The Seven Steps to Closure (22 page)

I was interrupted from my daydreaming by Jessie. ‘Tara, the way I see it these are your only two options. You either go home in time for the wedding, or you go to Rajasthan with Matt.’

‘Or I could just stay here and hide until the wedding is over. Or I could travel by myself.’ I stopped and thought about it. I knew there was no way I was going to travel by myself.

‘You wanted to go to Rajasthan anyway,’ said Jessie, in his most convincing voice. ‘Think what a great chance this is.
Travel Abroad
will be footing most of the bill.’

‘When do I have to let him know?’ I asked.

‘As soon as possible, we’ll have to book you a plane ride to Delhi for Saturday.’

I thought about it while I helped do the dishes. I remembered how much fun we’d had on Wednesday and how it had been good until he had learnt who I was. If he didn’t mind taking me, then he couldn’t totally hate me, so that was promising. It was while I was brewing the tea that I realised this was a once in a lifetime opportunity the universe was handing me: I would be stupid to let it go.

‘All right,’ I said suddenly, disturbing the two of them from their frantic writing, ‘I’ll do it.’

I lay in bed that night torn between sadness at the horror of the Mumbai massacre and nervous nausea at the thought of travelling with Matt, praying intently that the universe knew what it was doing.

* * *

The next day passed a little too quickly for my liking. I spent most of it watching the television, feeling morose at the senselessness of the tragedy. Jessie rang to let me know that everything was under control except the Taj Palace. I couldn’t believe it was still going. It was a tragedy of huge proportions, and the Indian people as a nation were going to doubly suffer for this through a lack of the tourism they so desperately relied on. I was glad I had decided to stay.

My leather jackets turned up that afternoon. I felt guilty as I admired them, wishing there was something I could do to make a difference but knowing that there wasn’t.

Tahlia, Jessie and I risked going out to a local restaurant that evening, and then it was time for bed. I had a bit of trouble sleeping. To say I was nervous would have been an understatement, considering the many different levels of emotion I was functioning on. I was nervous of flying at the best of times. Now I was nervous of flying because of the terrorist attacks. Actually on a scale where one is slightly nervous, and ten is I’m-so-terrified-I-might-actually-pee-my-pants, I was on the pee-my-pants end of the scale. I was nervous of travelling with Matt, and I was also excited at the thought of travelling with him. So when I finally woke in the morning, I was nervous, terrified and excited all at once. The combination had me in the toilet with my head over the bowl, but the thought of being electrocuted made me too anxious to puke, so instead I put up with the nausea. I figured if we were confronted by any terrorists I could throw up on them, which would hopefully distract them long enough for Matt and I to get away.

Then I was on the way to the airport, with Matt sitting in the front seat talking to the driver. I was a little disappointed that he hadn’t sat in the back with me, but I knew I was being ridiculous, and that it was much better he couldn’t see my nervous twitching or sweaty brow.

The security at the airport was out of control – which should have made me feel better, but I kept thinking of the security that had been on the Taj Palace Hotel the very day it had been attacked. We x-rayed our luggage, had them opened and inspected, and then put them through yet another x-ray machine. Then we checked in our backpacks. (I was glad I had borrowed one from Dinah. The thought of lugging a suitcase around Rajasthan in front of Matt was unbearable.) We walked about 50 metres and then had a body search while our carry-on bags were x-rayed again. Another 100 metres we had to go through the whole routine. Finally, after one last bag check we were through to the departure lounge.

I must have been looked a little peaky because Matt took one look at me, sat me down and went for coffee. He came back with a sticky bun each, which was delicious but very hard to eat without getting crumbs stuck all over your face. All of this had progressed without Matt and I really saying anything at all to each other. I was starting to feel drained with the tension between us – none of it sexual unfortunately.

Matt picked up a local newspaper and started flicking through it. I got out my copy of
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
and continued reading. Finally, I could hear them calling our flight and Matt and I squeezed into the cabin. He very kindly let me have the window seat and I sat – terrified – counting the rows to the exit and trying to guess where the life jacket would be.

‘You wouldn’t need one.’ It was the first whole sentence Matt had directed towards me.

‘Huh?’ I asked him confused.

‘The life jacket, you won’t need one.’

‘Why not?’ I asked, hoping he would tell me something really reassuring like, ‘these planes can’t crash, it’s physically impossible.’

‘We won’t be flying over water,’ he answered.

‘Oh.’ Not the answer I had been hoping for.

Then we were rolling down the runway gathering speed and I could feel the acceleration of the plane accelerate my fear. I grasped the armrests tightly and clenched my teeth together.

‘Look,’ said Matt, pointing out the window.

I stared out over a huge slum city. It was built right up to the edge of the airfield.

‘Can you imagine trying to get to sleep down there?’ he said, pointing to another runway where the walls of the shacks were leaning against the airport fence.

As we climbed over the city, I could see the slums stretching away into the distance. ‘More than half of India’s population lives in slums,’ he informed me. ‘Even those who have jobs can’t afford the exorbitant rent and end up living there. Did you notice the people asleep in their cars the other night?’

I nodded my head, ‘I thought they were drivers waiting for passengers.’

‘Some might have been. But mostly they are people who have nowhere else to sleep.’

He flicked open a book and started taking notes. Guessing that was my signal the conversation had ended I watched the view of the city for a few more minutes until we were too high to see anything, and then recommenced reading my book. Eventually I fell asleep with my head resting on the window.

The motion of the plane commencing descent woke me and I groaned as I straightened my head with my hands. Matt was watching me with an amused look. He indicated the side of his own face and I realised he was trying to tell me I had something on mine. Hoping it wasn’t crumbs from that damn bun, I experimentally dabbed my cheek with my fingers and discovered I had slobbered. Oh Christ. He must think I’m some sort of special person. I looked down and was dismayed to find a wet patch on my shirt. Wow, I had really drooled.

‘I was a St Bernard in my last life,’ I told him, indicating the wet patch on my shirt.

He burst out laughing and I could feel some of the tension between us dissipate.

Finally, we were off the plane and out of the terminal into the not so fresh air of Delhi. Like Mumbai it was chaos, people and cars everywhere.

‘The hotel will have sent a car for us,’ Matt informed me. ‘Ahh there they are.’ He led me towards a man holding a placard with Matt’s name on it.

Within a few minutes, we were safe in the air-conditioned car and off to our hotel.

‘We’ll be staying near the train station,’ Matt said. ‘We’ve got an early train to catch the day after tomorrow and a lot of sightseeing to do. Are you up to it?’

I nodded my head as I wondered if I was. My previous emotions had burnt out leaving me drained and hollow. I watched as the slums slipped past, feeling sad for all those people born into poverty. India apparently has the most new millionaires a year. It was hard to correlate that information with what you saw when you were looking at the other end of the scale.

And then, there was Mumbai. All those people killed and maimed in that terrible event. The images of the wounded – the burnt and bruised, torn and twisted bodies I had seen on the local television still haunted me. Believe me when I tell you that the local Indian news pulled no punches when they were covering the massacre. Bodies lined up in the streets, relatives keening and mourning their loved ones. It had moved me on a level I hadn’t known was possible. It had left me morose and empty. What sort of world did we live in where people could do such terrible things to each other?

We arrived at the hotel and while I sat in the foyer, Matt organised our check in. He indicated for me to follow him up the mosaic-lined stairs to our room.

‘Look I hope you don’t mind but we’ll be sharing a room for the trip.’ He looked a little nervous as he said it. ‘But look at the bright side,
Travel Abroad
are footing the bill, and we’ve got a twin room.’

He opened the door and I saw, somewhat to my relief, that there were indeed two double beds in the room.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ I said, entering the room and slumping onto one of the beds.

‘Are you hungry?’ Matt asked, looking at me with concern.

‘A little, why?’

‘You just don’t seem to be your normal chirpy self.’

‘I’m feeling a little emotional,’ I admitted, and then to my shame I felt tears well in my eyes. ‘I’m all right,’ I said, ‘just so much pain and suffering. I feel like such an idiot to have ever complained about anything in my life.’

He sat down on the bed opposite me. ‘Don’t let it pull you under,’ he said. ‘Yes, there is a lot of pain and suffering in India. But there is also laughter and joy. You see those kids living in the slums? They are capable of happiness. So don’t get caught up in the tragedy of India, but instead learn to embrace the life here.’

It was the most he had said to me all day.

There was a light knock at the door and the porter arrived with our bags. I saw Matt slip him a note and made a mental note to myself to learn about the correct tipping here in India. I couldn’t keep letting Matt do it. They conversed together and the porter left with a slight bow to Matt.

‘He’s gone to get us some menus,’ he told me. ‘I thought we could have lunch here while we freshen up and then head out to see some sights.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ I said, hopping up to use the bathroom.

The porter had delivered the menus while I was on the toilet and Matt handed me one as I sat on the bed.

‘What’s good?’ I asked him.

‘Have you tried the egg rolls yet?’

I shook my head.

‘All right we’ll get a couple of them. Do you want a fruit lassi, some coffee or Marsala tea?’

‘Marsala tea thanks.’

I listened while he phoned through our order and then feeling a little braver I said, ‘You know Matt, I’m not Jake.’

I was watching his face closely so I saw the muscles around his jaw bunch up. A hard scary look came into his eyes, and then he took a deep breath and consciously relaxed his face.

‘I know you’re not. I just can’t believe you were married to him. Please,’ he said, ‘try and help me understand how a nice girl like you ended up with a total ….’ He paused while he rethought his choice of words. ‘Ass like him,’ he finished.

‘Well,’ I began slowly, ‘I was still at Uni and very naive. He was older and so dashing. I couldn’t believe that someone like him wanted to be with someone like me. Hell, I was deliriously happy that anybody wanted to be with me.’

Matt looked at me quizzically. ‘Why wouldn’t someone want to be with you?’

‘Well let’s just say my dance card wasn’t full. It was Uni, and guys at Uni didn’t seem to be big on the commitment thing.’

He looked thoughtful and then laughed. ‘Yeah, I guess I wasn’t really into commitment while I was at Uni.’

I resisted the urge to ask him if he was into it now and instead continued. ‘Anyway I guess he swept me off my feet. And then he proposed so quickly.’

‘But he’s such an ass.’

‘I know that now. But back then it was always my fault. If something went wrong, or wasn’t how I liked it, or didn’t feel right, somehow he would twist it and it would be me that was the problem, not the problem. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Yes. He can be very manipulative.’

‘I found that out the hard way.’

‘That’s when you broke up?’

I nodded.

‘Why did you leave him?’

‘I didn’t,’ I said.

He looked surprised.

‘Well I guess technically I did leave him, but in reality he left me first. He just didn’t let me know about it.’

‘Sounds typical of his behaviour.’

‘Look Matt, Jessie told me about Gina. I’m really sorry. If it makes you feel any better he pulled a similar stunt on me after we were married. But I had a miscarriage.’

Matt shook his head. ‘She tried to kill herself after the abortion,’ he said in a broken voice. ‘The combined loss of someone she thought had loved her, her baby and then the ability to have children was too much for her. It took her years to get over it.’

Our lunch turned up and we were silent while we ate.

‘You’re right,’ I said, picking up my Marsala tea and sipping, ‘these are really good.’

‘So tell me about when you left him,’ he continued, when he had finished eating.

‘You’re not going to use this in some article are you?’ I asked suspiciously.

He laughed. ‘No, I swore to never write a word about him.’ He paused and looked speculative, ‘So Tash is your cousin?’ he asked.

I nodded.

‘But she’s such a bitch.’

I burst out laughing, coming very close to snorting Marsala tea through my nose all over Matt.

‘It’s amazing how the press never mentions you,’ he continued.

‘I know. It’s like I never existed. I used to get offended by it, but then I realised he’s such a press darling that if they were to post pictures of me none of them would be flattering. And believe me, it’s not hard to get an unflattering photo of me.’

Matt laughed, his greeny-blue eyes crinkling at the corners. I noticed he got a cute dimple in his left cheek when he laughed. ‘All right, so I promise not to use anything that you are about to tell me in any written or verbal form. Satisfied?’ he said.