaves today, and if she didn't continue the tea regularly, it might make her prone to conception. That was unacceptable.

She inched her way to the old woman's flower stall, feeling their gazes like fire on her back. Gathering courage, she glanced up and was grateful to note that the old lady had the tea leaves already bundled in a bag. As she handed the payment over, she caught the woman's gaze. Pity. The old lady pitied her.

She turned back and walked away from the market, feeling emotionally raped. They were judging her – had judged her. But did she regret her sin? Not quite. Dear gods, what kind of a woman had she turned into?

A tear spilled onto her cheek, but she did not notice for her skin was heated with shame.

*

Meera watched her sister as she walked around the market like a woman destined for the guillotine. She could see the shame weighing on Anita's shoulders, and she almost wanted to scream at the people who spoke in whispers behind her back. She would bet all she had that Anita could hear exactly what they were whispering about.

Bastards! Every last one of them. How could they not know how their words were hurting her sister? They were women too – most of them. Did they not know how the female heart and mind worked? Were these people too stupid to consider someone else's feelings? How was it that they never put themselves in other people's shoes?

She hated them. They'd never done anything good for her. They'd ostracized her mother, and now it was happening to her sister. She'll be damned if she'd let it happen all over again.

All her life, Anita had taken care of her. Now it was time for Meera to give back.

*

She reached the house a few minutes after her Anita did, and she found her sister in the kitchen, laying out the vegetables she'd bought. Anita didn't look up as Meera entered the room. Instead, she asked, "Are you hungry?" in a voice that conveyed the pain swirling inside her.

Meera understood perfectly the kind of shame her sister felt. She wanted nothing more than to put her arms around Anita and stroke the pain away. So she did.

Anita didn't question her. She simply returned her hug, laying her head on Meera's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Meera volunteered in an effort to console her sister.

"It's not your fault," Anita murmured against her shoulder, breathing heavily to fight back tears.

"It's not right, the way they speak about you."

Anita raised her head to look at her sister peculiarly. Then one tear slipped from the corner of her eyes. One more. Then another. And she found herself bawling against her sister's shoulder.

Meera's heart hurt to watch her sister cry. She'd seen Anita cry only once before, and that had been after their mother had died. No other hardship had made her sister cry – at least, not that she knew of – until today. She held Anita in a tight hug as her sister cried her misery. She raised a hand to stroke her sister's hair soothingly.

"Everything will be OK, 'ka. You'll see. They'll forget in time."

Anita found it difficult to breathe between sobs. "But until then, they'll speak so badly about me. One of them even asked... how much he paid me for a night!"

Meera's hold on her sister tightened. God, she hated this place, the people. How could they do this to her sister? Miserable wretches.

"They're simply excited that they have something new to talk about. Don't take them seriously."

Anita remained silent, tears still streaming from the corner of her eyes.

"You should sit down," Meera said gently, but Anita refused with a shake of her head.

"Meera... I think I'm a horrid person. I don't regret what I did."

She flicked wet lashes upwards to gauge her sister's reaction. Meera smiled.

"I'm not judging you, 'ka. Really. Everyone deserves the right to live for themselves at least once in their lives. This is your opportunity, and I won't judge you for it."

Anita raised the end of her sari to wipe her tears away. Meera took her hand and led her to the kitchen chair. "Sit," she said, and made Anita sit even though she protested. "Now, I'll make you breakfast. No," she added quickly. "Don't protest. You just rest for a while and I'll make something for you to eat. Please? It would make me happy."

She knew Anita wanted to protest, but that last line made her acquiesce grudgingly. She looked completely miserable, and Meera hoped she could cheer her sister up a little. Perhaps they could find a way to deal with the problem...

Though nothing short of a miracle would help solve it.

*

"Yes, now tuck the end of the sheet under the mattress. No, not like that," Anita said, gesturing. "You have to lift the mattress and quickly slip the linen in."

It was almost comical, Anita thought. Meera doing housework. She'd raised the girl to be an intellectual, not a housemaid. Had Meera not stubbornly wanted to help Anita today, Anita would never have had the enjoyment of watching Meera struggle with chores. It was fun, though. Anita crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wardrobe in the guest room, watching Meera struggle with the heavy mattress. She'd already been forbidden to help her younger sister.

"Are yousureyou don't need help?"

Meera nodded, concentrating intently on her task. Anita shrugged, content just to watch.

When Meera finally managed to slip the sheet under the mattress, Anita burst into a bubble of laughter, for the sheet on the other end of the bed slipped from beneath the mattress.

Meera smiled sheepishly, giving up and conceding that perhaps housework wasn't her forte. She was glad that her sister was finally laughing, even though the lines of worry were still evident on her face and she still sniffled every now and again.

In less than half the time Meera had taken, Anita tidied the bed and dusted the room. Meera got to her knees and browsed the selection of books on the small shelf next to the bed.

"'Ka?" Meera queried hesitantly a few minutes later, still kneeling in front of the bookshelf. Anita looked up from dusting the lacy green curtains. "Yes?"

"If I tell you something, would you think about it?" Meera said, still staring at the line of books. When Anita didn't reply immediately, Meera turned to gauge her sister's reaction.

Anita frowned. "Well, that depends, I suppose. What matter are we discussing?"

Meera sighed and leaned forward to perch her hands on the bed. "I was thinking that you should go to England... with him."

Anita tilted her head to assess her sister. Of all the absurd things to say... "Why? You know it would only compound my problems."

Meera tucked a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear. "Well, what if it doesn't? Think about it. You have no one here that will miss you. So what if they talk about you? You're not going to come back."

Anita blinked, struggling to comprehend what her sister had just said. "What? Why wouldn't I come back? This is home."

Meera's brows furrowed with irritation. "No one here even cares enough about you to spare your feelings, 'ka. How could you call this home?"

"I was born here, ma. This is the only place I know."

"It doesn't have to be." Meera stood, walking towards her sister. "What if there are better places in the world? Better opportunities, better people, better everything? Would you simply be content to be stuck on this island when there's so much to see in the world?"

"Um..."

"There are so many places, 'ka. England, the Americas... Egypt! I'm sure he'll take you to Egypt if you ask him to."

"Egypt? Where is that?" Anita said, reeling slightly from the spark in Meera's eyes.

"It's across the Indian Ocean. I've heard it's a very exciting place."

Anita raised a hand to her temples. "So are you suggesting that I leave my home and travel to places I've never been to before?"

"Yes!"

"Butwhywould I do that?"

"Because it would help you forget... things. What if you find that you like living elsewhere in the world? You can avoid the problem entirely."

Anita rubbed at the pounding in her temples. "But I don't want to avoid it. It's cowardice."

Meera cupped her sister's cheeks in two hands and leaned in close. "'Ka, listen to me. It is not fair, the way those people judge you. You don't deserve it and I'm sure you'll find something better across the sea. I'm trying to think of what's best for you. Home will still be here if or when you return to the island."

Before Anita could open her mouth, Meera spoke again. "Don't say anything. Just think about it."

Confident that her sister would think about her suggestion, Meera snagged the black feather duster that dangled from Anita's lax fingertips and continued dusting the curtains.

*

Anita treaded hesitantly into Jay's room. He was asleep, but the door had been slightly ajar, and she'd been hard pressed to leave after catching sight of his naked, golden back. Once inside the room, she pushed the door closed as quietly as possible so she wouldn't wake him.

She was still reeling from Meera's words earlier that morning. Leaving home... the idea scared her. She couldn't even possibly be thinking about it, but the fact was that she was actually considering her sister's suggestion.

Going to England, the place where Jay had been born and grown up – it had a certain attraction to it. He'd told her very little of his background, and what she knew of him, she'd deduced herself from her time with him. She felt the inexplicable yearning to be closer to him, to know more about him, even though she knew it would only hurt her more at the end.

She sighed. She wasn't in the right frame of mind to be making such big decisions. The pain of the morning still weighed heavily in her heart and it would influence any decision she made at the moment.

She contented herself by staring at the sunlight playing across his back. Gods, he was so beautiful, almost unbearably so. She couldn't imagine why he would ever take an interest in her.

But I have him now,she thought possessively.If only for the moment.

She stepped forward and knelt on the bed, leaning down to press a kiss to his shoulder. Subconsciously, she noted that his injury was healing nicely. She'd just pressed her mouth to his skin when he jerked under her and came awake almost immediately.

"Um, good morning," she said almost guiltily.

He turned to face her, rubbing his palms over his face. There were faint circles under his eyes but he managed a smile for her.

"'Morning."

"Didn't you sleep well? There are circles under your eyes."

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." He sat up and leaned back against the wooden headboard.

He looked delicious this morning, with his hair tousled and eyes cloudy. When he patted his lap, she slid between them and laid her back against his front. His arms encapsulated her waist and he laid his chin on top of her head.

She sighed with contentment.

"Anita..."

"Mm?" she hummed, playing with his fingers and marveling at how large his hands were as compared to hers. She laid their palms flat against each other and estimated that his fingers were at least an inch longer than hers.

"How are you?"

She knew what he was asking about. She tilted her head to look up at him and smiled.

"I'm fine, really. Meera said something to me today that changed my perspective of the situation."

He felt her entwine her fingers with his.

"What did she tell you?"

"She told me that I don't deserve to be judged by people who don't care for me. It's true, isn't it? I let what everyone says affect me too much. All this time, I cared about what other people would think of me and Meera, when really, why does it matter so much?"

He chuckled lightly. "It doesn't."

"Exactly. I should do things that makemehappy. Why should I care about them?"

"There are many reasons why you should care – trust me, I know. But you don't want to care about the fact that you should care. True?"

She sighed. "Yes, very. Meera has already said no to marriage, so what's there for me to lose?"

"You're very right, sweetheart."

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of nature outside the window. She was content to simply lean into him and share the silence with him. As was he.

"Jay," she said after a long while.

"Yes?"

"Were you serious when you said you'd like to take me to England?"

He adjusted her on his lap so that he could see her expression. Her eyes met his, and he could see the hesitance in them. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Yes, I was." A thought occurred to him. "Why? Are you reconsidering my offer?"

A small smile played on her lips. "Perhaps."

He tilted her chin up and she saw that his eyes were alight with genuine joy. "I'm only thinking -."

But before she could finish the sentence, he covered her lips with his. It was shameless and open-mouthed, and she gave as good as got.

They ended up sprawled on the bed, with her under him, her hands tangled in his hair. It still awed her that he could incite desire in her so quickly. All he had to do was take his shirt off and she became a malleable piece of clay in his hands.

When he tore his mouth from her, she smiled and said, "I only said I was thinking, Jay."

He smiled cheekily. "It's enough."

Then he kissed her again... in many different places.

*

When she returned to the kitchen half an hour later, her thighs were weak and her cheeks were glowing. She found Meera seated at the kitchen table, the various types of vegetables neatly chopped and stacked in front of her, just as Anita had asked her to do before she'd entered Jay's room. Her sister was chewing at the end of a pencil while reading something she'd written in her notebook.

Meera looked up when Anita entered the kitchen.

"What took you so long?"

Anita felt the heat rising to her cheeks. Meera looked more closely at her sister, noticed the glow emanating from her dark skin and wrinkled her nose.

"On second thought, I donotwant to know the answer to that question."

Anita's laugh held a tinge of embarrassment. "Come, we have to start with lunch."

Meera set her book aside and watched as Anita heated oil in a pan and set another pot half-filled with water to boil.

"What are we making?" she asked.

"Chicken soup with long beans and spinach on the side."

"That sounds so good."

"A step up from porridge, huh?" Anita commented with a small smile.

"Several."

They worked side by side, with Meera following Anita's instruction closely. Meera had never realized that so many spices and ingredients went into cooking soup. She'd only watched Anita cook porridge before, but that had been an easy task. Soup, however, was like a complex math sum. Missing one step could ruin the end result. The vegetables couldn't be overcooked, the chicken couldn't be undercooked. How her sister had the patience to do this everyday, Meera wouldn't know.

Meera was busy manipulating the wooden spoon around the pot, trying to stir the soup without breaking the chicken bits apart, when Jay bounded down the stairs, looking refreshed and very much alive.

"Your man is here," Meera said to Anita in Tamil.

Anita turned from the act of measuring water to add to the uncooked rice. He entered the kitchen.

"Good morning," he said to them.

"I'm sure it was for you," Meera muttered beneath her breath. Anita slapped her arm, warning her sister with her eyes to keep her barbs to herself.

"What would you like to eat?" Anita asked him as he reached for the bowl of fruit on the table. "If you could wait an hour, lunch will be ready."

He grabbed an apple from the bowl. "I'll wait. In fact, I think I'll be going out for a bit. I should be back in a couple of hours, though." He rubbed the side of the apple against his shirt.

"I'll keep the food warm."

She didn't know how he moved so quickly. One second, he was standing near the table, and the next, he had pressed his lips to hers. Shocked, she pushed him away.

"Jay!" she admonished, sneaking an embarrassed glance at Meera.

"What?" he shrugged, perplexed. "She already knows!"

"That doesn't mean you can..."

"I'm not listening to your conversation, nor am I watching the both of you," Meera said, intently stirring the contents of the pot. "I am slowly becoming one with the soup."

"See?" Jay said, snatching another kiss before moving away. He took a bite out of the apple. "I'll see you in a couple of hours."

*

He needed new clothes. That's why he went into town. He'd torn one of his trousers last night whilst exercising, and though he could've asked Anita to mend it for him, he knew that it was about time he put that particular pair of trousers to rest. He'd only brought four pairs of trousers and shirts with him to the island, and he finally admitted to himself that he needed to buy more, or else every article of clothing he owned would be threadbare and frayed.

He walked past a couple of men's tailor shops in the town, noting the whispers that floated around him before effectively dismissing them. He could feel people staring at him as well, and he knew they were judging him. That didn't affect him, though. He'd been judged too many times before.

He finally came to a stop in front of a Malay tailor shop, liking the design of a shirt in the display window. It was a western-style shirt with Arabic design, and it appealed to Jay because it was unique. He stepped into the shop, prepared to spend some coins.

He stepped out of the shop ten minutes later, three shirts and trousers tucked in bags. The shopkeeper, a stout Malay man with a ready smile, waved goodbye as Jay walked away, satisfied with his purchases.

He roamed the town, looking through windows to see if there was anything interesting for him to explore. There were barber shops, ladies' textile shops and food places aplenty, but none of them were unique. He didn't feel the pull of any of the shops... until he came to a place that was crammed between a bookshop and a flower shop. The little place advertised piercings.

Piercings. Interesting.

He stepped into the shady shop, blinking to adjust his eyes to the darkness. A small Indian man was seated behind the counter, but he stood as Jay entered. Jay noticed that the man was wearing his traditional attire – a button-down shirt and theveshti. Theveshtiis a long, unstitched cloth that was tied around a man's waist and ended past the ankles.