Summer

The first time he laid eyes on her she was sitting in the lobby, furrowed brow and set jaw, exuding determination. He would get to know that expression intimately over the next few weeks. As he would also soon discover, the almost imperceptible nervous energy he thought he had noticed was completely out of character for one with such a blithe and capricious nature. Maybe it was that sliver of vulnerability, real or imagined, which made the moment memorable for him. It was the briefest of exchanges: a walk across the room, a half curious sideward glance, a sudden raising of the eyes. Did they even make eye contact? Did she look at him or through him? He would regularly revisit that memory, painstakingly analysing what exactly he had felt in that instant, with the conclusions varying markedly and often. They say there is no such thing as a true memory, every time we recall something our brain reproduces a copy from fragments of stored information, an echo of the original. Each subsequent copy is an estimation with minor details altered, in turn overwriting the previous version. In essence, every memory is a lie and the more frequent the recollection the bigger the lie.

He didn’t see her for a few days afterwards and did not give her much thought, although he did hear about her with increasing frequency. Their next encounter was at lunch and this time it was her laugh that caught his attention. He heard it as he was making his way to the table, a loud and shrill squeal that would’ve been irritating had it not been so full of unadulterated joy. Instead of being annoyed, he found himself smiling as well. He picked a spot across the table from her, far enough that he could observe her surreptitiously. She was of a darker complexion, but it was hard to tell if it was ancestry or the summer sun that was responsible for it. She had sharp features, a hawk nose with a pronounced curve, thin lips, a delicate chin and dimples that appeared without warning. She had big eyes whose size and roundness seemed to be directly correlated to how excited she was at that moment. Independently her features may have been unremarkable but on her highly animated face these individual elements came together and created a whole that was curiously attractive.

“…And first class is just so much better, it was a long trip but I barely noticed it. Good food and good company, I don’t think there is much more to ask for in life. As you can tell, I am easy to please.”

“I agree, Paris would be magical but the food there is so appalling! It’s just so French if you know what I mean. But London? Anyone from anywhere in the world could find a restaurant in London that would remind them of home!”

“I absolutely love to dance! Oh yes, this has been such a great afternoon I think I’ll have another glass, even if I regret it later.”

It was very enjoyable to be around her, she entertained in the most genuine and unassuming manner. And that could very well have been the end of it but in a moment of spontaneity that he could not understand then or later, she looked directly into his eyes and said “So what do you think? Custard or ice cream?” He was taken aback and it took him a couple of seconds to gather himself while she stared at him with arched eyebrows and the ghost of a smile. 

“Uh…I…I” he stammered “I personally prefer the ice cream, with the summer and all of it…” 

“Then I believe I will have the ice cream as well. Thank you for helping a girl out. And if it’s not any good, know that I know your face now” she said as the dimples made another appearance, solely in his honour this time it seemed.

That night he had trouble falling asleep. He kept reliving that afternoon - both before and after she spoke to him. She was so confident and charismatic, it baffled him why she had decided to single him out during lunch. He smiled to himself as he remembered how she had commanded the entire table, holding everyone’s attention, drawing them in, making them include her in every conversation. She was new so of course there was the usual amount of curiosity about her, but even a blind person couldn’t miss how quickly everyone had become enamoured with her. She possessed that indescribable quality which makes a person instantly likeable, as if they remind you of your favourite niece, the daughter who hasn’t visited home in a while, your wife when she was younger or the one that got away. Maybe, she just reminded everyone of a better time when the simple pursuit of joy was not just acceptable but celebrated. He closed his eyes, surprising himself by thinking that he was looking forward to the rest of this summer.

Fate seemed to have very specific plans for him over the next couple of weeks, dropping all of its customary subtlety in favour of brashness. It was ironic the way they kept running into each other and it would be an affront to his rationality if he didn’t consider it a sign of a higher power at play. They would see each other during meals almost everyday. She always preferred the buffet when he was around and she would show up for afternoon tea on days when he wasn’t at the croquet lawns. What were the odds that they would get paired when she decided she had to improve her tennis game? There was no pattern to these run-ins, no schedule or common interests to justify such frequent encounters, a fact that was not lost on him at all. She was whimsical and her growing popularity meant that she always had invitations to a variety of activities, which made these coincidental encounters even more uncanny. The only area in which she showed unfailing consistency was her tardiness at breakfast. She would invariably be late, more often than not being the only person in the hall. But this worked to increase their intimacy as his schedule allowed him to keep her company. Not that it would’ve mattered, she demanded that they ‘chit chat’ during breakfast and she loved to talk. He knew that she preferred buttered toast and jam but chose to not indulge as a lady must always be ‘petite’. She loved to sunbathe and dearly missed the English countryside. The food in their small cantonment town, according to her, was responsible for half her misery, the sweltering summer heat accounting for the rest of it. She had to convince the Colonel and his wife to allow her access to the club this summer as she wasn’t a member and hence, she must always appear gracious and grateful.

What she was not, was self absorbed. Despite all her charm and grace, she was driven by an innate and unrestrained curiosity that made her ask the most blunt questions. Where did he grow up? How many siblings did he have? What did he think of club’s secretary and his daughter? Weren’t they so stuck up? Was he happy? He was a reticent man by nature and discretion had been bred in him in a professional capacity, yet he found a guilty joy in opening up to her, sharing his opinions and desires. She always wanted to know more about him and he had never tasted a headier wine.

Over four weeks flew by and they were nearing end of summer, at the cusp of monsoon. Soon, it would start pouring and while respite from the heat would be a blessing, it would be a short lived feeling. Within a few days every field would transform into a lake and every dirt road into a gushing stream. Mud would consume all and all activity would seize as the denizens waited indoors for the thunder and rain to dispel their fury. Today’s loathsome sun would be worshipped as the saviour tomorrow, as both masters and servants alike prayed for its briefest glimpse to dry the piling laundry and prevent every house from smelling like a wet dog. But all of this would happen after the annual summer dance, the most awaited social event of the year. Culture and values of the homeland tend to get exaggerated amongst expatriates, who always overcompensate by trying to pass as more authentic than their kith and kin back home. The result was that this town was more steeped in conservative Victorian values than was feasible but the balance of civil society was maintained via deliberately designed instances of carte blanche such as the summer dance. It was the one night when residents could behave with reckless abandon, safe in the knowledge that the gossip and scandals of the night would not only turn tepid by the end of the monsoon but also provide essential fodder for conversation in the weeks of being cooped up indoors. Indeed, in this regard the civic minded members of society went above and beyond in the execution of their perceived duties.

He was part excited and part terrified, the tug of war between his limited view of his self worth and irrepressible hope was excruciating. He was so confused it was as if he was perennially drunk, constantly oscillating between euphoria and abject misery. His head spun and every thought was punctuated by visions of her: her exotic skin, the aquiline nose with the perfectly placed freckle, the way she floated rather than walked. His trance was broken by the conversation around him, did someone mention her? His focus returned and he paid more attention to the words of his colleagues and acquaintances. They were discussing her, one of them had overheard her discussing her plans of returning to England in the fall. His heart started sinking and he could barely see what he was doing. He had no choice but to listen intently. Apparently, she had just received word that a gentleman, the Colonel’s nephew, would arrive any day now. They would then continue on their way up the mountains to holiday till the end of the monsoon when they would take a ship back home. This was her summer audition and she had passed with flying colors, they had the family’s blessing to get married. He couldn’t breathe, his chest constricted and his stomach felt like a bottomless pit. He could feel his face and ears burn, despite the acute pain he desperately hoped no one would notice his flushed face. He barked a laugh to join in with the rest, mostly from well trained instincts, as he vaguely heard some crass jibe about her acting skills and the sheer cluelessness of the Colonel and his wife. He mumbled some excuse and stumbled back to his quarters, stunned and mute. As he lay numb and motionless, he began to slowly but steadily build a pyre of self hatred in his chest. He couldn’t believe how naively he had acted, allowing himself to falsely believe he was worth more. He had acted like a common drunk, a disgusting opium fiend, wagging his tail and crawling towards a quick fix that would make him forget this reality and indulge in fantasies that he couldn’t afford. As tears trickled down the side of his face, he stuffed the pillow into his mouth and screamed silently. He re-lived the last month again, every memory had more meaning and pain that came along with the clarity.

The evening was progressing splendidly for most present. The club dazzled in the lights, the band played a soft tune and glasses clinked a lot. The excitement was contagious. He was barely there, his mind a million miles away but he didn’t dare to be absent physically. He did the rounds as he was expected to, politely smiling and mumbling niceties, all the while his subconscious did it’s best to avoid her. But there was only so much to be managed in the confines of a country club during a dance. They ran into each other a few times and he always managed to escape without directly addressing her. She was somewhat surprised and looked at him quizzically but there was so much activity that night, she was soon distracted herself.

It was nearly ten when he felt her standing behind him, he couldn’t guess how she had managed to sneak up on him despite his best efforts. “Get me a drink” she said, “I am partial to the champagne tonight, as awful as it is.” The look on her face said she would brook no argument, he had come to know that expression very well. He did as we was told and she drained the glass immediately after he handed it to her. “Another one” she said as her cheeks flushed slightly. After she downed the second one she merely handed him the empty glass and stared at him with flared nostrils. When he didn’t move she said in a low, threatening tone “You’ll do as you’re told.” This time she didn’t take a sip but smiled gently, “Meet me out back in five minutes” and walked away with the drink sloshing in her hand.

She walked up to him slowly and stood very close to him. “What’s gotten into you tonight, aren’t you having fun?”

Her hair had started coming undone, strands slipping out of the tight bun and there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead and nose. 

“I always thought you were different. You aren’t like the rest of the narrow minded, intolerant fools in this place. Always gossiping and acting so superior, I hate it!” She giggled and took a step closer to him, they were almost touching.

“There is natural charm in living in the moment, in not worrying about the future, or tomorrow or the next moment. I love the freedom that comes with being fully present, enjoying all of it. They hate me because I can do what I want and they can’t. They don’t have the courage.”

“But you understand me, you are a lot like me. Just quieter” she whispered.

He wanted to tell her that he was nothing like her but the smell of her perfume made him swoon. He could barely hold himself together as she stepped into him, pressed against him and gently leaned in to kiss him. He tasted her and all his senses exploded, he started breathing heavily. She stopped for a moment and then continued to kiss him more aggressively, ravaging him. This time she was breathless when they stopped. She took his hand and started to lead him towards the dark garden beyond the glow of the courtyard lights. “Hurry, I have to be back before they miss me.”

He woke up then next morning with his chest pounding and a smile on his face. Memories from the previous night were hazy, a fact that annoyed him immensely. He wanted to lay in bed and experience every moment again, every minute detail. The thought of seeing her again filled him with excitement and he headed out. There were hardly any people about, recovering from last night’s exertions no doubt. It was late morning and he knew he’d be seeing her soon.

They were walking towards him as he neared the steps to the main entrance. The man had broad shoulders and that look of entitlement that was all too familiar here. She seemed almost tiny next to him as she looked up into his face, talking animatedly. She was laughing and he seemed content having her on his arm. As the couple approached, she gave him a brief look and her usual smile. “They know me here, I’m a regular” she chimed, then looked at the man again “There is little else to do, I’ve missed you so terribly!”

She looked directly at him again “I’ll have my regular and a coffee for the gentleman. Black, two sugars. Please bring it out to the patio, we’ll be sitting outside. It’s such a beautiful day.”