Nights Like This (25 page)

“I'll be here, Anjali. I'll be here for you.”

I could tell be the way she looked at me that she didn't trust me. I wouldn't trust me either if I were in her place. But I couldn't leave things this way with her. I would have to show her that I cared about her, that I would do anything to heal whatever damage I had done. I wasn't worried about promising her my life. I knew she would see that it wasn't meant to be a life that I shared with her. But I would allow her to come to that conclusion. I would allow her to tell me. And then I would talk to Vanessa and be with her.

What if Anjali realized at the end of it all that we were meant to be together and fell madly in love with me? What if she asked for my life, a life I had already promised to her? Could I really walk out on her then? It made me uneasy to think that this was a possibility. It wasn't. It wouldn't turn out that way. I had to have things turn out the way I had thought they would because I could not imagine my life without Vanessa. I had to be with her again. There were still many times left to watch her smile and hear her voice. I couldn't imagine that there weren't.

“You want to sleep?” I asked Anjali.

She said nothing.

“Why don't you sleep for a while? Do you want me to take you to the bedroom?”

“No, I'm okay here. I don't feel like moving. I just want lie here for right now.”

“Sure. I'm going to sleep across on the other side so if you need anything, I'll be here.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“No, I do. I want to take care of you, baby. And I will. I'm not going to leave your side for anything.”

“It sounds so dishonest from your lips, the word ‘baby.' I have to wonder if you called her that time and time again, if it's just a word for you to toss around.”

“It means I care for you.”

“I see how.”

“I'm sorry. I really am.”

I smoothed the hair away from her forehead. She made a sound as I touched the bruise above her eyebrow and I pulled my hand away. She closed her eyes and I watched her as her breathing became deep and peaceful. As she slept, I started to think about what was to come. I thought how, just days ago, everything had been simple and different. But things were still simple, weren't they? For the moment, all I had to know was that I was there for Anjali, night and day, body mind and soul and the rest would follow with the unraveling of time. Vanessa would still be there, she had to be there because she had my heart. I would return to her. But before that, I would take care of Anjali.

I know now that I had agreed to take care of Anjali out of a sense of guilt and responsibility. I had thought that mending her body would mend the past for us, allow her and me to forget all the suffering that I had caused her. That was what had made me want to care for her. But I did not know then that Anjali Chopra was capable of stealing my heart. A heart that, for all I knew, I had already given to Vanessa. But Anjali proved to me that I hadn't given anything to anyone because I was, more than anything, reluctant to let go.

 

 

 

Autumn grew colder as if inviting winter into its midst. I stayed with Anjali every day and made sure I was close to her in case she needed anything. The first week that I cared for her, she didn't say much and slept most of the time. I helped her to the bathroom throughout the day and then led her back to her place on the couch. I sponged her body with warm water and gentle soap that smelled like freesia. She was somehow embarrassed as I bathed her body.

“I've seen you naked, you know,” I said to her the second day that I was bathing her.

“I know.”

“So why do you look away from me?”

“When we make love, we both concentrate on making love. When you bathe me, I feel like you're studying my body, looking for imperfections. You'll notice my breasts are uneven and you'll see how awful my bruises look under the bandages. You'll see that I haven't shaved anywhere since last week. I don't want you to see all that.”

“You know what I see?” I asked.

“What's that?”

“I see that you are beautiful. There is nothing more for me to see.”

I looked into her eyes and wished I could somehow let her know how perfect I thought her body was. I loved her body with all its ebbs and tides and with the swells and valleys that I traveled when I made love to her. I loved feeling the softness of her skin when I wiped her with a soft cloth scented with freesia. I had never understood her being uncertain about her body because I knew within myself that hers was the most perfect body I had ever touched.

“Anjali, you know what your problem is? You never see truth when you look in a mirror.”

“What?”

“You don't ever see how beautiful your body is. I've never understood that about you,” I said.

“You think I'm beautiful?”

“Yes, I do. I think you're the most beautiful woman I have ever made love to.”

“Even more beautiful than the girl you went away with?” she asked.

I wasn't prepared for that question. I didn't think Anjali would ask me anything about my time away with Vanessa. But she had a right. It had been my lie, her money and, apparently, the cause of her accident.

“Yes,” I said.

Anjali was more attractive than Vanessa when it came to her body. But Vanessa captured my attention like no one ever had. Vanessa's attraction lay not in her body or even in making love but in her spirit. I wanted to see a new day with Vanessa to see what she would find and where it would lead us. I was mesmerized by her. So I hadn't lied to Anjali because we were talking about her body. But I hoped that she wouldn't ask me anything further because I didn't want to hurt her with truth and yet I did not want to deceive her with lies either.

“What's she like, Jess?”

“Who?” I asked as I took her feet in my lap.

I started to massage her feet slowly, concentrating only on the motion of my fingers.

“You know who. What's her name anyway?”

I looked at her and tried to see where her questions were coming from and how she felt asking them. Was she angry? Was she trying to make me think of Vanessa knowing that I could not talk to her? I searched her face and had to look away. Anjali was neither angry nor was she being spiteful. Truth was Anjali was hurt and sad. I didn't know what to do with that. Anger would have been something I could have dealt with. But thinking of Anjali blindly crossing the street, half drunk, because I had lied to her and because I had betrayed her was something I did not want to think about.

“Anjali, let it go.”

“Let it go? Let it go? Are you fucking serious, Jess? You told me you would be faithful to me. Then you drove to God knows where with another woman and shared with her all that you had promised to me. And then you came home only because you somehow found out that I was hurt and again told me you could be faithful when it's evident you can't. And then you want me to ‘let it go?' Seriously? Jess, you're fucking crazy.”

It all sounded really bad the way that Anjali put it. But I had to admit that it was the truth. That's why I said nothing and waited for her to speak again.

“So what's her name?”

“It doesn't matter. We were friends. We were just friends.”

“If that's all you had, Jess, and you truly believe that, then why did you have to lie to me? Why couldn't you just tell me that you were going away?”

I didn't know why I had lied. She would have given me the money either way. I could have said I was going away for a while. I did go away every year, at least once but maybe to Atlantic City on a work outing or maybe to Queens to stay with a family friend. But regardless, she had never asked where I was going or with whom. I could have told her the truth. So why had I lied to her?

“I don't know why I lied to you,” I confessed, hoping she could see that I was telling her the truth, hoping she realized I had no answers for myself let alone for her.

“Platonic my ass,” she said.

Tears came to her eyes.

“You lied to me,” she said, “because you love her.”

“Anjali, I love you too.”

I regretted the words as soon as I said them. Why did I say such stupid things true as they were?

“You love both of us? That's still not the same as loving me.”

I tried to wipe her eyes but she pulled away. “Things are different than they have been, Jess.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm tired of you.”

Her words resonated throughout the room and I took a step back as if she had attacked me.

“Anjali…”

“So what's her name?”

“Can we not talk about this, please?”

“Why not?”

“Because I don't see the point. I'm here, aren't I? So what's the point of talking about her?”

“You are here, no doubt. But your thoughts are somewhere else. You think I don't see that?”

I gently pushed her feet off my lap and got up. I stretched upwards towards the ceiling.

“You know what? I think I'm going to start writing every day.”

“Are you changing the topic?”

“Yes I am. I don't want to talk about her. There is no reason to. You got what you wanted, right?”

“And what's that?”

“You wanted me to be with you and I am.”

“No, Jess. I wanted you to be
in love
with me and only me. I wanted us to share this life. I wanted to marry you. I believed we could love each other forever and a day. That's what I wanted. And now, Jess, after four fucking years I'm tired. I'm tired of loving you. Can you understand that?”

I sat down beside her.

“I understand,” I said. “So you don't love me anymore?”

“No Jess! No. Love doesn't evaporate when it doesn't work. It still stays inside, still hopes, still dreams.”

“So you do love me.”

“Yes but I'm tired, Jess. I'm tired of being fucked over.”

“I don't know what to tell you,” I said, “except that I'll be here for you and only you. That I want to be here with you. I can't give you reasons or logic. I don't know. I don't even know what love is.”

“You don't know what love is but ten minutes ago you professed loving two women? See I can't deal with the bullshit. I don't even know what the bullshit is anymore. Do you even know what the bullshit is anymore?”

I sat there quietly for quite some time. Whenever I looked at her she looked away.

“Why don't you get some sleep?” I said.

“You too,” she said wearily.

As I got up, I tried to kiss her but she pulled away.

“I'll make you breakfast in bed tomorrow,” I said

“My queen of evasion,” she said.

“How so?”

“You can evade any conversation at any time. It is so fucking annoying. I asked you a question and we're ending the night with breakfast in bed.”

I remembered abruptly the breakfast Vanessa and I had shared sitting naked in our hotel room. I could taste the coffee, feel her knee touching mine slightly as we sat cross-legged in crumpled sheets.

“Jess?”

“What was your question?” I asked as I was shaken from memory.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, of course I am. I'm just tired. What was your question? I want to know.”

“Do you even know the bullshit from the truth anymore? Do you know what you even want anymore?”

“No,” I said softly, “I have no idea what I want or what love is. Is that what you want to hear?”

“If it's the truth, yes that's what I wanted to hear.”

“Okay then there you fucking have it.”

The silence that was between us now was stale like cigar smoke trapped in the fibers of a winter coat.

“Close your eyes, baby,” I finally said.

“What the fuck for?”

“So you can go to sleep. Please go to sleep. You need your rest.”

“As if you give a shit what I need, Jess. As if you ever have.”

With that Anjali closed her eyes and settled into a deep sleep. I got up and walked to the bedroom and unzipped my bag. I hadn't even opened it since I had returned. I took from it only my paisley journal. I went back to the living room. I sat across from her and, for the first time since I had come back, I opened our journal. I say ours because it had ceased to become Vanessa's when she handed it to me and it had never been just mine. Within those pages I found traces of why I fell in love. I also found why I was so afraid to love.

I sat back and flipped to a random page.

I was the best story that ever eluded you.

Those were Vanessa's words. She had written just that. She had written the truth. I flipped again.

If ever I write a story, it will be a love story.

Those were my words. I believed them. I didn't know when or where or how the story would take shape but I knew that it had to be a love story full of heart and truth. I remembered thinking of something Vanessa had said and I knew she had written it somewhere. I flipped past the hybrid make believe Indo-Rican flag, past the two pages stuck together that I didn't have the patience to open, past the drawing of an unidentified flower, past passages here and there. And then I found her words.

As you sleep and I am with you, I start to miss you.

I wish you would write. Write me a love story.

I read the journal from first page until the pages went blank. When the sun set, I watched the rays dance across Anjali's skin, an aura of innocence and grace surrounding her body. I looked around the room and started to fear the evening's immensity. I turned on a light and walked to the kitchen. I selected a pen from the drawer full of pens and pencils and the occasional highlighter. I sat that evening and without knowing it, I wrote Vanessa's words:

As you sleep and I am with you, I start to miss you.