He was like the dandelion that did not know it was a weed, and was even admired for its flowers.
Her eyes refocused when she realized he was looking at her intently, no doubt having noticed her stare.
“What is it, Alice?”
She blinked.
“Oh! I was just running over the list in my mind. I think I might need to add herbicide to it.”
Alice marveled at how quickly she had crossed over from love to hate, even though she’d heard the adage about the thin line between them her whole life. She marveled at the speed, but she wasn’t surprised she’d crossed over at all; she knew it was a balancing act all along: standing on that thin high wire line, it was easy to tilt one way or another.
Alice wondered at other people’s amazement when they heard stories involving love going sour, even murderous. How astonished they were when jealous husbands killed wives. How perplexed when someone committed an act that reeked of hate against a loved one. She was never surprised by any of it; as far as she was concerned, love and hate were siblings—they had the same mother.
She also marveled at how easy it was to finally eradicate the root of all her discontent—she had the tools all along.
As far as she was concerned, he had brought this on himself.
She could have just walked away but he entrapped her until she could do nothing but bite through the ropes, chop the octopus-like arms away.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, having completed her list. He nodded at her, finishing a sip of water.
When she looked in his eyes for the final time, she felt a trace of regret. His eyes were glistening—or at least seemed to be—wide and open, looking at her as if he wanted to drink her up. He looked grateful, happy, no doubt because she had seemed to forgive him of his latest and greatest transgression. His eyes, after all these years, were still full of love.
Tears started to fill her own so she gave him a quick smile then turned away, shutting the door behind her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Edward wouldn’t have done this to her; she knew it. He wouldn’t have turned her into this type of woman. Eddie had lived a lot of his early life hopelessly devoted to her and if she’d given him a chance, he probably would have lived the rest of his life in the same manner.
Eddie had been utterly in love with her for as long as she could remember. As far as she could tell, he had loved her since they were seven when his family moved into her neighborhood. Perhaps he had loved her since the very first time he saw her outside on the grass, reading Dr. Seuss. He certainly loved her once they became friends and started playing outside together— hide-and-seek, stick-ball, marbles.
Perhaps she was wrong and he actually started loving her later, when they started playing inside her house together, when she started reading her favorite stories to him. But she was certain he loved her by the time they started making up stories together, when they sat watching
Dragnet, The Lone Ranger
and reruns of
Sky King
. She had no doubt he still loved her in later years as they flipped through the latest issues of
The Shadow and Batman.
And she was sure he didn’t stop loving her when they ended up going to the same high school and she started helping him out with his studies.
Eddie pined away for her through puppy love, the love grown from friendship, and a romantic love that never got a chance to bloom because after over ten years of living near to each other, Eddie and Alice were separated by college.
Alice had figured out how Eddie felt about her over the years by the time they were in their late teens but she never acknowledged it, waiting for Eddie to be the one to do so. But Eddie never made a move on her. Even when he invited her out to eat or go to the movies, Alice treated it as she always had—they were out together as friends—and he let her. Alice kept waiting for the day Eddie would put his foot down and make it clear that what they were on was a real date, that he wanted her to be his girl, but that day never came; after all, Eddie was no George.
Eddie was quiet, a little shy. Tentative in his dealings with Alice whereas George was outgoing, aggressive—had no problem leading the way. And while Eddie was always a good friend to her, always ready with a willing ear and to show he cared, making it clear he would forever be there for her as a friend, George made it clear he never meant to be her friend—he meant to be her man.
Looking back on it all, Alice knew who she should have ended up with—Eddie would have been the closest thing to the perfect husband for her but passivity ruined their potential; she thought he was too weak back then. She realized that she had also allowed herself to be weak, for even though she would have welcomed him, due to a failure to act on both their parts, Eddie remained just a friend while George became her capturer.
***
Sid wouldn’t have made her do this either.
***
Sunday, November 12th, 1989
So much happened in one day. First, Miriam called out of the blue to find out how she and the children were doing. Her teenagers were not at home: Drew had gone over to a friend’s, excited to play some new video game, and Elaine was also with a friend—she’d said something about shopping, a movie. Or maybe that was yesterday, and it was the library she’d gone to today—Alice couldn’t remember. George was also away—another work project he was working hard on as far as she recalled him mumbling as he left. So Miriam decided to stop by the house.
Miriam greeted her with a kiss on one cheek, then the other, then stared into her eyes for a few seconds.
“Come with me to India,” she said, as if asking Alice to go with her to the kitchen, or to the grocery store.
“To India?” Alice felt her eyebrows rise and she wondered if Miriam had just been on another drug binge. But looking at Miriam, her clear white eyes, her focused stare, she knew that Miriam was simply being herself.
“Yes, to India. Doesn’t it sound exciting? You know you’d love to come with me; you’re bored here.”
“But Miriam, what about the logistics of it? Who would look after the children? How long would we be gone?”
Would George approve?
This last silent question was Alice’s main concern. She knew they could find someone to watch the children easily enough as long as they weren’t gone for an unreasonable amount of time. Perhaps a week? Besides, the teenagers were perfectly capable of taking care of their own needs. But would George protest and forbid her? Make it clear that her place was to stay at home? Would he manipulate her by saying he needed her there, available to him? That he needed her presence, her company, her smile?
“Don’t worry about my brother,” Miriam said like a mind-reader. “I will convince him if he needs convincing—which he won’t.”
***
Alice had never left the United States before; in fact, she had never flown anywhere. Anytime she traveled it was by car which was why she didn’t bother to apply to colleges too far away from her home state. Not that she was actually terrified of flying, she just preferred not to.
She was willing to make an exception in this case because it was an opportunity she could not pass up, one that should not be delayed by days and days on a ship. Plus, she did not want to push it—George had no problem with her going on a trip for a week, but he certainly wouldn’t have allowed two weeks or more, most of which would be travel time. He would probably think she’d get ideas about other men while on a cruise ship, despite the fact that his sister would be accompanying her.
Alice had actually been quite surprised that it had been so easy to convince him to let her go; in fact it appeared as if he liked the idea of them being so far away from each other for that period of time. There almost seemed to be an eager gleam in his eye as he granted the request, a pleasure he was trying to hide. Alice wondered if he felt as she did—suffocating in their agreement and promise to each other—and how that could be when he was the one holding on to her with an octopus-like grip. In any case, she packed her bags quickly and hoped Miriam had made immediate plans because she wanted to leave before he could change his mind.
Alice didn’t think about the flight she’d have to take until she was seated and the airplane was about to take off. Even then, with Miriam seated next to her droning on about what to expect, she did not become fully aware until the plane lifted into the air. She was aware of nothing but the sensation until the airplane stopped tilting upward and leveled out, traveling parallel to the ground. It was then that she became aware that she had gripped both armrests so hard that dents were left behind in her skin. She was sure she had crushed one of Miriam’s fingers in the process—Miriam who had not said a word, had not let out a single squeak of pain but who was now, as she had been the whole time Alice realized, watching her with great interest, her blue eyes unreadable but focused. Alice worked on relaxing her body, attempting a futile yawn per Miriam’s suggestion to help her clogged-feeling ears.
Miriam turned away and changed the subject from the stages of an airplane flight. Alice tried to focus on her words to divert attention from the fact that she was encapsulated in the sky and found herself being pulled in by what Miriam was saying.
Alice had heard of India of course; she knew of shamans and blue gods and serpent tamers. She knew about the brown-skinned, black-haired women with colorful exotic clothing and dots on their foreheads. She knew about the starving children, the homeless urchins. About elephants in the wild, tigers waiting to pounce on unsuspecting humans. She’d heard of this land of colors and danger and beauty.
What she didn’t know, she realized, was why Miriam wanted to go there.
“Because I haven’t been there yet,” Miriam responded simply when asked, shrugging away the question. Alice also wondered why Miriam decided to invite her along this time.
“Because I knew you’d be able to come this time,” Miriam said, leaving Alice as uninformed as she had begun, springing only more questions by her response.
Alice slept through most of the flight once she got bored with it; she couldn’t sustain interest over that many hours. She was grateful it was not a direct flight and that they had the chance to make two stops and stretch their legs.
When they finally landed in India, Alice’s excitement threatened to overwhelm her. That she was thousands upon thousands of miles away from George, had taken her first flight, had left her native country and was now in India all sunk in at once. That she was about to begin an adventure made her feel like her hair would stand on end with all the excessive energy running through her and a lack of sufficient outlets. It had been so long since she had experienced feelings like this, she barely knew how to handle them. She suddenly found herself bubbling over with things to say, her movements jerky. Her excitement thrust her forward quickly, and although she was constantly on the verge of losing Miriam with her pace as she almost hopped and skipped toward baggage claim, at times Alice felt like she was floating on air by way of some hidden charmer.
The assault by the new stimuli squared as they hit open air. Alice felt like a blind person suddenly able to see, her brain overloaded with the new sights, smells and sounds.
As they traveled to their Kerala home-stay family, Miriam decided to share more about what she knew of India. Alice learned from Miriam’s research about the Jallianwalla Bagh massacre, where British troops opened fire on hundreds of unsuspecting locals, the incident which supposedly inspired Mahatma Gandhi to action. Miriam also told her about
sati
where widowed women would jump to their deaths—or be pushed—into their husband’s funeral pyre.
Miriam surprised Alice by her research on the subcontinent before traveling there; it seemed more Miriam’s speed to just jump into things, to fly by the seat of her pants, to leap without looking. Miriam not only learned some historical and cultural items here and there, she had figured out where they would concentrate their touring, how they would travel, where they would stay.
Miriam had thought it best to stay with and get taken around by a local instead of staying in a hotel and missing real flavors by doing the usual tourist stops. She wanted to see how a real Indian family in Kerala lived, what a real home smelled and sounded like. It was not difficult to agree on their accommodations; both saw the value in living as a guest with a local family—in this case, a family consisting of a man, his children and his mother.
His name was Siddharth. He granted Alice’s request to call him Sid. His wife had died in childbirth and he had not remarried. He had two children—eight-year-old Anitha and ten-year-old Nikhil.
Alice thought Sid was handsome behind his dark bushy mustache. He had soft, brown long-lashed eyes, cinnamon skin, and a gentle spirit.
His mother, Padma, was a short, stout, salt and pepper-haired woman with features Alice was sure made her a great beauty in her youth. Her skin was the color of raw sienna.
Sid took Alice and Miriam out for touring while his mother stayed behind in the house, looking after the children, doing all the cooking when she wasn’t doing something else for the house or its members.
Sid took them to places Miriam had made note of to see, and places she had no idea she wanted to see. They visited churches, Hindu temples and the Mosque in Kodungallore. They cruised Kerala backwaters, watched Kathalaki dance performances, and observed the activity on tea plantations.
Alice learned a lot not only from Sid, but from other locals who for the most part, spoke English in addition to their regional language. She learned more about the history, about the various states and the many languages spoken. She learned that they weren’t all brown-skinned; some were fair, some were almost literally black. She learned that the forehead dots were only for married women. And she was treated to some fascinating myths and legends. Most of all, Alice learned her original conclusions about India were not only narrow-minded and uninformed, but that some were downright incorrect.
In parts, Kerala was a paradise. Palm trees, beaches, the backwaters, mountains, aromatic spices in the air and brilliant colors all around—a visual feast of emerald greens of plant life, bright oranges of fabrics draped around brown bodies, and the warm colors of sunset. Other parts of it turned her stomach—garbage strewn about, the smell of piss and sweat.
Still, she realized there was so much more to see, and although they had planned to be there almost a week, there was not enough time to see it all. She now understood why Miriam had planned for them to explore just this one state of India this time around.
Then Miriam surprised her on their fourth day, two days before their departure, announcing she’d be taking off for the whole of the following day, leaving early in the morning. She wanted to travel upland more, a little farther north to see a couple of very specific things while she was there. She’d be gone the entire day, either returning late at night or by midday of the next day—their sixth—at the latest—she didn’t want to be too rude and leave Alice alone too long, even if in very capable hands. Plus their flight would be leaving early the morning after that.
Alice nodded numbly, trying to calm an irrational fear at her words, at the thought of being left alone.
The next day, true to her word, Miriam disappeared.
Alice ate breakfast with her home-stay family then listened to Sid’s plan for the day. Until that point, they had participated in low-effort, laid-back activities—walking around, watching, sitting in a boat. Today, Sid talked about activities requiring further engagement.
“We will see
varayadu,
” he said. “And maybe you will get to pat one.” So they went to Eravikulam National Park at Munnar and she was able to do as he’d said, despite her fears of being butted by the wild goat.