Swimming in the Monsoon Sea (13 page)

The sisters looked at each other in awe. “Mala,” Selvi said, in a hushed tone, “Amrith’s cousin has a haircut like Shaun Cassidy.”

Mala shook her head, impressed.

Later that evening, Amrith stood in front of his almirah mirror, the closed copy of
Othello
in his hand. He had intended to go over his part but, with rehearsals still two weeks away, he could not summon the desire to do so. Instead, he was thinking about his cousin’s haircut. The strict dress code at Amrith’s school forced students to wear their hair very short. He was hoping that, by the end of the holidays, his hair would be long enough to blow-dry into a more fashionable style.

Amrith found himself thinking of the way Niresh had leaned on the balustrade, drawing on his cigarette and exhaling between slightly parted lips, with the panache of those men in the cigarette ads that play before a film. Despite Niresh’s silly jokes, an aura of glamor hung around him.

A knock on his bedroom door brought him out of his thoughts. It was Jane-Nona. There was a telephone call from a boy with a foreign accent. Amrith ran across the courtyard to take it in the living room.

“Hey,” Niresh said, when Amrith picked up the receiver, “what are you doing?”

“Um
, nothing much,” Amrith replied, feeling a great happiness take hold. “I was just in my room.” He heard the receiver being lifted in the library, the sound of breathing. The girls were eavesdropping.

“Hi? You still there?” Niresh asked.

“Yes … 
um
 … someone’s picked up the extension.” He called out, “I’m on the phone.”

“Oh, Amrith, hello, it’s me, Selvi. I didn’t realize you were on the phone.” But she didn’t put the receiver down.

“Excuse me, Niresh.” Amrith stormed out of the living room into the library and glared at the girls. They grinned back. He snatched the phone from them, slammed the receiver down, and returned to the living room.

“Sorry, it’s … 
um
 … my sisters,” he said to Niresh.

“They were listening in?” Niresh had laughter in his voice.

“Yes, they were.” Amrith smiled.

“Why? I guess they want to know about your cousin from abroad.”

“Oh, yes, they’ve been asking all sorts of questions.”

“Like?”

“How you looked, whether you were tall or short, fat or thin, fair or dark.”

“What did you say?”

“Tall, thin, dark.”

Niresh chortled. “Hey, get your sisters to write out a list of questions and we’ll go through them. It’ll be a gas.”

“Sure.”

“So,
uh
, what are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” Niresh asked.

“Nothing,” Amrith replied.

“Do you want to hang out here?”

Amrith went to get permission from Aunty Bundle and Uncle Lucky, who were in the courtyard. The girls heard him leave the living room and they came out to discover
what had happened. He ignored them and went back to tell Niresh he could come.

When Amrith entered the foyer of the Mount Lavinia Hotel the next afternoon, his cousin was waiting for him. They stood grinning with goodwill. “I’m glad you could make it,” Niresh said, as they shook hands.

“Yes, me too. I brought the list.” Amrith had wickedly pretended that he could not remember anything Selvi wanted him to ask and so, in frustration, Selvi, along with Mala, had agreed to make a list.

Niresh laughed. “Well, let’s have a look,” he said.

They sat in the lounge.

His cousin read the first question out loud.
“Do you go to a school that has both boys and girls in it?”
He frowned, puzzled. “Why would they ask? Of course I go to school with guys and girls. You don’t?”

Amrith shook his head and explained that the schools were single sex.

“Wow, so, like, how do guys meet chicks?”

“Um
 … you can join an association, and then you get to do things with similar associations from girls’ schools.”

Niresh continued to read.
“Have you seen
A Little Romance? Shit, no. I wouldn’t see such mushy crap.
What
music do you like?
You guys heard of Ozzy Osbourne or Motley Crew?”

Amrith shook his head.

“Who do you guys listen to?”

“Olivia Newton-John, the Bee Gees, Sheena Easton, Shaun Cassidy.”

“Gag! You’re kidding me!
Do you have a girlfriend?
Not one, many. I like to keep my options open.” Niresh grinned. “Hey, are your sisters home? Let’s call and I can talk to them direct.”

He took Amrith to his room, which was a mess — clothes strewn everywhere, a suitcase open on the floor.

Amrith dialed their number. Jane-Nona answered and he told her he wanted to speak to Selvi or Mala.

“Amrith?” Selvi came on the line, a little out of breath.

“Oh, hi, someone wants to talk to you.” He handed the phone to Niresh.

His cousin beckoned him to come close. “Hi, this is Niresh.”

A silence. “Oh, hello.”

“So, I got your questions and I thought I’d call in person and answer them.”

“Just a minute.”

They heard a hurried conference between the sisters, Mala telling her to put down the phone, not to talk with a strange boy, Selvi saying he was not a stranger. Amrith and Niresh giggled.

“Hello.” Selvi was back. “Sorry about that.”

“So do you want to know my answers?”

“If you’d like to give them.”

Amrith was surprised by Selvi’s cool.

“But first, I’d like to ask you a question,” Niresh said.

“Yes?”

“Are you tall or short, fat or thin, fair or dark?”

The boys fell back on the bed, killing themselves with laughter.

Finally, Niresh sobered down enough to pick up the receiver again. “So are you?”

“What?”

“Tall or short, fat or thin, fair or dark?”

“Can I speak to my brother?”

“Sure.” He handed the receiver to Amrith.

“Amrith, I’m going to tell Amma.”

“Tell her what?” he demanded.

“That you got your cousin to call and make fun of me.”

“But you asked the questions and so he is answering now.”

“You wait and see.” With that, she banged the phone down.

They laughed and shook their heads.

“So why do your sisters want to know all this?” Niresh asked.

“Because … I guess … you’re from abroad.”

“And?”

Amrith paused, not sure how to explain the glamor of “abroad.” “And … I suppose you get to see all the newest films and television programs, and we have to wait years for
them to come out here. We only saw
Saturday Night Fever
this year.”

“You’re kidding me! That film came out in 1977 — three years ago.”

“And,” Amrith continued, “you get to listen to whatever music you want. I mean, we can’t just go out and buy a record that we read about in the newspapers, because the government here restricts the importing of foreign things. We have to wait until my uncle or aunt goes abroad to get it, or buy it secondhand at an embassy sale.”

“So, Canada is really cool to you guys?”

“Yes, I suppose it is cool.”

Niresh nodded, taking this in. Then he stood up. “Hey, how about a walk on the beach?”

They went out into the hotel corridor and headed towards the terrace.

“Yeah,” Niresh said, “Canada is great. As long as you’re not some freak or nerd in school.” He glanced quickly at Amrith, then his chest expanded slightly. “My close buddies — I’ve got three, Tommy, Dave, and Matt — we’re on the football team and we’re really tight.”

He told Amrith about all the things he did with his buddies — going to movies and making out with chicks, hanging out at the mall, trying to get into clubs with fake IDs. The four of them often cruised around Markham, the suburb in which they lived, in Dave’s car, causing havoc. Niresh thought this was the coolest thing. They would steal people’s flowers in the summer, smash pumpkins at Halloween, remove the bulbs from outdoor Christmas
lights. He told Amrith that he was having such a good time that he had not even wanted to visit Sri Lanka. He had planned to attend football camp with his buddies, but his father had forced him to come here instead.

Stories like Niresh’s would have usually intimidated Amrith, but all the while his cousin talked, he had his arm around Amrith’s shoulder, and he felt curiously included in Niresh’s gang of friends.

Soon they were out on the terrace. As they started to cross it, a voice cried out, “Niresh, Niresh, come here, you bugger.”

Amrith turned to see his uncle sitting in the shade of an awning with a group of Sri Lankan men.

“Fuck,” Niresh muttered, under his breath. “Why?” he called back, not moving.

“Just get over here when I call you,” his uncle bellowed.

Niresh began to walk over and Amrith followed reluctantly. Despite an appearance of civility, Amrith was aware that his uncle did not like him. His uncle’s dislike was so strong, it blotted out Amrith’s own emotions and, besides an awkwardness, he could not tell what he felt towards his uncle.

As they drew near, Amrith saw that there were two bottles of arrack on the table. One of them was already empty and it was barely four o’clock in the afternoon. His uncle’s eyes were red. The other men looked drunk, too.

Niresh stopped a few yards away. “What do you want?”

“How dare you talk to me like that,” his uncle snarled. His glance slid to Amrith and then away.

Niresh muttered, “Fucking loser,” under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t back-talk me, you bugger.” Niresh’s father turned to his friends and said in Sinhalese, “Look at the tongue on him. Ever since his balls dropped, he thinks he’s a big shot.”

The men roared with laughter.

Amrith was appalled by his uncle’s crudeness towards his own son.

Niresh, who did not know Sinhalese, said, “Yeah, yeah.” He turned and sauntered off.

Amrith followed.

As they left, Amrith heard his uncle telling his friends, in Sinhalese, that Niresh was a stone around his neck. He had wanted to pack him off to camp, but Niresh had begged to come here.

Amrith glanced at his cousin, puzzled. What his uncle said contradicted Niresh’s story of wanting to attend football camp with his buddies.

They went down to the beach. Most of the sand had been eaten up by the encroaching monsoon sea, and so they walked in the Goat’s-Foot that spread its greenery beyond the sand. They got to a flat boulder that jutted out into the sea and Niresh scrambled over it, leaving Amrith to follow him. The waves threw themselves against the boulder with such force, there was a mist in the air. Niresh sat down as close to the edge as he dared. Amrith settled near him.

“So, if you knew I existed, why didn’t you get in touch?” Niresh picked up a stone and flung it at the waves.

Amrith took a piece of coral in his hand and examined it, hoping his cousin would not pursue this. But Niresh had turned to him, waiting for a reply.

“How?” Amrith said, without looking at him.

“But you had to know my address. I’m guessing your aunt or uncle wrote and told my dad that your mum had died and they had adopted you. I mean, my dad seemed to already know this when we met your uncle in Fort.”

Amrith put the coral back on the rock.

“Come on, Amrith.”

“Um
 … I … I don’t want to talk about it.”

His cousin stared at him. “Sure, no problem.” Niresh threw another stone out to sea.

A kingfisher circled and dipped, circled and dipped over the stormy monsoon waves. Clouds were gathering on the horizon.

Amrith, glancing at Niresh, saw that a gulf had opened up between them.