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Saliva dripped down as she latched onto my face and launched into an intense conversation of, well…blah blah.
I loved this little bundle of joy. She was pure in her innocence and uncomplicated.
Unlike her father.
There was no practised ruthlessness hidden behind her cheeky grins. There was no beast waiting to be unleashed. There definitely was no distance between us because, seriously, how much closer can you get than her dribble painting my face?
We were in the midst of an important conversation when my nerves picked up the tension wafting into the room. He moved quietly with the grace of a predatory animal, and he filled the room instantly with an intangible, sizzling fury.
When he finally came into view, standing close to us, eyes hooded, hiding his thoughts, I knew he wasn’t his usual self. I regretted the moment I decided to kiss Adam back. I don’t know why I thought to do it when I’d spent days trying to throw him off. But somewhere in me, there was a desperation that wanted to find out if this love for Antonio was an exaggeration in my damn mind. It wasn’t. That’s what I found out. And that the jealousy spiking up in my husband had no end to it. Days had passed. Still, the static electricity ebbing off him was enough to put me on fire.
“We are leaving for India for a few weeks,” he said, his tone flat, his eyes on my exposed belly.
“Oh.” I tried to loosen the pudgy fist entangled in my hair. A few weeks was a long time.
“Make sure you are packed by tomorrow morning.” He turned to leave.
“Wait.” I snatched Cora and flipped her next to me on her back so I could see him clearly. “Where am I going?”
“To India, of course.”
“What?” I shot upright. “I don’t get it.”
“What is there to get?” He moved his eyes to my face. “You are my wife; you and Cora go where I go.”
He didn’t look happy about it. His stance growled and roared while he remained silent. “I don’t have to,” I said.
“Why not?” The growl spilt out.
Because I wasn’t really his wife.
I couldn’t have this conversation sitting down while he towered over me. Standing up, I faced him, keeping Cora in my peripheral view crawling after her rabbit.
“You don’t look happy about it. If I am bothering you with your work or something, I can stay back.” Plus, I was really not his wife in the proper sense. But I didn’t dare voice that in his dark mode.
“Ridicolo.” He stepped closer, letting his lust-filled eyes drop on my body. “You’ll be my entertainment.”
That was that, then.
Just like that, we were off to India. I didn’t know what type of work he had there to warrant a work visit. I didn’t dare to ask, and he didn’t bother to tell me. I hardly saw him at work, though, except for a few hours on his laptop each day. Instead, we travelled. From the south to the north.
It was strange. Strange but beautiful to be in my father’s homeland. Everything he had told me, described in vivid detail, came to life before my eyes. Déjà vu. It was like watching a movie from a book I had read. I began seeing it, this country, as he would have wanted me to see it.
You either loved or hated India. I loved it. The good and the bad.
The smell was so specific for the country, the humidity almost unbearable, but all things you took in stride with the vibrance of life.
The landscapes were breathtaking, including everything from mountain ranges to coasts, deserts to plateaus. India had it all.
Colours, everywhere, anywhere. Women attired in rich sarees and shalwars, men in sarongs. Even in the cities with Western clothing, everything was so much more colourful. Even the buildings exuded vibrancy.
The spices, the aromatic smell of them, the variety of dishes, so different from the south to the north.
The many languages and the incredible beauty of each of them in written form. It was pure art, the letters comprising of lines and curves.
The music. It haunted me, tingling my nerves with familiarity, dragging me back to a living room in Portsmouth. The same beats, yet different. Everywhere. From the rickshaws to the posh restaurants to our bedroom.
I dived into everything head first, enjoying and leaving the regrets for later. I had left my head back in Boston and packed only my heart for India. My heart loved what it saw. My lub-dubs beat wildly above the chaos and noise of the horns going toot toot in India.
