The Accidental Wife (13 page)

Walking on Eggshells

T
he tiny indistinguishable Greek eatery was bursting at the seams, yet Rihaan managed to secure a couple of seats near a large picture window. He deposited Naina there before making his way through the crowd to join the hungry line at the counter.

She put her head down on the table, thankful for the temporary respite. She was weary, confused and unable to pin him down. Who was Rihaan Mehta really?

Before coming here to the restaurant, he had taken her to a trendy sports store where she was outfitted in lavish winter gear including buying her a couple of jackets (light and heavy), scarves, gloves, hats and boots. When she protested, he’d said, “Would you rather be holed up indoors twenty four-seven throughout the winter?”

He also insisted on getting her a ‘reliable’ bike, smoothly dismissing her outcry at the price-tag. “I doubt you want to get fat. Besides, it’ll get you to work in fifteen minutes flat which is a lot thriftier than a cab.” Thereby effectively rendering her speechless on the topic.

Naina’s eyes drifted to the window. Just outside a young couple stood in an intimate embrace, oblivious to the world around them. Embarrassed, Naina tried to look away but couldn’t. They were kissing with passion, their limbs glued together in a conspicuous sexual pose, yet not for a moment did the act appear vulgar.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?”

Naina turned to her side sharply. Rihaan had the habit of sneaking up behind her and catching her unawares, that too at her vulnerable worst. She chose to take him head-on. “Yes,” she said, “a beautiful picture of love.”

To her surprise, he broke into a wild cynical laugh and almost choked on his monumental gyro sandwich. She glowered at him, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

“That, my dear,” he said finally, “is basic biology, as primitive as it gets. For god’s sake don’t dress it up. Be practical. The guy wants something from the girl and so does she. Am I right?” His eyes locked her in.

She flushed, but had to agree.

“Everybody in this world has a selfish agenda,” he continued wryly. “Nothing comes for free. It’s give and take. As long as we get that we’ll be fine.”

She nodded, staying silent. So that’s what life was all about. ‘Give and take’. It was nice of him to remind her. She had begun to let emotions cloud her perspective. But now it was clear. As clear as cold glass. They were both here for a purpose; to exchange favors and honor debts. End of story. She left the restaurant with a different outlook.

The small incident seemed to resolve the virtual impasse between them. As they were both supposed to be operating on the same side, it was imperative to remain civil.

Things began falling in line. For all purposes, Rihaan and Naina gave the appearance of being in a congenial relationship. To his family they presented the image of a modern young couple in love, but not excessively so. That’d be unrealistic, both agreed. Whereas to the rest of the world they looked like two particularly friendly roommates (they never volunteered the actual nature of their relationship).

She got up with him in the morning and fell into the routine of breaking fast at the corner bagel shop, listening in as he exchanged notes with young Gil behind the counter. His acquaintances became hers and there weren’t many. Central park evolved into a favorite hangout. “Its beauty in winter is only surpassed by spring,” Rihaan informed her as they strolled through the grounds. They jogged along the idyllic bow bridge, soaked up the spirit of the Imagine Mosaic while a random fan strummed a much-loved Beatle tune. They observed novices and pros as they lurched, wobbled and glided across the ice rink while skyscrapers stood sentinel above the low-lying fog.

They walked and biked the streets, traversing every inch of the city’s gigantic subterranean web. They talked, though not much—finding plenty of distractions elsewhere—he with his sharp nose often buried deep in a book and she ever on the lookout for new prospects to ensnare within her camera’s lens. Indeed, they became fairly affable outdoor enthusiasts.

Naina held her own in front of
sasuma
, making inroads into her heart by playing the devoted wife who catered to all her husband’s whims and desires,
and
by assuming the role of the ideal daughter-in-law with incredible poise and grace. She was pleased that Shobha didn’t demand too much of her time—a working woman needed her space—except for the occasional shopping trips and phone conversations during which she coached Naina on the art of keeping Rihaan’s attention engaged and his mind kosher
: “Mera Rihu bahut bhola hai.”
(My Rihaan is very naïve.)

Naina wanted to yell back—
then you don’t really know your son!
But she kept her thoughts to herself, instead conjuring up ways of steering the conversation to things far less personal. After unearthing Shobha’s singular interest in all things edible, she became quite adept at concocting elaborate menus that became a focus of heated discussion with her poor husband the much touted but fictitious guinea pig.

Naina accomplished what Rihaan wanted her to; shielding him without appearing to do so. Shobha wasn’t dumb to not know what she was up to, but instead of being outraged she was pleased—a daughter-in-law who knew how to keep both sides happy.

But when participating in clan gatherings became obligatory, the sharp young pair came up with a cunning, crafted smokescreen. It wasn’t uncommon for friends or family to stumble upon the couple cozying up in semi-secluded spots or observe them exchanging secret smiles and furtive glances. Hence when permission for an early withdrawal was sought, it was rarely denied—their recent exploits fresh in everybody’s mind.

Yet when it came to spending time alone, it was a different ball game altogether. Rihaan and Naina went to extremes to avoid one another. Conversations were stilted at best, and silences so loud they were deafening. They were making a conscious attempt to safeguard themselves and each other from a force so tangible it threatened to shatter the basis of their existence.

Thankfully for Naina, work brought a welcome diversion. Everything was so exciting and disorganized. They weren’t really expecting her—her boss’ secretary who doubled as the human resource manager was off on maternity leave—yet she was welcomed like a long, lost friend. It wasn’t easy to get familiar with the work culture (there seemed none) or her coworkers (an eclectic collection of oddballs from all over the planet that it felt like she was entering the Tower of Babel every day). Yet when it was time to return home, she cringed. She couldn’t handle the strain of having him around, in the same space, breathing the same air and act as if he wasn’t around.

Apparently Rihaan felt the same way, too. Because one night he came forward with his hand outstretched. “I’m Rihaan Mehta and who the hell are you stranger?”

Naina gawked at him. The guy was so weirdly charming that she wanted to fling her arms around his neck and hug him tight. But she restrained herself. She couldn’t afford to give herself away. She managed a smile. “Just hand me a gun and I’ll shoot you.”

He keeled over and pretended to play dead and she collapsed on the floor laughing.

It was a rare moment for them to laugh together.

On one unusually warm December night, they decided to have a late dinner on the balcony. She had cooked his favorite
upma
on special request and he had helped by making sure it was spiced right.

“Any thoughts about the future? Or do you just want to keep saving lives and be a hero?” she asked breaking the silence. It was getting easier to do so now.

He grinned. “You got it right. I don’t think I have space for a wife and kids in my life. Not that I hate women…”
Especially if they are like you
. “But…”

“You don’t have to elaborate. I understand,” she said rather bluntly and stood up.

“What about you?” he asked casually, though he was eager as hell to find out.

“I’m not sure. Maybe if I find the right guy…” She leaned against the railing. “But there aren’t many around I’m sad to say.” She returned abruptly to her chair. His perusal was giving her goosebumps.

“The right guy… And who may that be?” he persisted.

“Someone who understands, loves and respects me. Cares for how I feel. Treats me like a person. There are times when I want a child I can hold and love unconditionally. But I can adopt one, can’t I? What’s all the fuss about?”

“Yes, what’s the bloody fuss about?” he agreed.

They had a wonderful laugh and then got drunk on root beer.

King of Pain

D
r. Rihaan Mehta was taking advantage of an unusual break in his routine. The OR had been taken over by a spate of urgent orthopedic cases, brought on by a sudden bump in the temperatures, which had emboldened the little old ladies to come out of their nests and shatter their fragile bones on the ice.

Stretching his long legs along the length of his office table, he tried to conjure up a power nap. But unlike several of his colleagues who could dictate their circadian rhythms at will, he fell miserably short in the department.

Sighing aloud, he opened his eyes and scanned the decorative cornice that wrapped around the ceiling—a design which always reminded him of the narrow undulations of the cerebral cortex—not unlike the fluctuations of her voice, the rhythmic cadence of her laughter or the vivacious dance of curls about her heart-shaped visage…

“For God’s sake, gimme a break Naina! I’ve got work to do!” he exploded in frustration, then burst out laughing.

Yesterday had been wonderful. Perhaps the most fun he’d had with anyone in a long time. They had wandered over to the Library for the Performing Arts to check out what was on in the Silent Movie Clown series. To their pleasant surprise, they were playing Buster ‘Stone face’ Keaton’s ‘Sherlock Jr’, which happened to be Naina’s personal favorite—one she’d watched several times over and never grown weary off. As a consequence, to Rihaan’s delight, she supplemented the soundtrack with her own insane dialogues, throwing him into splits and consequently leading to an embarrassing eviction from the theater.

He admitted grudgingly that Naina wasn’t what he expected all girls to be. She wasn’t a nag. She understood and appreciated his space and seemed to have a tremendous instinct for his moods and feelings. She knew when to start a conversation and when to leave him alone. She never inquired on his whereabouts. It was very odd to him indeed for a new wife to trust her husband so implicitly.

New wife? Husband? What is making me think like that? In such a domestic fashion? Damnit!

Rihaan stood up suddenly sending his chair crashing to the floor.

“Are you okay?” Anna inquired when she saw him standing in front of the window, a tense set to his broad shoulders.

He swung around and stared vacantly at her for several seconds. “Yes I’m fine. Anything you need?”

“Not really. The phones haven’t been ringing off the hook as usual,” she said, coming to stand in the middle of the room. “It gets kind of boring when you’re not busy.”

“Yes, it does but don’t jinx it. Enjoy it while you can. I’m sure there’s other work to keep you busy,” he said with a dismissive smile, not really enjoying her keen scrutiny. Was it because he hadn’t bothered to change out of his dull grey surgical scrubs, or that his beard was over two days long?

“Do you have a girlfriend, Dr. Mehta?”

“No. I don’t. Anna, I really have to go over this case for tomorrow. It’s rather involved.” He turned toward his computer.

“Then you must be gay.”

His mouth dropped open.
The gall of the girl! She’s asking to be fired! But then, where will I find a secretary as good as her?
“Of course not! Whatever gave you the idea?”

“Well…” She shrugged her shoulders innocently. “A handsome man like yourself who doesn’t have a steady girlfriend is either a sociopath or gay. Most of the best-looking men out there are and that’s such a waste.” She eyed him deliberately before leaving the room.

Rihaan was perturbed. He wondered what else was floating around in the grapevine about him. He’d hoped to keep his work free from his personal life. It appeared he had no choice but to expand the web of deceit.
So be it.

***

It’s such a small world, thought Naina, observing her table mates. No matter who we are or where we come from, our problems unite us.

Naina had been getting a late snack at the Soup Spot, located on the first floor of her workplace—a 1920s neo Gothic skyscraper right in the center of downtown Manhattan—when she was joined by two women who proclaimed to be her greatest fans. They introduced themselves to her as her colleagues: Maria, a six foot tall Swede, silver-maned, basketball player who spent her time deep sea diving off the coast of Queensland, Australia trying to deduce what ailed the Great Barrier Reef; and Adamma, a ravishing French Nigerian, whose life’s sole mission was to bring the ruthless ivory poachers of South Africa to book. Overawed and flattered, Naina could only listen in wondrous silence as they extolled her achievements as if she was the Jane Goodall of street children.

Naina finally broke out laughing. “I’m sorry but you are mistaken. I’ve done nothing of the sort. They are just photographs I took to raise awareness. Though I wish I could do more.”

“You can and you will,” Maria said. “Everyone who comes to
Landscape
does. For instance, take your absent mentor, Farzad Abadi. At one time he used to be a boring professor of anthropology. Now he’s among the few brave enough to be reporting from the dead center of the Syrian civil war! Talk about Indiana Jones in real life!” She laughed, seeing Naina’s face turn apprehensive. “There’s no pressure to emulate him. It’s just his way of keeping himself from missing his wife.”

At this Adamma let out a sigh of languish. “Don’t remind me. Men!”

And then the discussion turned to the usual—boyfriends, spouses and beleaguered sex lives.

Maria’s dull face lit up abruptly. “Now that’s someone I’d love to share my bed with anytime! And am I lucky or what? He’s coming this way!”

Naina looked up and spotted none other than Rihaan striding toward their table with his hazel eyes fixed intently on her. She swallowed hard, trying to look composed as her spoon slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

“I need you to come with me right now,” he said grabbing her arm. “Sorry ladies, she’ll be back before long.” He winked at her agog colleagues and led her out the door without further preamble.

“What do you want me to do?” Naina asked nervously as they rode the elevator to his fifth floor office suite.

“Be my wife as always.” He gave her an enigmatic smile before waving her ahead through the automatic glass doors.

She was at once impressed by the aesthetically designed interiors intended to put the anxious mind at ease or at least try to. She saw a couple of patients in the waiting area, one of whom came hurrying forward to shake Rihaan’s hand the moment she saw him. Seeing the respect and gratitude in her eyes, Naina’s heart swelled with pride.

“Come with me.” He grasped Naina’s hand and led her through a side door into the back area where offices and exam rooms lined the hallway on either side; then through another door into what looked like a lounge, where a few women in scrubs sat around chatting. They all looked up curiously at the both of them.

“Here’s my surprise,” he announced, “my lovely wife, Naina.”

There was a moment of bewildered silence, and then a bustle of activity all at the same time.

“Oh no!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I knew it! The wily rascal!”

“Awww…she’s adorable! You truly deserve her, doc!”

These were followed by a volley of indignant, but good-natured questions which Rihaan fended off as best as he could, while Naina, keeping a bright smile on her face, tried to unobtrusively extricate herself from his solid hold.

Rihaan introduced the curvaceous, young blonde as Anna, his medical assistant. “She keeps my life running like a well-oiled machine, while my beautiful wife happily reduces it to shambles. I couldn’t do without either!” He laughed as if at a fantastic joke.

Naina saw Anna’s face crumble. Rihaan must be blind, but to her it was as clear as if Anna had written it in bold letters on her forehead— “I’M CRAZY FOR MY BOSS!” Truthfully, Naina mused, Anna could have been the ideal companion Rihaan sought. She was familiar with all his needs and would have adjusted perfectly to his schedule. But would she have been able to handle his aloofness and cold rationality? Would she be able to check her emotions?

Anna will recover,
Naina thought. She’s young and pretty and probably has many suitors.
But what about me? How will I heal my heart?
She stared accusingly into Rihaan’s eyes before walking out.