Flowers in the Blood (41 page)

“You never believed me, did you?”

“Your descriptions about what happened were so . . . well, vague. When Silas tried . . . was there any bleeding?”

“No, Zilpah.”

“No pain?”

“No, just a pressure on the outside.”

“How do you know he never was inside, even for a few seconds?”

I shook my head. “I believe that nothing happened. And besides, no matter what Mrs. Salem finds, it will not make a whit of difference to her son.”

“How can you know that? And even if you are right, what if she forbids the marriage? What then? Isn't it better for me to say that I refuse to put you through the embarrassment?”

“No. I shall take my chances, Zilpah. Besides, Edwin would defy his mother on this. I know he would.”

“Your father would not give his permission if she withdrew hers.”

“Then I would defy my father.”

“Dinah!” She shook me so hard, pins fell from my hair. “You have lost your mind over this boy.”

As from a faraway place, I could hear Grandmother Flora's voice telling me about Luna begging her to marry Benu. Now I knew how my mother had felt. Despite everything I had done to be different from her, I was walking in her shoes once again. I straightened my back and pulled away from Zilpah. “Tell Mrs. Salem I will do as she says whenever she wants, if Edwin and I may marry this week. Now I will go out and thank Aunt Bellore for her kind assistance and invite her to my wedding.”

27

 

L
ate in the afternoon on Tuesday, the day after the tea party, I waited for Esther Salem. Yali had bathed and perfumed me like a maharani.

“Nobody is to tell Edwin about this,” I had warned Zilpah.

“Surely his mother will mention it.”

“You must instruct her she must not.”

“This concerns him as much as his mother.”

“No, he could not care less. Any man who feels for a woman as he does about me would refuse to permit anyone to shame her. If he learns what we are doing, he will forbid it.”

“Then why not let him put an end to this? Your father and I are reluctant, and—”

“I am the one who will have, to live with Mrs. Salem. If I do not satisfy her, the question will trail me like a foul wind.”

Zilpah had seemed baffled by my argument, but she acceded and arranged to have Edwin occupied with a visit to the Sassoon offices while Mrs. Salem visited Theatre Road.

As I waited, I lay back on my bed and tried to concentrate on a book Silas had recommended, Zola's
Nana.
I don't know whether it was the significance of the moment or the book itself, but I found the story distasteful and never finished it.

There was a knock on the door.

Zilpah came into my room first. “Are you ready?”

I placed my book on the bedside table.

“Do you want me to stay?”

When I shook my head, Zilpah waved Yali in. I signaled for the ayah to go.

“But, Dinah-baba—”

I pointed firmly for her to leave.

Mrs. Salem came into the room and stood by the door. For a long moment Zilpah hovered behind her; then, after one lingering glance, she closed the door softly. The click of the latch resounded in the room.

This was not an act of submission. The contrary was true. My insistence to have the question settled was one of the most aggressive acts of my life. Edwin and I both wanted to marry at once—not that a week or two would have mattered—but it was our way of wresting control over our fate from the adults who until that moment had juggled our lives like crafty carnival performers.

Anger is the leash that keeps other emotions, like fear and shame, in check. Anger braced my spine. Anger hardened my expression into a stolid grimace. And anger bred a freshly wrought sense about how to conduct this rite that transcended any experiential knowledge that I might have had.

Tentatively Mrs. Salem approached the foot of my bed. I stretched my legs out under my dressing gown and folded my arms across my chest. Let her decide what to do next, I thought, and said nothing.

For a long time she fixed her eyes above me. The more she fidgeted, the more superior I felt. Then, as if she had found a reserve well of resolve, she gazed at me shrewdly. “Let us get this over with, shall we?”

I drew my legs up to my chest.

“Yes, that's better. Why don't you hold your knees and spread your legs?” Her hand was on my thigh, gently insisting I follow its lead. “Take off your undergarments.”

I already had, so I said nothing.

“Well?” The question came as a whine.

“I did that before you arrived.”

She waited a beat and lowered her head. “There's not much light. Turn toward the windows,” she ordered.

With an awkward twist of my buttocks I shifted to my right. Edwin's mother stood up and walked around to that side of the bed. A hot ray of sun beamed across my mound. I pretended I was a stone temple goddess carved on a frieze: unfeeling, impenetrable.

“My aunt was a midwife,” she said to put me at ease while she stared between my parted thighs. “Nothing can be seen on the outside, as you must know.” Her voice was that of a strident teacher. Anger checked my instinctive reflex to kick her away. Anger helped me to keep my eyes open and my mouth closed while she reached out with her left hand and peeled me like an unripe mango.

How thankful I was that Edwin did not know what was happening! Tears stung my eyes. Mustn't think of him, not now. Her other hand pressed in a way that made my stomach churn. Oh, Edwin, it will be worth it if we have our way. The price is small compared with what will happen in a few days. Then you will be the only one to do this to me for as long as I live. Another queer, slippery poke and then a firm hand pressed my knees together. I glanced up. She tucked one hand behind her back. With the other she smoothed her dress. Her face had blanched, and with the sun illuminating her from the back, she looked like the bright center of a flame.

I fumbled with my gown, trying to tie it while prone, then inched to the bedside and dangled my legs.

She backed away from me. “I don't know . . .”

Every restraint broke loose. I leapt up and toward her, shouting, “You are lying!”

She held out an arm stiffly to keep me from grabbing her. “No, that is not what I meant.”

I fell back on my bed with a, thud. She took one step in my direction and stood there, one foot in front of the other so she could retreat with an economy of movement.

I gasped. Something was wrong with my throat.

“I don't know what should be there or should not be there.” She turned away from me. “It is more complicated than I had imagined,” she whispered. “The other women I had seen were having babies . . . I should have asked someone else, someone with more experience, like a
mashti.”

“Nobody else.” My voice broke into fragments. “Please.”

Her bosom heaved. “That won't be necessary. I should not have insisted. If your own aunt had not suggested this would be the only way . . .” She looked straight ahead. “From your willingness to submit, I should have known you were telling the truth, but I am a mother and . . .” She faced me slightly. “When you become a mother, you may do things to protect your children that you find distasteful.”

I barely listened to her confession. My mind raced on. “We will marry this week.” I tried to catch her eye. “That was the—”

“Yes, well . . . I always planned to have the ceremony in Cochin.”

“Have you discussed this with Edwin?”

“Of course. My other children were married there, and he promised he would also be married in our synagogue in the traditional Cochini way.”

“Have you talked with him this week?”

“Not about the wedding, and certainly not about this.” She looked at her hand, obviously wanting to wash it off. “That was what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“All Edwin and I want is to wed this week, whether in Calcutta or Cochin or China!”

“We could leave for the west in a few days . . . you could marry a week or so after we return.” Her eyes darted like a trapped animal's. “I

don't see why you must rush.” When I did not reply, her hands twisted in her lap. With wonderful clarity I realized she was floundering.

“Friday morning would be best.”

She stood up and looked at the door as if it would open by desire alone. “If your father agrees, I will not stand in your way,” she said, and left me alone. I fell back onto my pillows, wondering: How will I ever be able to live under this woman's domination?

 

Bliss is winning. Winning brought an exhilaration I had never felt before, because I had never won before. That evening my father brought Edwin home with him. Both were beaming.

Without asking permission, we left our parents and went out onto the terrace. When we rounded the corner, Edwin clasped my hand and gave me a flurry of moist kisses that could have been considered discreet only by their placement below the elbow.

“Well, what did he say?”

“What did your admirable, generous, adorable father have to say?”

“My father may be generous and admirable, but adorable?”

“Don't you suppose Zilpah thinks of him that way?”

“Edwin!” I tugged my hand away.

“He said yes, so nothing else is of any consequence.”

“Yes to what?”

“Yes to everything. Yes to our marriage, yes to making the arrangements regarding your
get
, yes to doing it as soon as you and the family can organize everything.”

“Did he discuss my dowry?”

“That is supposed to be between him and my mother, but the subject was mentioned. In fact, I referred to it first.” Edwin stroked his hair back, something I now realized he did more frequently when he was anxious. “I told him that I did not care what your settlement might be, because now that I had come to know you, I would take you if you had not a single rupee to your name.”

“What did he say to that?”

“At first he was silent; then he showed true insight. He said: 'Many a young man would say that to a prospective father-in-law to impress him with his sincerity. Unfortunately, you are following in the footsteps of another fellow who courted my daughter and who made similar protestations to me. The tragedy is that I might have understood had he been a rotter after only her fortune, but his motive was more obscure and in the long run potentially more damaging.' Well, what could I respond to that?”

“I suppose you could have called his bluff . . .”

“How alike we are!”

“You didn't?”

“I did.”

“What did he do?”

“He was flustered at first; then he asked how I would support you. I explained that we could live in my mother's house and that my family's trading business had potential. My Singapore cousins will buy directly from me. Merchandise that I acquire from China as well as India should interest them. Also, in the Kerala region we grow splendid sandalwood trees, and sandalwood is one of the few commodities, besides opium, that the Chinese import from India. I asked for his assistance in developing my network, as a businessman, not as a father-in-law,”

“Do you want to sell opium?” I asked warily.

“Not especially. Why?”

Flooded with relief, I couldn't reply for a moment. “I just wondered. What else did he say?”

“He said that he was a man of his word and that he could not permit one of his daughters to leave home without a settlement to ensure her comforts, now and in the future.”

“I see why you both are so cheerful tonight.”

“No, you know why he is. I am able to smile only because once again I bask in the glow of my beloved.”

I made a sour face. “A poet you are not.”

“That may be, but you have not told me about your day. You must account for every second since we have been apart, or have you forgotten rule number twenty-two?”

I looked around as I attempted to cover the interlude with his mother and saw my four brothers coming across the lawn toward us.

Edwin's arm, hugging my waist, did not fall at their approach.

“Hello, Edwin,” Asher called.

He waved at him.

“My day was much quieter,” I said under my breath. “All I did was arrange our wedding date with your mother.”

“Your father said we would settle that this evening.”

“I have settled it already.”

Pinhas and Asher overheard the last sentence. “What is settled?” Asher asked.

“These two think that between them they can conquer the problems of the world,” Pinhas teased.

“Only one,” I replied. “The only one that matters.”

With a fierce tug Edwin drew me closer to him. “When?”

“Friday morning.”

His hands shot into the air to pull back his hair. “You are joking!”

“What is happening on Friday?” Jonah asked.

“We are getting married,” I announced as I hugged him and Edwin both.

“That's the day after tomorrow,” Asher said in the squeaky range of his changing voice.

“How did you . . . ?” Edwin gasped. “My mother wanted us to have the wedding in Cochin. She never would have agreed—”

“We had a nice chat and I convinced her this is what would make you the happiest. A good mother wants her child to be happy, doesn't she?”

“What a darling you are!” Edwin said, kissing me on the mouth in front of the boys and whoever else might have been looking.

 

Negotiations form the core of human commerce, whether the currency is money or trade goods or time or love. Over the years I have found that major setbacks come from minor points that have their roots in the pride of people who wield power for the sake of power itself. Even marriage, which should be a refuge from the tussles of the larger world, is often a miniature battleground where sides are taken and wars are waged. Looking back at that evening, I see that even without a plan, Edwin and I—I in the bedroom and Edwin in the boardroom— had prepared our troops for the treaty session that took place that night. Disarmed by the affection Edwin and I were demonstrating for each other, our parents capitulated to each other like a domino train.