The Halfways, page 41
But then she saw him, his face pressed against the car window, nose and palm splayed against the glass, a grotesque splat of pale flesh. She pressed her fingers against the window.
‘Are you the idiot that left your kid locked in the car alone?’
Sabrina gaped at the woman, bathed in fluorescence on the steaming asphalt next to her cycle.
‘Pardon me?’ Sabrina said as she opened the car door and began to slide into her seat.
‘I will not pardon you.’ The woman glared, bending forward with barely concealed anger. ‘You left a kid unattended in a locked car. I’ve got a good mind to call child protection services.’
As she drove off, Sabrina muttered under her breath. Fucking ass. Fucking douchebag. Her profanities filled the car, and after the initial shock, Elias began to giggle. Sabrina looked in the rear-view mirror. ‘Your mother hated when I swore around you,’ she told him. ‘Fuck that.’ He let out a hoot of glee, and Sabrina, keeping a straight face, turned into their apartment parking lot.
‘Hi, Ms Sabrina, there’s a gentleman, a Mr Ashok who would like to come up?’
‘Ashok?’
She let him up, wishing she hadn’t answered. She waited with the door open, heard the ding of the elevator, and then he was there, days of stubble on his stormy face, hands thrust into his jacket pockets. They stared at each other, she with some defiance, and he with angry recognition of it, before she finally stood aside and let him brush past her straight into the kitchen.
She watched him as he ran the cold tap. He let it run and banged the cupboard doors in search of a glass. She retrieved one and watched as he drank a glassful and began to fill another.
‘My mummy and daddy died on Corn Du.’
Ashok switched the tap off and slowly lowered the glass. He turned to face the child standing quietly behind him. As he searched the small face, Sabrina saw Ashok’s shoulders slump, the anger in his jaws soften.
‘Eli,’ she called, and Elias went to her. She picked him up and carried him back to his room, his arms locked behind her neck, his breath warming her earlobes.
When she returned to the living room, Ashok was standing outside on the balcony looking down at the traffic. The tarry night poured over him, and his shoulders seemed to bear the burden. She stood still at the door, waiting until he spoke. When he did not, she said, ‘He tells everyone – about his parents dying on Corn Du – that’s the summit where they were found, you know, in the Beacons? He keeps repeating it – almost to himself – at random times. Like to the doorman, or the guy at the grocery store.’
‘Your sister’s kid?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
He nodded. ‘Fanni told me about what happened … I don’t even know what to say.’
They stared out onto the street where two men were dragging a string of Christmas lights out of a van. Sabrina thought again of her father and her sister, their faces flushed by the lights of the Rockefeller tree. ‘My sister loved Christmas,’ she told Ashok softly. ‘When we were little, she’d make us put cake and milk by the fireplace for Father Christmas. My mum was always against us adopting Western ways, but my sister, usually so compliant, well, she was so adamant about having Christmas.’
She stopped, searching his face for some understanding.
‘Sab,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry. You adored her; I know.’
She nodded silently. Stepping out, she moved gently towards him, the cold damp of the balcony floor seeping through her tights.
‘Your sister’s kid?’ he asked again, turning to her. He shook his head. ‘Shit.’
For some moments they watched the men down below struggle to untangle the lights.
‘Ash,’ Sabrina hesitated. ‘I’m … I don’t know what to say.’
‘Sorry? After what you did, “sorry” might be a good start.’ He shrugged as though this was now futile.
‘You would’ve done – you did do the same – you tried to throw me under the bus! I tried to ask you for help! It was going to be either you or me.’
‘Sab, that was different,’ Ashok said, his voice gentle. ‘I told you I’d look after you, I told you we’d make sure you made MD under my watch, didn’t I? But what you did … I mean, do you understand the consequences? It wasn’t just the job that I lost. Rachel threw me out. The rumours about you … about us. Ralph got wind.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Ash—’
He turned to her. ‘You of all people?’ His chest shuddered, but he lapsed into silence. ‘You know what, though? I sort of get it. The two of us … the way we were treating each other … no wonder you didn’t believe me when I promised to look out for you.’ He turned back to the night. ‘I get it … I mean I hated the person I’d become, but you know, Sab, I’ve always had your back.’
Sabrina fought back angry tears. She realised she hated the person she had become too. But the defeat in his voice made her feel wretched, and she wished he would leave. Instead she said: ‘We can’t blame the job. We chose to become that way, elbows out, always out to win. You told me once, remember? When you stop needing to win, you’re out.’
They watched a trickle of cars move through a green light.
‘Does any of this matter now?’ he asked. When she didn’t respond, he continued, ‘When Fanni told me, I had to google low cloud on mountains. I didn’t even know that was a thing. I mean how does that even happen? Shit.’ He tugged at his jacket as the wind picked up, and then looked at her. ‘I didn’t know you had your nephew here, though – I didn’t know he was with you.’
‘I brought him back because I think my sister would have wanted it.’ She looked up at him. ‘I’ve put in the paperwork to adopt him, officially I mean.’
‘Wow, Sib.’
At that moment, in the gentle light from the streets, he was the old Ashok again. His eyes were pink, and his lips tense with some unfathomable emotion. She stepped forward, resisting the urge to rest the side of her face against his arm. Instead she whispered to him: ‘Please, I need you to leave now.’
‘I don’t know what I’m going to do,’ he whispered back.
‘You’ll know,’ she said. ‘I know you.’
‘There are basically no jobs out there, right? It’s like fucking Armageddon.’
‘It’s a total shit show.’
‘I don’t think I can do it, Sab. Fuck, I feel like a wreck.’
‘You feel like a wreck?’
He stared at her and nodded. ‘Is he going to be okay?’
‘I don’t know. But he’s with me, and I’m not going anywhere without him.’
He frowned in that way he had that made him look like he was solving algebra. ‘Are you going to be okay?’
She turned away, willing herself not to look at him again. After some minutes, he brushed past her, his coat rubbing her sweater in a gentle whisper, and Sabrina resisted the urge to run after him.
Almost a fortnight later, Sabrina and Elias sat on the sofa, clicking through the channels when the buzzer rang. Elias hovered at his aunt’s elbow as she ushered Ashok in. Ashok’s short, straggly beard glistened in the ochre light, and he glanced anxiously at Elias. He clutched a large box in his arms, wrapped in Christmas paper, and a paper bag from Magnolia Bakery.
‘I thought the kid might want a Christmas present,’ he told her. ‘You’ve never been good with gifts.’
Sabrina was too surprised to respond.
‘And some banana pudding from Magnolia.’
‘I love banana pudding!’ Elias cried, taking the small bag offered to him. ‘How did you know?’
‘I remember your aunt telling me that you liked it.’
Elias held out his hand for the larger box.
‘What is it?’
‘Go ahead,’ Sabrina said. ‘You can open it.’
Ashok licked his lips nervously. ‘I actually just wanted to come and say hi.’ He looked at Elias and then Sabrina. ‘To you both.’ He raised his hand, comically. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi,’ Elias said.
Sabrina laughed.
‘Do you want something to drink?’ she asked, suddenly shy. ‘No hard stuff, I’m staying away from the alcohol. I just did namaz.’
This elicited a chortle from Ashok. ‘You know how?’
‘I had to teach her,’ Elias told him. ‘She doesn’t know. Do you know how?’
‘Well,’ said Ashok, shrugging out of his jacket, ‘I’m a Hindu, but I’m not really religious.’
Elias nodded. ‘Lalon was born a Hindu. But then he wasn’t any religion either.’
They ordered pizza and cannelloni, and Elias sat between them, eating slice after slice and listening to them talk.
‘You resigned,’ Ashok said. ‘Fanni told me.’
‘You and Fanni are besties now?’ Sabrina teased, but then she nodded, glancing pointedly in Elias’s direction.
Ashok shook his head. ‘I … I never in a million years would have seen that happening.’
‘Things change.’
‘People change. You’re doing namaz.’ He laughed.
Sabrina rolled her eyes, mouthing, ‘I do it for him.’
Ashok nodded. ‘They fired Fanni.’
‘Ah, she had it coming. Rubs people up the wrong way.’
‘Most of the old team is gone.’
‘Fuck, I know!’
‘Are you supposed to swear in front of the kid?’
‘You should apply for the role. Build it up again.’
‘Ha!’
‘Anything out there yet?’
‘Working on something. Let’s see.’
‘Will she take you back?’
Ashok didn’t answer. Elias looked at him, pointed at the box he had given him. ‘Can we play it now?’
‘Sure.’
They began to set it up, a huge track looped around one end of the living room. Ashok inserted batteries into the car and stood to watch Elias control it over the course.
Sabrina stood up and cleared away the boxes, still surprised at Ashok turning up out of the blue, and more so at how natural it felt to have him here. The comfort of the last hour or so resembled the old days, and she found herself wanting to prolong his visit. She began to flip through her playlist.
‘So who’s this Lalon guy?’ Ashok asked Elias.
‘You don’t know Lalon Fakir?’
‘Is he a relative?’
Sabrina laughed at the look on Elias’s face. ‘He’s a poet,’ she explained, ‘people sing his stuff and it’s called Lalongeet.’
‘I like the Lalon,’ Elias told Ashok.
‘You like Bengali folk songs?’
‘Really? Why didn’t you say, Eli? I have an album somewhere here!’ Sabrina exclaimed, the excitement in her voice unmistakable. She began rummaging through her CD box.
‘My favourite is “Bareer Kache Arshinogor”.’
‘Oh my God!’ Sabrina stared at her nephew. ‘Really?’
‘And why do you like that one?’ Ashok asked, picking up a piece of cheese from Elias’s lap and putting it on his plate. Sabrina found the CD and the familiar and melancholic melody soared through the apartment.
Ashok considered it. ‘I mean, it sounds like a lot of wailing.’
Sabrina laughed. ‘It’s just hard to translate, okay? He was very enlightened.’
‘It’s about how you’re never alone,’ Elias told him, talking through a mouthful of pizza. ‘Nanabhai told me, it’s about how your neighbour is always there when you can’t see him. He lives in a city of mirrors, see? That’s why you can’t see him.’
‘A city of mirrors, huh?’ Ashok said. ‘That’s pretty profound. Is the neighbour a reflection of us?’
‘The neighbour, see, is Allah-ji,’ Elias explained to Ashok. ‘But Nanabhai said to remember that even when we can’t see Allah-ji, he is nearby.’
Ashok nodded.
After Ashok left that night, Sabrina stood on the balcony of her apartment and gazed out into the light-speckled city. The evening had been a short but necessary respite. She felt the lightness in her gut. She knew that the feeling that she was stranded far out at sea, with nothing but water around her, would return. But then Lalon’s words revived her. Shey aar Lalon ek khane roy, Tobu lokkho jojon fak re. Though she herself was agnostic, she remembered how much she had appreciated her father’s faith, that God, though unseen, was always near. She remembered how he believed that she was never a bad person, never selfish, like others thought her; that her goodness lived deep inside her, she just needed to dig deeper than others to find it. This ocean that she felt stranded in – perhaps it was a sort of liberation too? She could swim in any direction she pleased, towing her nephew along with her, with nothing to weigh them down.
She paced the apartment from room to room, gathering her thoughts. She went into her bedroom and sifted through a drawer full of her sister’s old letters, many of them unopened. She found the photo she was looking for, held it up in the lamplight. The three of them, Afroz, Nasrin and herself standing beneath a betel nut tree during Eid morning. In it, their faces were small, and their grins huge. Sabrina sat on Afroz’s lap, and Afroz’s arm was looped around her neck, her cheek lowered to touch Sabrina’s cheek. Sabrina remembered the downy softness of her cousin’s skin, and the powdery smell of talc. Her sister, not cousin, but sister. Sabrina told herself this as she stood and walked slowly to her nephew’s room. She watched his sleeping face in the gossamer shade of the night light.
She picked up her phone and dialled Afroz.
‘I’ve wired the money,’ she told her. ‘It’ll be in your account by Monday morning.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘Thank you,’ Afroz said.
‘Do you remember,’ Sabrina asked as though it had suddenly occurred to her, ‘when you broke your leg, saving me from that car?’
Afroz didn’t answer.
‘Do you remember that poem you used to recite to me? Kajla Didi? Was it a Tagore poem?’
She heard a smile in Afroz’s voice. ‘No, it was Jatindramohan Bagchi, Sibby. You loved that poem.’
‘I think Didi must have recited it to Eli, because he asked me for it too, but I can’t bring myself to … I used to love it, but I was also so afraid of it … of that kid losing his Kajla Didi … and now …’
Sabrina waited for Afroz to respond but instead she heard soft sobs and felt her own eyes tearing up.
Sabrina said nothing more.
She understood that, despite their childhood attachment, she would never be close to her half-sister, or her father. But she also understood that if she had done everything else to help her nephew brave this new world of his, then she would do this, too; she would allow him the possibility of three mothers on three different continents. She would help erect that troika of love.
Sabrina woke slowly on Christmas morning, then dozed and woke again as the light expanded throughout the room. Beside her, Elias stirred. She heard the cough from Elias’s room, and for a moment was disorientated, before she remembered, and a small smile spread over her face. Ashok, after accompanying them to see the Met Christmas tree, had accepted her offer to stay the night.
‘Khala?’
‘Yes?’
‘Is it Christmas Day?’
‘Yes.’
She imagined he would ask if he could open his presents. She imagined there would be excitement. But her nephew lay still beside her.
She wanted to ask, what did Mummy and Daddy do on Christmas Day? But she did not. There would be no point in trying to replicate a parent she would never, could never be.
‘Here’s the plan for today,’ she said, moving so she could see his face, ‘let me know if you disagree, okay? First, we go down to Isabella’s for a nice Christmas brunch. Then we’re going down to the Rockefeller Center to ice skate. Then we can—’
‘Can we speak with Nani?’ he asked. ‘Can we speak with Khala Afroz? And with Riaz?’
Sabrina sat up, irritation bubbling inside her.
‘Sure.’
‘Are you angry?’
‘No.’
She walked to the kitchen, angry but unsure why.
‘Hey.’ Ashok stood at the sink, fully dressed. He was clearly on his way out. Sabrina felt herself stiffen. Why had she thought anything would be different?
‘Morning,’ she said, hating the tightness of her voice.
‘I told Mom I’d come for Christmas lunch.’
‘Of course! You’re catching the train or driving?’
‘If I drive, I’ll have to go get the car. See her. Not sure I’m up for that.’
She nodded, moving towards the Nespresso machine.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Sab—’
‘Everything’s good! You should go. Elias and I have plans.’
Ashok bristled. ‘Right.’ He took his coat from the back of the chair. ‘I’ll get going.’
At the door, he looked back at her. ‘I … Monty called me. They’re offering me my old job back.’
‘What do you mean? How …’ She looked at him.
‘I mean. To head up the new team—’
‘I know what you mean!’ Sabrina glared at him. ‘But you’re still under investigation, aren’t you? They’re just going to brush it under the carpet! Is that why you came over? To gloat? To get back at me?’
‘Of course not! I came over to be with you. And with Eli. Why are you being like this?’
‘You know what? Just leave.’
‘Sabrina—’
‘Just go!’
‘You know what?’ Ashok slammed the counter. ‘I thought things were going to be different this time, but obviously I was wrong.’
The door banged and Sabrina stood watching it for the longest time, shaking with fury. Why was she angry? She had resigned. Why should Ashok lose out? Then she saw Elias standing by the bedroom door, watching her. His face was long with worry. She turned and put a capsule into the Nespresso machine. ‘Come on, buddy,’ she told him, hating the cold of her voice. ‘Get ready.’
