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zoebechtle-blog · 6 years

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Unlikely Chapter 12

“You know what my favorite thing about your face is?” Random thoughts from Zoe. Niall turned his eyes from the football match on the TV (against my own will, he had turned me into a Derby Rams fan). It was late on a Saturday night. Willie and Hannah were out of town and Deo had been relocated for the weekend. We hadn’t seen much of one another over the last week - he was finishing things for his upcoming charity golf tournament and gala, and sliding into the studio to write as often as he could. He claimed he'd had a stroke of inspiration lately and wanted to get back to making music. I was busy finishing up work on a big research project with a few other therapists, and hadn’t been home before 9:00 anytime recently. As of next week, his schedule was the most insane thing I’ve ever seen for an unemployed musician (as I liked to remind him): golf tournaments, fundraisers, charity games, concerts and festivals, and an extended trip to the U.S. to write and record more. Therefore, we had sequestered ourselves in his house and were having a grownup sleepover. Last night I’d insisted we make a fort out of cushions to eat pizza in - once I’d convinced him it was an amazing idea, he’d gone in with full gusto, choosing blankets that were sturdy. He fancied himself a fort engineer by the end, and was a little pissed when we knocked it down after the dinner during more active pursuits that resulted in an impressive patch of rug burn on my back. We took a long bath, with bubbles that I’d smuggled in, and I’d dozed off with my back resting on his chest, at ease with pretty much everything. He turned on some late 90s dance music this afternoon and we danced around like idiots, then tried (unsuccessfully) doing the tango (I have two left feet). I was trying to convince him to let me braid his hair, but he wasn’t there yet. It’d been the best 30 hours ever, and I was kind of buzzed off my love of him. Well, and the bottle of wine I’d been sipping on.

“What’s that, baby?” He took a long drink of his beer and I watched him swallow, enthralled. “Z?”

“Huh?”

He started laughing. “You have the attention span of a mouse. What’s your favorite thing about my face?”

“Oh yeah!” I was sitting on his left side on the ginormous sectional sofa in his living room, my feet across his lap. I scooted my butt closer until I was almost sitting on him, and turned his chin so he was facing forward and I had a perfect profile shot. “This. This is my favorite.”

“You’re poking my cheek!”

“No! I’m poking your eye dimple. It’s the cutest thing ever.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about - don’t have a dimple on my eye.”

“Right under, not ON your eye.” I rolled my eyes for emphasis. “Here.” I grabbed my phone from behind me and pulled up a picture of him I’d taken that morning. He was sitting on his countertop in his tightie whities, laughing at my impressions of various Food Network chefs while I made French toast. He looked so utterly perfect, laughing so hard he ended up getting the hiccups when I discussed Wonder Bread and Egg Beaters as Sandra Lee, his hair falling over his brow and fingers grasping the overhang of the counter. Who knew the members of One Direction loved cooking shows? I’d promptly walked over the kissed the living hell out of him after I snapped the pic. Such opportunities could not be wasted. “See? It’s a little dimple and it only shows when you’re genuinely smiling. Everytime I see it I want to buy a house and retire there because it’s the most perfect place on Earth.” Okay, maybe I’d had closer to a bottle and a half of wine. He looked at me with wide, adoring eyes, and caught my lips with his own.

“Know what my favorite part of your face is?”

“I’m guessing my lips because, blah blah, sucking you off,” I gave him a cheeky grin, expecting the usual male answer.

“You underestimate me, Zoe,” he replied, wrinkling his forehead and pushing his pretty lips out into a tiny pout. He actually looked a little hurt.

“I’m sorry, boo.” I traced his chin dimple with my thumb, pacifying him. “What’s your favorite part?”

He kissed my brow bone. “This. Can tell everythin’ you’re thinkin’ by your forehead and brows. You can’t hide a thing. Explains why you can’t play poker for shit.”

“I’m not THAT bad.”

“Babe, Nick took forty quid off you in one hand.”

“He cheats.”

“Sure he does.” He’d pulled me back against the cushions with him and I cuddled up to his side. “Love you. Bad poker face and all. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

I felt my emotions bubble up as they always did when he said something like this. “Love you more.”

“Impossible.”

“So possible.”

“Nope.”

“Shut up, shamrock.” In order to ensure his silence, I climbed over his lap and kissed him stupid. He upped the ante by slipping my t-shirt over my head, and I won by pushing his shorts down and sliding down on his cock.

His stylist, Ellie, and her favorite tailor showed up Sunday early afternoon to fit Niall for his fundraiser suit one last time. He was leaving soon for a golf tournament in Northern Ireland so all final preps needed to be now. I adored Ellie-she’d helped me find a dress (not even a dress, a fabulous creation of nature that was the most perfect item of clothing I’d ever had on my body) for the upcoming Horan Rose event. And to Niall’s chagrin, I’d paid for it myself despite his requests otherwise and whines to the stylist. I would be there not only in girlfriend capacity, but also representing the clinic and its autism research efforts. Luckily, my boss was coming as well, as Niall’s guest, so he could field all the tricky questions. An administrator I am not. When I’d shown Hannah pictures of the miracle dress, she’d been shocked.

“It’s pink.”

“‘tis.”

“You don’t wear pink. Ever.”

“I like pink!”

“I know, but 90% of your wardrobe is black! And it’s light pink at that!”

“Because pastels make me look dead. But this looks good.” I showed her the next pic in the roll of me modeling for Ellie.

“Holy shit.”

“Right?”

Hannah sat back, obviously proud of herself, “Love looks good on you, Zoe Jane.”

I threw a shoe at her, intentionally missing. She wasn’t wrong.

I laid on the bed while Niall pranced around in his underwear. His good mood was infectious, and Sam the tailor was having none of it. The older gentleman who had twice whacked him on the back of the thigh for screwing around. He’d earned my adoration quickly.

“Zoe, will you look at these ties?” Ellie had plopped down next to me, holding up a large box. “I can’t decide which one.”

“Lord, she’ll put me in a bow tie, don’t let her choose, El!” I stuck my tongue out at Niall as I sorted. Damnit. He was right. I loved bow ties. They looked dapper.

“How about this one?” I held up a navy one for Ellie’s inspection.

“The peaches? You think?”

“Yup. In honor of his little peach bum.” He shook said bum at us, earning another smack from Sam. Too cute for words.

I was nervous about the fundraiser. Besides it being my first official event as Niall’s date, I was also going to meet the whole Horan clan - he was flying a boatload of people over from Ireland for the party. In negotiations with him and Kim, I’d gotten out arriving with him and doing the red carpet thing (the mere idea gave me hives). He wasn’t aware that I wasn’t going to be “arriving” at all - at my request, Kim was going to arrange for me to come in the back door of the facility. I knew I’d be photographed at some point or another, but I wanted to avoid it as much as possible. I agreed that I’d sit at his table and be on his arm instead of eating with Willie and Hannah nearby or my boss and his wife in the back of the room. He knew I was terrified of the attention, and tried to talk me down as much as possible.

“I know it’s a lot, babe.” We were FaceTiming as he got ready to head off to a rugby match with Rory.

“No, it’s fine. I just don’t want people paying attention to something that isn’t a the reason for the night,” I tried to explain. I started playing with my bracelet, twirling it around my fingers.

“Put the bracelet down, ya liar.”

“What?”

“Get on me about my nervous hands, and ya do the same damn thing.” He pulled his shirt over his head. “Kate is next to Justin, so why wouldn’t ya be with me?”

“Um, because she’s his wife.”

“Is that all it takes then? Ok? Wanna get married? Let’s go.” Wha? I knew my mouth was gaping.

“No! I mean...no, shut up.”

He knew he had me and smirked. “Just gotta say the word.”

I rolled my eyes. “They’ve known one another more than three months. They weren’t outed on the The Daily News and Sun out partying. Twice. The fangirls of the world don’t hate Kate. I don’t want to cause problems for you.”

“Z, are ya ever gonna realize that I don’t give a fuck? Yeah, I try to keep as much of me life private as I can, but I’m not going to hide ya. Ever. And I’ll protect you.” By this point he was pointing his finger at his laptop in a rant.

“God you’re a pain in the ass.”

“Likewise, pretty girl. I gotta go, car is here. Love you.”

“I love you, too, Nialler.”

Niall got home late Thursday night, and the Irish contingent starting arriving by the planeload Friday afternoon. I’d stayed late at work to get ahead since I’d be off Monday and Tuesday for the golf tournament and the inevitable aftermath-I’d been training my liver for this weekend since I was sixteen. After work I’d planned on going home, leaving Niall to his own devices with his guests. But in true Niall fashion he had his dad text me that he expected to see me when he landed. The little bastard had pulled out the Bobby Horan card. When I finally left, a black Range Rover beeped at me from the curb and Basil waved. I let out a sigh and muttered to myself. “So much for taking the tube like a normal goddamn human being.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up, obviously.”

“He really doesn’t know how to take no for answer, does he?” I buckled into the passenger seat as Bas tossed my bag in the back.

I wasn’t one hundred percent on board with this uncomfortable hour drive and silently shook my fist at my boyfriend. I was still trying to figure out where I stood with Bas. While I was sure he didn’t hate me, my relationship with Niall and what it meant for his security (and heart) were still unknown. We both routinely got some nastygrams, and lately he’d been getting his phone hacked on the regular and spammed by little shits. I was anxious and had skipped lunch today because my stomach was going nuts with nerves. I was facing an entire long weekend filled with people who loved Niall and were going to be watching me. I didn’t work well under pressure. So I filled the car with awkward conversation until Bas’s eyes basically begged me to shut up. Rightfully silently chastised, I leaned my seat back and closed my eyes until we arrived home (shit, did I just refer to Niall’s house as home?). I didn’t even get my buckle undone when the door was opened.

“Ni, Jes-,” Oh. This was not my blonde bombshell. The older man with rosy cheeks beamed at me.

“Zoe! Aw, love, it’s a pleasure!” The legend himself, Bobby Horan, pulled me out of the car and into a gigantic bear hug. Unlike when I met Harry, however, I didn’t mind. I may have squealed a little bit.

“Back off, old man!” Niall elbowed his dad. “I haven’t seen my girl all week.”

“Whose fault is that, youngster?” Bobby gave me a grin, and I squeezed him again.

My quick confidence shot from Bobby quickly diminished when I walked into a house full of strangers. I knew it was coming but still was not prepared. Before I could blink, I’d met Eoghan, Bressie (hello...I was never going to be able to make eye contact with him), Bobby’s girlfriend Aoife, another Niall, and various other guys whose names I was going to spend the whole weekend trying to remember. I was passed from person to person - the Irish were huggers. Sensing my discomfort, Deo slid a Jameson in my hand. I mouthed a thank you to him and downed it only to have it replaced by a beer. After being appropriately introduced, I excused myself to go to the bedroom and change. And have a minor panic attack in the bathroom.

“Babe?” Shit, I’d been gone for almost half an hour.

“In here.”

“Decent?”

“Totally depends on your definition. But no, I’m not pooping.”

His head poked through the door, giving me a look. “Hiding, huh?”

It was useless, he’d figured out my M.O. “There are just so many of them. And they all love you. If you haven’t noticed, I tend to make an ass out of myself when I’m nervous.”

“I know. Still waiting for those strokes you promised me.”

“I hate you.”

“C’mere.” He pulled me up to him, wrapping his arms around my middle. “I missed ya. Didn’t even get a proper kiss. My da’ cock blocked me.”

“I’m assuming not for the first time.”

“You have no idea.” He’d finally worked a smile out of me and gave me a warm, gentle kiss that I felt down to my toes. The beer he’d been enjoying was obvious, but there was a slight mint to his taste as always. “Missed you, pretty girl.”

“I missed you, too.” I rested my head on his collarbone as an someone beat on the window in the closet, causing us to both jump a foot.

“Quit molesting the lady, Horan, and get your ass out here!”

“Fuck you, Eoghan!” he shouted back. “Hey,” he whispered, pulling my attention up to him. “Everyone out there is so excited to get to know you. You’re all I’ve talked about for months. Babe, they love you already. I promise.”

The Irish could party, let the record reflect. Aoife, Hannah, and I ventured out late Sunday morning for manicures and to get last minute supplies, including buy a new tie for Eoghan, who had insisted his could double as a headband the night before, requiring me to cut him out of it. None of Niall’s ties matched the intricate pattern of his suit, he claimed (Niall was positive he just wanted me to feel the fabric) and I’d been tasked. Once I’d gotten over my initial shyness, I realized why every one of these people were special to Ni. It made me feel even closer to him, and pondered introducing him to my family eventually (then promptly took a shot to chase that crazy idea away). The only stone left unturned was Maura. She and her husband were meeting us at the event. Willie and Deo privately had told me that she’d guilted Niall into the invitation - something she routinely did when there was something she was interested in. In the time we’d known one another I had never witnessed her interacting with him in any way. I had developed an attitude about her, and he was aware of it. I didn’t know Niall as a small child, but the idea of willingly leaving him was foreign to me. I didn’t know her side of the story, it was true. But even how she treated him now pissed me off. Plus, I’d bore witness to the affects of her abandonment, and that made me pull out my momma bear tendencies.

Over the last two months I’d observed Niall pour over details with planners and Justin, his co-host. He’d really put his heart and soul into it, and I was full of pride. So proud that I’d risked my perfect hairdo (okay, so it was Hannah and her masterful use of a flat iron and bobby pins) to give him a blowjob in the closet before he’d left. Right against his perfectly organized hat collection, near the mirror so he could watch in full detail as I swallowed him whole wearing nothing but a strapless bra (ouch) and lace boyshorts.

“Christ, if that’s the reaction I get for helpin’ people I’m gonna sign over my whole bank account.” I’d just nuzzled my cheek against his thigh and cleaned him off with a satisfied sigh. Then I did something so positively dirty that when my rational brain returned I couldn’t believe it. I dipped my finger in a tiny trickle of come on his thigh, and, eyes locked with his, and dabbed it behind my ears like perfume. Then licked my finger.

“So I have a little bit of you with me all night.” I loved philanthropic men, what could I say? He hauled me to my feet and was about to maul me when his phone rang. “That’s your car.”

“Fuuuuuck. I’m going to think of that all night.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.” I kissed his lips pertly and rubbed his nose with mine. “Go, I’ll see you in a bit. I’ll be the one falling down in heels.”

“Don’t worry,” he turned to grin at me as he picked up his suit jacket, “I’ll catch ya.”

The ballroom at the private golf club was madness. Ellie and I had ridden from the house together, and were both bouncing with excitement. Swanky events weren’t my thing, but I knew the night promised to be amazing. We had shuffled in through the kitchen, and observed Jamie Freakin’ Oliver yelling out directions. El didn’t give me time to adequately fan girl. Probably for the best. I’m sure I would have ended up stealing a carrot. We spotted Bressie and Eoghan and huddled with them. My inner matchmaker decided that Ellie and the single Bressie would be adorable, and I made a mental note to mention that to Niall later. He was still working the green carpet, and would be for a while. I’d spied him outside of the ballroom doors and felt giddy inside - he looked amazing (god, Ellie was good at her job) and in his element.

We sipped Horan Shamrock Spritz cocktails and the obvious jokes about Niall being in our mouths were shared. I privately gloated knowing he was more than just in my mouth. Eoghan eventually made a face, “Of course she’d show up to this - rich and famous folks.” We all turned in unison and Bres groaned. I recognized the tiny (seriously, I’m short - I would tower over her) woman as Maura. Not wanting to be obvious and being a huge fan of avoidance, I excused myself to go to the charity section and spend some time mingling and discussing the clinic with guests, most of whom had no idea that I was anything other than a practitioner attending the event. My feet ached by the time dinner was announced, the royal blue shoes that matched some of the gem detail on the top of my cocktail dress not being designed for long term wear. I mentally patted myself on the back for tossing a pair of flip flops into my bag.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” a familiar Irish voice interrupted my conversation with an older couple about vaccines (for the nine millionth time in my career). Niall put his arm around my waist, “I need to steal this one to meet a few people. Have you all seen the silent auction tables? We’ve got some great prizes. Glenn,” he patted the man’s elbow, “there’s a package to play with Rors this fall. It’s got your name written all over it.” Like that he slid me a way.

“I owe you. So hard.”

“Your eyes were screamin’. I know when my girl needs help.” He kissed my cheek as we navigated the crowd, being stopped by every other person for Niall to chat. “You smell fuckin’ amazin’.” We raised our eyebrows at one another.

“Musk.”

“You’re going to kill me, woman.”

We were interrupted by a high pitched, loud voice, “There’s my baby boy!” I knew I couldn’t avoid her all night.

“Mam, I was lookin’ for ya. Wanted to introduce you to Zoe, my girlfriend. Zo, this is my mam, Maura, and step dad, Chris.” I could see Maura eyeing me up and down, and I felt everything from my hair to my toes being judged. I slapped on a huge smile and reminded myself that he loved her despite the shenanigans she’d caused, so I owed it to him to try.

I extended my hand, “It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

“You, too, dear. I didn’t know you had a young lady, Niall.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, for a couple of months.” The tension was thick and I was uncomfortable.

“Did the two of you have a nice trip?” It was lame, but it was something. We stood and talked awkwardly (Niall had his arms crossed over his chest with his hands tucked, a sure sign he was uncomfortable) until dinner was announced. We were all at the same table, but luckily were joined by Bobby and Aoife as well, and Deo and Martin. Willie, Hannah, Eoghan, Bressie, and other friends were behind us, and at the next table were Justin and Kate (whom I had grown to quickly adore) and their family members. There were plenty of people to chat with so I could avoid direct conversation with Maura, who, to be fair, didn’t seem all that interested in talking to me. Luckily, the wine was flowing.

Shortly after dessert was served, some big shot came over and Niall introduced us all. As they left to start the speeches, the gentleman complimented Bobby and Maura on raising such a fine young man. Having sat back and watched her bask in Niall’s glory all night (and watching his jaw tense and him clench his fist when she did), including claiming him auditioning for XFactor was her idea (it wasn’t, and any fan with internet access knew that) and how she always knew he’d be special, my irritation grew, I couldn’t control myself. The cat was out to play.

“Yes, Bobby, he’s right,” I reached over and grabbed “the father-in-law” (as he’d dubbed himself the night before)’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You really did a fabulous job with that one. Thank you.” I knew Maura caught what I’d done, and frankly I didn’t care. She glared at me and I gave her the eye right back. Deo watched us in amusement.

“Zoe, would you like to go to the powder room with me?” She was throwing down a challenge, and emboldened by liquid courage, I took it.

“Certainly.” Aoife looked at me with wide eyes, and stood to come along. I waved my hand at her, and she grabbed it. She had my back.

“Aoife, I think this needs to be a talk between Niall’s mother and his fling,” Maura said, giving her a withering look. Oh fuck no. Those were fighting words. I pushed my chair in with a little more force than I’d intended, and the table shook. She might be little, but I had rage and a little country in me. I would take her on for insulting me, her ex-husband’s girlfriend, and abandoning her sons. With pleasure.

“Well, let’s go have this talk, shall we?” I turned on my heel and walked off to the private toilets, not looking back to see if she’d follow me. I knew she would. And I knew whatever I said would be turned around to make her the victim. We all knew women like her. I leaned against the toilet wall and waited.

“Listen, missy,” she’d barely cleared the door. Normally I hated confrontation, but this was different. This was standing up for Niall. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I am his mother and you will not undermine me. I am just as responsible for his success as his father!” She was feisty, I’ll give her that. “You don’t know anything about me and how dare you embarrass me in front of these people. You’re just a slag using him for his money and connections.” I just let her rant. Also, project much?

My voice was much more calm than I’d anticipated. “You’re right, Maura, I don’t know you. I don’t know what you went through when you abandoned your sons, but I’ve seen first hand the damage it’s caused. I’ve had to deal with the complex Niall has about women leaving him, and it almost ruined our relationship before it started. Forgive me if I underestimate your contribution to his life beyond birthing him.”

“You have some nerve!” The door opened and Aoife and Hannah walked in just in time to hear her shriek at me.

“I do. You’re right. But, I’m not ‘some fling’. If you were an active part of his life, you’d know that. Everyone else from Ireland knew. I love your son. Desperately. And I apologize,” that hurt to even say (sorry not sorry), “if you feel that I haven’t adequately respected you. But please quit taking credit for something you had very little to do with. Niall is the amazing person he is in spite of you, not because.” My peace being said, I brushed past her and walk out of the bathroom, my hands shaking and went straight to the bar.

The night proceeded on, but I felt uneasy. It probably wasn’t my place to tell his mother off, even though she richly deserved it. Especially on a night like this. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I couldn’t. My stomach rebelled against me and I was anxious as hell. I’d seen her approach Niall afterwards and the two of them venture outside, their heads bent towards one another. Shit. Before I could check with him, however, the performances started.

Hannah had shared the highlights (greatly exaggerating, as to be expected) with the boys, and Eoghan had declared me his hero. Bressie jokingly offered to pay my tab for the evening. Bobby very obviously called me daughter multiple times in her earshot. At least some people were on my side.

“Hidin’ so I can’t have a dance with ya?” I’d be standing at the bar, sipping another Horan cocktail, and his hands rubbed my hips. He dipped his mouth close to my ear and whispered, “Gotta be careful kissing your neck tonight. Not big on the taste of myself.” I laughed and turned around, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Hi, bugaboo.”

“Hi.” He kissed my nose. “Heard you’re causing trouble.” My stomach dropped and my face flamed even more. I bit my lip, hard.

“Sorry, I ran of-”

“Don’t apologize,” he stared at me. “No one has ever called Maura on her bullshit before. No one ever stood up for me like that.”

I exhaled, the weight of the world lifting off my shoulders. I pulled on a little piece of hair on his neck. “I could have picked a better venue, though.”

“Probably. But this is twice you’ve proven you’re a fucking bad ass in public.” He kissed me and lead me onto the dance floor as “Fix You” by Coldplay blasted. Appropriate.

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apexart-journal · 6 years

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Radha Gomaty in NYC Day 16

Enroute Washington

Had a particularly rough morning as my India phone suddenly dithered into deep coma just as i was readying to leave to catch the 9 am Bus to Washington .

Quite distraught I sat bent over the phone compulsively pressing the three buttons that i could see in various permutations and combinations and with varying finger pressures till time on the clock approached danger mark and i had to run from the room .

I find my way through the subways carrying a heavy shoulder bag besides my usual awfully ethnic glittery (and now rather dirty)cloth tote with its stitches coming undone that somehow gells well with this crazy city .

Of course, then there is my friend’s handy little leather multi pocket cross sling that carries everything from my proof of identity , all my various complimentary entry cards and metro /subway cards .In fact she hung it on my shoulder with emphasis genuinely afraid that I might lose my papers otherwise and end up in prison or something !

A gift notepad from my god daughter that i had cherished on my table without finding fit reason for using it fits in perfectly and had scrawled in its first page with a waterproof marker all important numbers of immediate near & dear that proves really useful now that my phoned conked out!

I thanked the stroke of intuition that had me do that just a coulee of ours before i left home for Kochi Airport.

Yet another friend lent me her veteran leather jacket advising me that i should wear this as soon as i disembark from the flight at JFK so that I look like a true blue New Yorker and not like some babe in the woods.

In short I had made my trip on some old clothes donated to me (category:Something OLD;status-check!)

Some new clothes , shoes and socks (first purchase since I passed school say , some 35 odd years ago and a pair of brand new spectacles (category :something NEW-check!)

Mostly borrowed stuff right from money for my food to all of my woolens and even two pieces of luggage of the three I had.(category: something BORROWED-Check!)

And something blue?Well ,Besides a pair of rather horrendous blue jeans hurriedly brought and in memory of an older body size that i once inhabited .It was now so large that I have to find ingenious ways every moment to keeping it from slipping down to the ground.

But then there were some events too just as I leaving home that for a few moments dyed Time to the deepest ultramarine possible.But thankfully only for a few moments ,as off late like a practiced boxer I duck on raw instinct rather than from rather deadly blows. designed to kill my sustaining spirit .

(category:Something BLUE-Check!)

BTW for readers rom my part of the Globe this business of having something OLD /NEW /BORROWED /BLUE is what a Bride is supposed to ensure she has on her person at the ceremony to ensure some things as follows:

Something old represents continuity; something new offers optimism for the future; something borrowed symbolizes borrowed happiness; something blue stands for purity, love, and fidelity.

A 1940’s song from my childhood that was part of dad’s vinyl record collection .the one i heard was by Vera Lynn but i can’t find it anywhere now trawling the net.

So please listen to this version by the Velours.

Yup.

I’ve deliberately chosen the one with the excessively frothy pulp romance visuals to rub it in and have people of understated refined tastes to run for cover.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vc0G7y1gfEU

Well !Me , a bride ,huh?

That’s a good one !

I’m sure reading this will have many folks i know in sniggers to downright splits at the prospect of a hat trick (Me too actually …!!! :D :D) , a grossly anomalous event for a woman ,at least in the cultural context I happen to be in !

But jokes aside ,in a way that is true about all trips like this, you know.

It is like one’s self (spelt with small case )and one Self (spelt with upper case)that ,ejected by some hidden cosmic plan across a huge distance from familiar physical coordinates and the habits of time zones ,embark upon on a unique honeymoon together within one …

Like in this lovely Hindi movie back home called ‘QUEEN’ after the mild mannered typically middle class protagonist called Rani (meaning Queen in English &played with finesse by Kangna Raut) who is stood up at the altar ,so to speak ,by her recently ‘settled abroad’ NRI fiancé because suddenly she is not smart & trendy enough to be part of his new life style abroad.

Though utterly shattered she embarks upon a radical decision encouraged by her feisty paternal grandmother -To use her honeymoon ticket and go to Paris & Amsterdam on a honeymoon all by herself as planned like commemorating a wedding that never happened .

The results are unexpected and totally exhilarating for Rani after some initial shocks which completely jolts her out of the narrow confines of her comfort zones that were based on role based conformity and not centred on the realities of her feeling-self.

The film traces how Rani , the average middle class Indian girl,begins to find herself finally in new locales through new & diverse friendships and challenging experiences restoring her to an unassailable fresh new sense of wholeness.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_(2014_film)

Distance has a way of conferring perspective as little else can as also the cosmopolitan multi cultural bustle that, throwing off-gear one’s sense of context ,challenges one to reexamine , feel ,assimilate and eventually generate anew every moment a new and enlivening context for being.

Just this evening on a watsapp call , my brother was telling me of a new book he was reading on the realities of a Dalit Life called ‘Ants amongst Elephants’ noted for its freshness by Sujata Gudia , based on the locales of her own life written only after she migrated to the US and became a subway conductor.

Even the cold , the wind , the need to layer over skin for a person from more hospitable or warmer climes where one may as well comfortably walk next to naked with just one multipurpose piece of cloth that works interchangeably as garment , mat or drape by night changes things in a way that is not easy to describe.But change it does ,from the fundamental level of the nebulous cusp of Body & Being.

The same reasons ,also dictated by a different culture of valuing Tme ,may necessitate similar changes in dressing -from wearing flowing clothes to closely fitted ones that facilitate free movement of limbs while keeping the cold out.

Simply put ,just the simple act of wearing pants , say even for a woman like me, changes things and facilitates entry from languid self containment to dynamism & extroverted action .

The giddying verticality of Metropolises also has a similar effect upon those who like me from not such a heavy metropolitanised( a new word I suspect but let it be!) living backdrop.

In short the stage is set for a strange wilderness to sudden burgeon forth almost overnight overrunning the complacence of Familiarity altogether . From within this wilderness strange new animals ,whose presence was only gleaned hitherto from an occasional track mark of sensation or from the sharp smell of droppings begin to show themselves better with a new found fearlessness.

Weird flowers blossom of strange hues and heady scents that disorient the head as in open eyed dreams .Voices unheard hitherto begin to make themselves audible .

I am convinced now that Traveling far makes one more amenable to accept the fact that perhaps the very nature of Life is a virtual reality .I stumbled on that secret long ago but frankly speaking ,its the darned diciest thing to get used to though with the years and the abrasions of experience ,I think I’ve made much better peace with it .

“…so why did i come so far,my love ? to catch a glimpse of an Amerindian lifetime that still courses through our blood ?The time when the horses brought in by the Spaniards escaped and came in first from Peru through Mexico through the Oklahoma plains to multiply and run beautifully wild and you were part of those who lassoed and made peace with them to become our steadfast friends ?”

Amerindians??

Did i actually doze off for a split second in the Metro Bus headed to Washington DC that everyone seemed to called by its euphemism ,’the Blue Bus’?

My fellow passenger , a man from Honduras who has worked in the US for 16years now and longs to return home is happy to let me have his window seat .

He gladly accepts a piece of Kappalandi Mittai or Peanut Candy from back home as agonizing over my phone left me no time to prep or eat anything for breakfast. i make do with gnawing at an apple afterwards thinking I shall eat in Washington.

Washington !

Can two cities be so totally different?

The Metro station has this glam front of cafes et al and suddenly with one turn the whole atmosphere changes into a grey drab one.i have trouble with topping my Metro Card and a family from Kerala reach there just in time as if to help me.The gate won’t open and I enter through an emergency door.

Everything is strange ,bleak,dark and interminably gray even the lifeless mechanical announcements .I feel it takes an eternity to find my way walking too to the Beacon hotel .

The young lady at the desk checks out ‘Margaret Ewing’ under whose name my room has been booked .While she is examining my passport for a second time with apologies for the inconvenience caused ,Trump is delivering voice mime thunderbolts on illegal immigrants on a silenced TV Set in the tastefully decorated lobby.

Standing there i find myself worrying about one of James’ students, I think one who is on our show at Apex, whose dad is on the receiving end of this with the aftershocks landing on the prospects of the entire family.

James ,whom I met at Apex is a wonderful teacher of Art at a Public or city funded school in the Bronx where the poorest people live ,many of them precariously.

i get my room keys finally and enter a business class room with two huge single beds ,a TV set , a coffee maker and something that I think is a microwave oven .

For the first time since i came ,I'm feeling a bit lost.

I miss my home@1Irving street, the cute white Mac on the table by the window that helps me type my thoughts, the narrow crowded streets outside full of really interesting looking people , the crazy subways abuzz with chaos &music...

Yeah, my phone from India on which I refused to change the time in India to keep in touch withy beloved ones there abruptly dying with all my contacts in it and remembering that it's my father's birthday and my younger son not realizing perhaps that I haven't called not because I don't care but I can't, adds to it.

My packed lunch of Rice and Mung sprouts suddenly turns tasteless in my mouth.

I hurriedly get up.

Schedule beckons …. (to be contd.)

#Radha Gomaty #Inbound from South Eroor

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