Valmiki's Daughter (31 page)

The thought that others wondered just what it was that he had — besides money — that could have attracted to him a woman like Anick preyed on his mind and emotions. Nayan wondered what these others would think of him for marrying a woman who, before marriage, had lived in a way that was so contrary to everything he had been taught was proper in a woman and a wife. What if they knew of her past affairs with other women? What would they think of him then? Even though it was well in the past, this was a major aspect of what drove him apart from Anick now.

For a time, Bally thought that Nayan was an idiot for complaining about his wife when he, Bally, would give anything to have a woman like Anick bring up his children, cook his food, lie with him in his bed. In time, he realized that Anick was not the type of woman who would consent to live above a store on a busy road, nor to stay at home to look after him, the house, and
children. Bally wanted to help his friend, and offered his wife's company. Shanti could show Anick, by example, how to keep an Indian man's home, while Anick might inspire Shanti to be less shy, to lose some weight, dress a little less conservatively — in short, inspire in him the kind of chivalry and desire he felt, without speaking of it to Nayan of course, for Anick.

But what happened was that one of the children came to look forward to Anick's visits and waited up for her arrival. Anick was obliged to read stories to him, change him into his pyjamas, and tuck him into bed. At first it was sweet, cute, funny, but although Shanti tried to show her best face, resentment coloured her cheeks. Bally treated Anick as if she were the child's surrogate mother, and this irritated both women. It was not Anick's favourite way to spend an evening. Still, Shanti sewed well, and there was much looking at magazines and talk of what would look good on Shanti, what would look good on Anick, and what of these Shanti might make. The women even went out on their own in the daytime, with a chauffeur provided by Nayan, to the fabric store down the road. But Anick could only do so much of this kind of socializing, and no more.

Meanwhile, Anick was not unaware of Bally's attentions and fielded his underhanded advances, not daring to tell Nayan. Neither Nayan nor Shanti knew that Bally phoned Anick at home, and that she as often entertained his calls as she chided him for them. In the end, though, she couldn't understand why Nayan chose to have such a close friendship with a man who was not as educated as he, and whose background was so different from his. In France it would not have mattered to Anick that a man like Bally did not know his father. Nor would it have mattered in France that Bally, having not inherited anything, had to rely on himself for a future. His fortitude and acumen, viewed
through one of that culture's lenses, might well have been lauded. But within the Trinidadian culture Anick was slipping into unconsciously (even as, at other times, she rebuffed it consciously), Bally was sorely lacking. His heritage could not be determined, and his longevity in business had no precedence.

And so the once-carefree Frenchwoman, in trying to grab onto a slippery foothold in Trinidad, finally chose sides. She begged Nayan to make an effort to befriend businesspeople with longer and more presence in business — the ones, for instance, who took pride in their work and country, paid attention to the architecture of the buildings that housed their businesses and to the design of their homes, and certainly those who patronized charities and the arts. These were often the same people who holidayed abroad, not just in Miami for the sole purpose of business or profit, profit, profit, but in London, Paris, Venice, Delhi, Mexico City, places that packaged and sold their histories. They went for the sheer enjoyment of getting away and of learning, experiencing the new. These people were, too, the same ones who tended to have holiday homes on the small islands in the Gulf of Paria, an archipelago known as “down the islands,” and had yachts, racing boats, and racing horses, and who had expressed the desire umpteen times to get together with Nayan and Anick.

But Nayan now accused Anick of wanting to spend time with these people because they were so worldly that they would accept or even laud her strange sexual deviance. He had watched them carefully and he saw suggestions in some of the men and the women of homosexual tendencies. He spotted signs that he was unable to adequately articulate. Trying to warn Anick, he could only say, “Well, don't you see how short her hair is? And how big her hands are?” And, “Why does he have to wear a bag
like that? He is not in Paris or Rome. There isn't anything a man carries around that can't fit in his pants pocket. He wears it because he wants to hold a handbag.”

What frightened and angered him was that he couldn't be sure what these apparent signs actually meant. He watched every interaction Anick had with these particular other women, to see how they looked at each other or touched each other, and feeling vulnerable by association himself, he monitored the other men's interactions with him. They so easily touched each other, but not with the slaps on the back or big animated handshakes he shared with Bally and other men who were more like himself. The gestures of these men were small, too delicate to be coming from real men. They seemed so reserved and polite and good-humoured, clean-humoured, on the outside, but who hadn't heard of their transgressions? These people Anick liked so much better than his simpler family friends such as Bally and the Krishnus, these rich types who did all this travelling, the ones from the other islands and from Port of Spain, too — despite the longing for acceptance they incited in Nayan, they made him a little sick.

Nayan demanded to know what Anick felt was lacking in him and his family. Pressed to answer, she accused him of using Bally's insufficiencies to boost his own ego. Such transparency in Nayan only angered him. He could not openly fight Anick in his father's house as he might have fought had they been in a house of their own. So he found quiet but deeply cutting ways to respond. He stayed away from home even more often, and drank everyday, even with his lunch. He declined, as if out of spite, invitations from the people in the north, and those from anyone of interest to Anick, in favour of spending time with Bally or having a drink with his workers. Anick had no choice but to
forgo those invitations and instead visit with Bally's wife — if, that is, she didn't want to stay at home with Nayan's parents. And she certainly did not.

WHEN, A COUPLE OF WEEKS AFTER HER DINNER AT THE PRAKASHS,
Viveka invited Nayan and Anick to her parents' house for a meal that she herself would cook, Nayan implored Anick to go without him. He would call Viveka and tell her that Anick was free but that he had a previous engagement, and he would take the opportunity to see Bally about some business. He didn't tell Anick that he wouldn't be able to bear watching her be the centre of attention, a position that made him feel ridiculed. He imagined, with disdain, Anick and Viveka tossing between them the names of artists, musicians, writers, cultural movements. And he imagined himself and the rest of his family made out to be dolts.

FOR TEN DAYS, VIVEKA HAD RESEARCHED VARIOUS COOKING TRADI
tions and recipes. The information she devoured on food and chefs of the highest regard internationally cited either French or Chinese or both traditions as having the major influence and as the two greatest culinary traditions in the world. If she had come across a statement like that in one of her courses at the university she would have flown into an intellectual tizzy about who had the power, investments, and narrow-mindedness to make such ridiculous declarations, but now she merely seized on the notion and decided to match Anick's meal of boeuf bourguignon with something Chinese of equal grandeur. After hours spent at the university's library and on the Internet, she put together a meal of several courses that consisted of regional recipes cited as “authentic” by their Chinese author-chefs. As there had long been a good-sized Chinese population, and therefore a tradition of Chinese food, in Trinidad, ingredients such as dried mushrooms, dried tangerine peels, five-spice powder, Shaoxing wine and more were easily available.

Devika and Vashti set the table, and even though there were the four Krishnus and only one guest, the table was rather formal. They did not have the style of dishes in which authentic
Chinese courses would have been served, so they made do with the best there was: white bone china dishes with a heavy twenty-four-karat gold border, and the heavy cut-lead crystal wine and water glasses from Brazil, and the silver-plate cutlery that was otherwise kept in a locked buffet cabinet drawer and used only for special guests. Viveka's mother had made for the top of the buffet cabinet a lovely arrangement of flowers from the garden, yellow and deep pink gerberas, white chrysanthemums, with long unruly strands of purple baby bougainvilleas dramatically waving out of it all. There were candles, too. Nothing had been spared for this sole guest. For anyone else she might have thought it too much, but Viveka was pleased.

The meal turned out well, but sadly for Viveka, there wasn't much comment on the food except to say, My God, this is a lot, a veritable feast! And conversation at the dinner table was strained. Usually, a dinner with friends at that same table would have been a lively affair and laughter would fill the room, a good mix of lewd jokes scattered like chips on a gambling table by Valmiki and even by Devika — once she had sipped a glass or two of wine. And there would be some pertinent gossip, some local politics, some local news, and catching-up types of conversation. But this evening was subdued. Anick's hesitant English, and the Krishnu family's inability to see that, in order for her to comprehend, a certain amount of background information was necessary on just about every person, place, or thing that they spoke of, resulted in conversation that was restrained. No one was at ease.

After groping about in the dark forest of cultural difference for topics of mutual interest with this unusually private guest, Valmiki raised the subject of hunting as a pastime. This intrigued Anick. She was interested in the flora and fauna of the Trinidad
forest and had finally been taken on a short walk into the forested cacao lands in Rio Claro, but said flatly that she was appalled by hunting as sport. Viveka intuited that Anick was hoping for a discussion on the ethics of hunting, but Valmiki wouldn't have thought to argue with any guest in his house, particularly a woman. He wasn't really interested in the flora or fauna and couldn't tell Anick much about the birds he had taken from the forests. That topic appeared and disappeared like a shooting star.

As everyone fumbled through the dinner, they occasionally heard the birds whistle to one another from their cages. Now Valmiki felt self-conscious and childish for having trapped them. What Devika wanted to talk about — Anick's parents-in-law and the cost of vegetables at the market — irritated Anick. She was unable to hide her irritation, and Viveka was embarrassed that her mother could talk of nothing else, not even to show an interest in Anick's past or to hear her opinions of Trinidad and life here. After dessert of cold red-bean-and-tapioca soup, Devika and Valmiki made their apologies and retired earlier than usual.

Vashti was curious about Nayan's foreign wife at first, but out on the patio as Viveka and Anick bonded over their mutual interest in the fine arts, literature, philosophy, and other subjects, she became bored. She drifted into daydreaming, and eventually roused herself and turned in.

Once she and Viveka were alone, Anick initiated the French conversation practice they had begun by phone over the past couple of weeks.

“D'accord, mais je suis . . . timid,” ventured Viveka.

“Pas timid. Timide. Tee-meede.”

“Tee-meede? Oh, okay. Je suis timide. Is that better?”

“Oui, tres bien. Mais, c'est mieux si tu developpes un bon accent des le debut.”

“Oh my God. I didn't . . . Je ne comprend pas . . . a single mot . . . tu as dis. You'll have to . . . Lentement . . . Okay, okay. Let me try this. . . . Pouvez vous parler plus lentement, si'l vous plait?”

This kind of exchange seemed, oddly, more intimate to Viveka than when she and Elliot had kissed. It was a little frightening, and yet she felt brazen. She had pushed Elliot away, but now she so easily laid the vulnerability of fumbling for language like a cloak on the ground for Anick to tread on.

It was Anick who eventually called the impromptu session to a close and the two women reverted to English. It was as if they had been in a movie theatre, watching something beautiful yet a little illicit, and suddenly the movie had ended and the lights had come on. But now that they were alone, Anick spoke English with much less hesitation than she had done at the table, and this too seemed intimate. There grew between them a boldness and a closeness that both frightened and weakened Viveka. There had been wine at the dinner table, they had drunk modestly and eaten heartily. That had been a couple of hours ago, and now Viveka felt as pleasantly drunk as if she and Anick had just shared a magnum between them.

EVENTUALLY, NAYAN ROLLED HIS CAR UP. VIVEKA COULD SEE HIM
making his way in drunken bliss to the door. Anick appeared suddenly sober in the glare of his presence. He wanted to sit with them on the patio, stay for a while, but Anick insisted on leaving right away.

After they left, Viveka locked up the house and readied herself as quietly as she could for bed. She lay wide awake for hours thinking about what had transpired between her and Anick when they
had been left alone. Anick had been sitting on the loveseat of the patio set, and Viveka, at first, on an armchair. She had gone to the kitchen to get them both drinks of sorrel, and when she returned she tucked herself into the loveseat, managing in that small sofa to create enough space between them for still another person to slide in. Both women now looked straight out into the darkness of the garden, the lights of Pointe-à-Pierre shimmering beyond.