Mary Ellen Courtney - Hannah Spring 01 - Wild Nights (40 page)

Then, without ado, Margaret was swept into the river with everyone else. Her ashes would make their way to the Bay of Bengal. We would meet again, maybe in Hawaii, a drifting orange jellyfish. Or dancing on a grain of sand. Maybe she would lay with her wet dream boy. We can’t know.

My thoughts hadn’t pulled sadness from the past, from all that not knowing, to this split open place in the universe where Margaret had howled, meowed and finally mewed her departure. There’d been no tears. I looked down the row; the Director was gone.

We walked to the top of the steps and out onto the street where everything was still going on everywhere. It was too much for me so soon, to be back out in the chaos of horns and bright colors. I wanted to walk back along the river with Margaret one last time. Ed was tired; he was going back with the men in the car.

He hugged me and said, “She’s happy, I can feel it.”

He blew ash out of my hair and walked up the stairs. Chahel, Dilip and the man I didn’t know, were at the top smiling down on me.

I started back and just like our first walk, little girls in thin dresses with leaf bowls and marigolds skipped up on the uneven dirt path. There was no moon. It seemed dark and late for little girls to be out alone.

I bought a boat and sent the shy flickery flame off to dance with the others. They joined with the reflection of stars on the water until it was hard to tell which were stars and which were flames.

The Aarti was in its full-blown fiery ceremony. Hard-shelled bugs slammed into me. I wrapped the turquoise silk around my mouth and squinted as I passed. I was still alive and I didn’t want to eat a bug.

After passing through the clanging and brilliance of fire on brass, and the confusion of rain beating bugs, it was impossible to pick out the path again in the dark. I turned back to the street. I would have to find my way home in the light and noise. I stumbled and a hand reached out and grabbed mine. A bolt of fear shot through me and I tried to pull away, but it held tight.

“It’s okay,” said Jon. “It’s just me.”

We walked home along the quiet ghats. The buffaloes had gone home for the night. Holy men lay on the stairs, ankles crossed on knees, and looked up at the stars. Rangy dogs were curled around dreams. Someone was singing an evening raga. A harmonium bellowed softly at the music school. Metal dinner plates chimed like cymbals in kitchen sinks. I heard a woman laughing softly, with either a lover or a child. I’d been there so long, it sounded like home.

Everything was quiet in the temple. We climbed the stairs to our room. I kicked off the ash-covered sandals and left them outside the door. I looked out the window as the river slowly carried Margaret on. Jon was with me. He sat quietly at the desk. I stripped off the smoke and incense filled sari and dropped it outside the door with the sandals. Then I bathed. I squatted by the spigots and scrubbed off soot and ash then rinsed over and over. I checked in the mirror, there was a trace of red between my eyebrows that might never come off. My hair was long, wet and loose. Jon was in bed and lifted the light cover. I closed the mosquito net around us and wrapped around him in the narrow bed.

He rolled my pearls slowly back and forth in his fingers like prayer beads. My senses were so acute I could detect the muted odor of smoke and sandalwood soap in the wet string. I realized it was sandalwood that I had smelled in my grandmother’s dress.

“I thought I saw you,” I said.

“I was there.”

“Did you meet Ed?”

“Not yet.”

“I wish you could have met Margaret.”

“I couldn’t get here any faster.”

“How’d you get a visa on a weekend?”

“I got it the week you left,” he said.

“Where’s Chana?”

“Her mother took her to California.”

We were quiet. Pale light from the house next door washed the walls of our room. We could hear family voices. The husband was talking as he came out on the balcony, his voice loud, and then muffled again as he went back inside and the screen door slapped behind him. Spice seeds burst open in a pan of hot oil. Water ran clattering into a pot. There was such clarity to it.

“I’m coming home for a long time,” I said. “I want just one life, as much as possible.”

“You sure? With Chana leaving it will be easier for me to travel.”

“I’m sure. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course, I just don’t want you to get bored living with me. We can work it out.”

“I’m never bored. And this wasn’t a typical day.”

“Good to know. What happened to worrying about the future?”

“I don’t want to worry and live in parallel universes anymore. If we have a child, I want to be mom and dad. I want our grandchildren to know us. I’ll get work if I want it. We’re in the business of drama. This story could hit the front page of
Variety
. But I might try something new.”

“Spring Moon,” he said. “If we have a daughter we could name her Margaret Spring Moon.”

“I like that. We could call her Meggie. That’s what Ed called Margaret.”

“What was your father’s name?”

“Roger Chance.”

“Chance?”

“It’s a family name. Eric’s son is Adam Chance.”

“So Roger Moon if it’s a boy?”

“How about Chance Moon, Chance Jon Moon. Follow form. Do you think it’s too close to Chana?”

“No. I think it sounds right.”

“Ed sang to Margaret last night. It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“What’d he sing?”

“’The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’. It was their theme song,” I said. “I always think of us when I hear Adele sing ‘Lovesong’.”

“You know those words,” he said.

“I do?”

“You do,” he said. “You sing that one straight through.”

He rolled my pearls back and forth.

“I knew when I saw your face the first time,” he said. “You had a Cheerio stuck in your hair.”

“I did?”

“That’s what it looked like.”

“I can’t believe you went for me with a Cheerio in my hair.”

“It was more in spite of it. I don’t think my mind was real involved at that point. But I knew. I just didn’t know it all. ”

“I did too. I thought you were salty and comfortable,” I said. “Do you want to talk about today?”

“I don’t need to right now, unless you do.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me anymore,” I said. “It doesn’t help.”

“I’ll try. After today, I think it will be easier.”

“Why?”

“It took a lot to do that. You can handle what comes.”

“Did you think I couldn’t? I inherited coal mine courage.”

“I know. Let’s just make the best of it.”

I put my mouth to his ear. “Are you talking like my father again?”

“I hope not. I wasn’t thinking fatherly thoughts just then. I don’t even know why I said that.”

“I know why. Will you remind me? When I get scared?”

“I’ll remind you.”

“I’ll remind you not to worry. Every second.”

“Good luck with that,” he said. “You okay about today for now?”

“Yes. The Director said it would be easy and it was. It might have been easier than good-bye. I’m sure it will hit me down the road.”

“Or it could always be fine. It looked right. It’s what she wanted.”

“It felt right. I’m glad you were here. I can’t imagine trying to explain that to you.”

“I don’t think there’d be any way to understand it from a distance.”

“So Chance or Meggie?” I asked.

“Either one,” he said. “Or both.”

We were quiet in our cocoon of mosquito netting. I could feel him against me. I slid down so I was looking into his eyes. “You don’t feel fatherly.”

“It’s been nine months, it’s completely out of my control,” he said. “Do you think Margaret would be upset if we got started?”

“You mean in India? She’d love it.”

“I mean right now.”

“She didn’t like wasted time,” I said.

I slid my hand down his stomach. Ah yes. He was looking a little unsure, who could blame him after today?

“How about you?” he asked.

I licked his ear. He was butterscotch.

“I’m absolutely sure we have to do this,” I whispered. “But we need to be quiet.”

He smiled. “We can try.”

The End