The Accidental Wife (15 page)

And even though Rihaan thought the contractions were false he wasted no time in summoning a cab and packing both husband and wife to the closest ER, which he alerted by calling ahead.

Naina looked on curiously as Rihaan chatted with the ER doc.

“Hi, Ben. How’s business?” Rihaan asked. “Not much going on? Don’t give up hope. The night’s still young… Listen old chap, I’d like you to do me a favor. I’m sending over my friend’s wife. She’s about six months or so pregnant and is having pains. They started tonight when we were at a restaurant having dinner together… No, she hadn’t had anything to eat yet… My gut tells me they aren’t real but a little reassurance goes a long way especially if it comes from someone like you.” He grinned. “Thanks for taking a look at her. Her names’s Shirin and she’s got her husband with her. He could do with some psychotherapy too…”

Later, when they were alone again, Naina asked, “So you think she’ll be fine?”

“Yes. I believe so. Shirin will be A-okay!” He smiled. “The little drama queen wanted to teach her wayward husband a lesson. Besides, how could I ignore
my
wife’s opinion?”

“You’re so bloody confident about it all, aren’t you?” Naina shot back.

He burst out laughing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s habit. I’ll try hard to curb my instincts in the future, if you wish.”

“No. Don’t. I like it,” she said and blushed. “Anyhow, at least this way we get some peace and quiet.”

And sure enough, despite the merrymaking all around them, the environment seemed tranquil as they strolled companionably through the streets, window shopping and getting blinded by the dazzling colors of the night. They satisfied their hunger at an all-night deli before steering toward the overcrowded Times Square.

“Wait!” Rihaan suddenly exclaimed before running inside a small trinket store.

He emerged a few minutes later with a Wonder Woman pin that he fastened to her coat.

“For me?” she exclaimed, nonplussed.

“Yes for you,” he replied softly. “For being so good to me. I hope I can repay you for it all someday. Until then, keep this as a reminder.”

There were several street vendors doing brisk business. Rihaan grabbed a large hot chocolate for himself. “We need something to toast with. What would you prefer?”

“I’m not thirsty,” Naina politely refused.

***

As soon as they entered the famed square, she was overcome by a pulse of excitement that seemed to throb through the entire gathering. She knew Rihaan felt it too, even though he didn’t mention it. She glanced up and saw him looking at her and not at the stage where Bruce Springsteen was belting out “Born in the USA.” Rihaan’s eyes were unusually bright.

She shivered. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Not now, later,” he said loudly before folding her tight against his chest. “So you don’t get lost.”

She didn’t care if he was lying or telling the truth. It was the best prescription he could have made out for her. She rested her head on the soft wool of his coat and closed her eyes, abruptly seized by an overwhelming urge to peel away the layers and connect with his bare flesh. She grew warm at the thought.

A sudden hush descended on the crowd and the countdown began. She watched with baited breath at the glittering crystal ball as it dropped, but her vision was obscured when a pair of sensuous lips came down hard upon hers.

Hot chocolate never tasted so good.

Sweet Love, Harsh Words

L
ate one evening Rihaan returned to the apartment and immediately stepped back to check the number. He wasn’t hallucinating, it was undoubtedly his. The reason for his ambiguity was legitimate: the usually quiet and peaceful place was abuzz with activity, and the ambience that greeted him was most decidedly
desi—
the man of the house; in this case his father, lounged in front of the living room television, sipping fresh
kadak
chai
, while the females (his mother and wife he presumed) generated domestic fervor in the kitchen.

His eyes automatically sought the couch and were relieved to see no traces of his bedtime accoutrements.

“My son! Welcome home. Long day at work?” Shashank exclaimed, half rising from his seat.

“Why are you here?” Rihaan retorted, not particularly elated.

“Oh c’mon
beta!”
Shobha cajoled, smiling cheerfully, as she emerged bustling from the kitchen. “Give your parents some leeway. We were in the neighborhood and decided to surprise
bahu
at work and she graciously invited us home. Right, Shashank?” She glanced pointedly at her spouse who concurred.

“Naina is a very smart girl. She understands that I want to indulge in my mother-in-law instincts which you’ve so efficiently managed to curb. But more than that, I wanted to see my son and his wife playing house for real.
Ghee seedhi ungli se na nikle, toh ungli tedhi karni padti hai.”
(If we don’t find a way, we have to make one.)
She gave a wistful sigh before heading back.

He followed, intent on making it clear, that just because he’d taken a wife, by no means did it give her, his mother, free reign over his life. But what he saw there brought an immediate diversion to his purpose—the image of his beautiful wife wrapped in a traditional sari. It was a simple yet clever garment worn with a dual purpose in mind—to please her in-laws by presenting them a vision of ideal domestic harmony, while simultaneously promising her husband never-ending conjugal bliss. The lure of the unstitched garment was such that it transformed his already lovely wife into a beguiling
apsara
causing his nerve endings to go on edge thus making him lose control over all his senses.

“The
paneer
is burning,” Shobha said, gently removing the spatula from her daughter-in-law’s hand. “Rihaan! Stop making your
biwi
nervous.” She popped a couple of savory
pakoras
into his startled mouth. “Now leave us women to our work and take your Dad outdoors. I want to air the apartment. The smoke tends to irritate his lungs.”

Shobha unceremoniously hustled both father and son out and began throwing open the windows.

But as soon as they were on the street Shashank dug into the inner realms of his overcoat and produced a cigarette. He then proceeded to light it.

“Dad!” Rihaan exclaimed. “I thought you said you had quit.”

“I have,” his father replied after taking a long drag. “But sometimes I like to smoke because it helps me think.”

“Think?” Rihaan broke into a short laugh. “It only helps you die a nasty death.”

“You’re being exceptionally blunt today, son.”

“Yes, but sometimes ‘blunt’ is what works,” Rihaan replied unfazed.

“Alright, then I’ll be forthright with you too,” his father said looking him straight in the eye. “Something wrong between you and Naina?”

“No, absolutely not. Whatever gave you the idea? Anyhow, I don’t appreciate you poking your nose into my personal business. Mom has done enough damage as is.” Rihaan looked down, embarrassed, his eyes fixed on his shoes.

“It
is
my business,” Shashank remained steadfast. “You are and so is your wife. She’s now my daughter and her happiness is my concern. I understand in a new relationship there can be some rough spots, but
you
chose her and it is obvious she chose you. Perhaps you both rushed into it, but it’s been awhile now and she’s a gem. It’s hard for me to believe that you don’t get along. I’d love to help if I could.”

“You can’t, because nothing’s wrong. Not a damn thing!” Rihaan said, leaning back against the iron fence, his lips pursed into a thin line.

“You were a wonderful boy who has grown into a wonderful man and I’d also like to say a loving husband. But I’m concerned you’re not happy.”

“Don’t think too much, Dad. It’s bad for your health,” Rihaan said grinning suddenly. He walked up to Shashank and put an arm around his shoulder. “It’s time to savor the toxic waste our dear wives have together concocted for us, don’t you think?”

An hour or so later, Rihaan paced back and forth across the living room floor. His father yawned, not the least under the influence of the high carb Indian meal he’d just overindulged in. “Relax, and sit down for god’s sake.”

“You aren’t leaving?” Rihaan asked.

“Well…we are as soon as…” Shashank started.

“No, we are not,” his mother said, emerging from the bedroom after a prolonged tete-a-tete with her daughter-in-law. She shook her head. “Rihu, my baby, I can always trust you to be polite. But your wife, she wants us to stay as it’s late. And I’m tired and so is your dad.”

“She would never…” Rihaan began then stopped short. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. But you both have to make do with just one narrow bed.”

“Oh no. We are sleeping here in your living room!” she replied beaming. “I’ve always wanted to sleep on a couch and your dad has fallen in love with your recliner. And we’ll be out of here at the crack of dawn. You won’t even know we’ve left.”

Rihaan didn’t argue any more but walked into the bedroom and closed the door softly behind him. Going up to the window, he held the curtain aside and waited. Sure enough, about five minutes later, a cab drew up in front of the building, uploaded his parents, and drove away.

Yet he didn’t leave the room. Something was holding him back.

On the bed he could make out his wife’s slight form even in the faint light. She was sleeping peacefully…or was she?

Not pausing another moment, he slid in beside her. Laying his head down on the velvet blanket of her hair, he spooned himself alongside her back, torso to torso, hip to hip, leg to leg.

He willed himself to hush his heart that all of a sudden had embarked on a mad joyride. Something vibrated annoyingly at his belt. His fingers reached automatically to silence it. Yet the turbulence didn’t seem to disturb her at all. She lay still apparently at peace.

He traced the side of her body with the tips of his fingers and sensed her stiffen, then relax again, as he continued undeterred. It was like gently stroking the strings of a guitar, the pleasure defying definition. Feeling more reckless, he fondled the contour of her hip, easing over to the flat plain of her midriff, before mapping the satin of her shoulder with his lips. Desire reared its head like a beast roused from slumber. He wanted her more than anything. He nuzzled into the soft warmth of her neck.

Turn over my lovely lady, turn over please? Let me take you to a place you’ve never been to.

A loud jarring clamor jolted him nearly out of his skin.

He stared dumbly at the source—his cell phone that lay discarded on the nightstand.
What in hell was going on?

He grabbed it and rushed into the living room, shaking with irritation, angry at himself for having succumbed to his preoccupation.

“What is it?” he snapped, then listened with mounting incredulity to the voice on the other end as it delivered an urgent message from the hospital.

***

Naina lay on the bed, staring at the same spot on the ceiling, for a long time after she heard the front door close trying to overcome an acute sense of disappointment. She had so wanted him to hold her close and make love to her. And why not? They were both lonely and frustrated. After the kiss on New Year’s Eve; that spontaneous, spur of the moment, Happy New Year kiss which had lingered a lot longer than it should have, leaving her breathless and aching for more. Ever since, their conversations had become stilted, consisting of monosyllables and prolonged awkward pauses; looks and heartbeats conveying a lot more than words. While striving to keep each other at arm’s length, they’d also found excuses to bump into each other and savor the sensations of
if only…

Her train of thought was suddenly disrupted by a shrill siren wail which didn’t die down but echoed over and over again, steadily increasing in volume. Clamping her hands over her ears, she ran to the window and was witness to a scene like none she’d ever seen. The entire city’s emergency resources had been summoned and they were choking the streets in droves, advancing like a raucous, unruly army headed off to war.

What was happening?

***

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I cannot let you in. We are in a lockdown,” the burly cop, standing guard outside one of New York’s busiest hospitals, reiterated sternly to Naina, who to him probably just looked like an agitated young Indian woman. Still, she didn’t budge.

“But I’m Dr. Mehta’s wife. I know he’s here. I need to see him,” she said peering over his shoulder. Then as soon as she saw the doors slide open, she dodged around the man and barged into the ER.

The place resembled a mini war zone.

“Dr. Rihaan Mehta?” Naina asked a passing attendant.

With a flick of his head, he gestured to the double doors behind him.

“Ma’am, you aren’t allowed here!” The tough cop had followed her in.

Just then, she spotted a familiar tall figure emerge from one of the rooms and tear off his bloodied surgical shield mask in an expression of exasperation.

“Rihaan!” she cried.

He looked flabbergasted. “Naina! Who let you in?” He glared at the cop.

“Sorry, doc. We couldn’t stop the lady. She insists that she’s your wife,” the cop said.

“So she is…” Rihaan’s gaze shifted to Naina, most likely taking in her disheveled appearance. And she could see it did nothing to ease his temper. “How did you find me?”

She drew the edges of her robe tightly around herself. “Your answering service. They told me. Are you all right? I heard in the news about the massive subway accident and a possible terror threat. I got worried.”

“Of course I’m fine. As for this…” he said, indicating to his blood spattered surgical gown “…it belongs to the poor wretch who bled out on the table.”

The sliding doors slammed open and a group of emergency personnel escorting a gurney barreled toward them. Rihaan pushed Naina against a wall but wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way himself.

She held his arm as his jaw clenched in pain. “Rihaan, sit down. Can we please get some help here?” she called out.

He shrugged her off. “I don’t need any help. I can take care of myself. This little mishap wouldn’t have occurred, had it not been for you, distracting me like always and getting in my way.”

Naina stepped back, clearly bewildered.

“Officer! Kindly have my wife escorted back home. We are done here.” Rihaan instructed the cop as to the address and walked away without another glance in her direction.

“This way, ma’am.”

Naina gave the cop a blank stare, then quietly followed him outside.