In the Heart of It

“The truth, he thought, has never been of any real value to any human being. In human relations, kindness and lies are worth a thousand truths”— Graham Greene, The Heart of the Matter

A midday text woke up Malita. She turned in bed, and squinted at the screen on the bedside table. It read, ‘Are you up, yet? Did I just wake you up?’ She frowned and texted back. ‘Of course, darlin’ thinking about you too. Miss you.’

‘Wonderful, Check with the jeweller, they messaged your new order is ready to pick up.’

‘Really? Insane! I’ll be there soon.’

‘Meet me for lunch?’

Pressing her lips together, she took some time answering. She wrote, ‘Hmm, actually, I’m meeting Lola for lunch today, if that’s okay.’

‘Sure, have a great lunch, see you at home.’

‘Much Love,’ she sent through a red-heart emoji.

Malita pulled the quilt over her head, dug deeper, laying still for a while. She stretched, yawned then rolled out of bed, stepped on the cold marble floor of a spacious bathroom. She headed barefoot towards a glassed enclosed shower. Excited about the new necklace, another generous gift from her husband; Jack had not only ordered it, but also thought to wake her up.

She chose to wear a black and white cotton stripe pants and a white satin blouse. Dabbing pink lipstick, she sprayed channel 5 over the blouse; Prada shoes to match a Louis Vuitton hand bag. She proceeded towards the garage. From her black convertible Audi, she messaged Jack, ‘Off to the jeweller, see you at dinner, my love.’ A mechanical smile hovered over her mouth. 

She drove to the jeweller, Polwi Jewellery on Loenig Street. Looking for a park, she found one across the street; parked, she walked to cross over to the shop. An obliged jeweller opened the door, ushering her into his private office. He seated her comfortably in a leather chair.

The jeweller brought a pastel coloured casket before her and opened it; a glittering diamonds and rubies necklace, set into Roberto Coin 18 carat gold was unveiled. With a pleased smile, she wrote a check for two-hundred thousand Mauritian Rupees. The casket handed to her in a bag, she rose from the chair, took it with a hand shake, exchanged a few pleasantries, then exited through the shopfront.

Back in the car, she placed the bag safely into the glove box, before driving off to Lola’s Paradise Island House in Port Louis for lunch. At the gate of Lola’s house, Malita buzzed. When it opened, she drove through and turned off the ignition on the driveway. Lola was waiting on the balcony. They saw one another. She waved to her to come to the balcony. Lola greeted her here, hugged and sat down together in the copious sunlight. She asked her about Jack, and Malita shrugged. Lola’s Edward passed away a few years now but she never partnered—still a stinging, teary-eyed remembrance.

Malita had bought the casket bag along to show Lola the jewellery. She opened it and Lola gasped, “Wow! Look at this beauty, another one of Jack’s precious gifts, loving you to bits!

“Actually, yes.”

She said straight-faced, peering into the clear sky.

“How ‘bout you?” Lola asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Where’s your enthusiasm, girl?” Lola said.

“I’m fond of him, you know that. He’s generous.”

“That’s it?” 

Alluding to the casket, Lola asked, but was interrupted by a maid who brought them lunch.

A light ribbon sandwich lunch and a pot of tea was served. Malita took a full cup from the maid, and picked a sandwich laced with egg around the edge. Lunch and chitchat over how tasty the sandwiches were and how perfectly the tea brew, Malita began to fidget. She said she needed to walk the dog before dinner; any lame excuse to be at home like she did last supper, Lola thought briefly. They rose and walked her over to the car, cheeked goodbyes to one and another, while Malita clicked open the car door.

With the casket into the glove box, she drove up to the gate, when her iphone rang; braking abruptly, she picked it up. Jack was calling to inform that his mother was in the emergency with a hipbone fracture. She said, ‘on my way,’ rolled down her window and screamed at Lola that mother-in-law was in the hospital! Lola opened her mouth, rounding it, as she drove past.

At the hospital, Malita sauntered through the emergency looking for Jack. Sitting in a corner, he was biting the back of his hand, stress marks on his forehead. When he saw Malita, he came running to her and grasped her in an embrace. Malita managed a small hug and patted on his shoulder, saying. “There, there it’s just a fracture, I’m sure doctors would fix it in no time.”

“Mum’s a mess! She’s in so much pain.”

Pacing up and down the room, Jack looked at her oddly; her calm demeanour eluded him. As soon as Malita saw this reaction, she cupped his face within her palms and asked to take her to see Mother. With a nod, she also told Jack that she would go home, prepare dinner herself because it was the maid’s day off, walk the dog and return to the hospital with the meal. Jack, appreciative of her “presence of mind,” also gave a polite nod.

Jack took her to see Mother. A nurse was with her at the time who said that a surgeon was going to operate on the fracture this evening. Malita touched Mother’s forehead, who stared back vaguely looking quite lost. The nurse wheeled her into the next room, while Jack and Malita stood by her head. Malita looked at Jack and told him she must go now. Jack said, ‘yes, of course,’ with a peck on her neck. She left Jack standing alone and walked back to the car. 

At home, she turned off the ignition on her driveway, pulled her casket bag out of the glove box, walked up to the house and let herself in. A diligent maid was cooking in the kitchen. When she saw her, Malita asked. “Nasima, did you walk the dog?” 

She answered. “Yes, Ma’am, as usual before I started work.”  

Malita said. “Good. Prepare a nice dinner and pack it up neatly in an esky, Mother is in the hospital, I’ll have to take her some food.” 

“Sure, Ma’am.” 

Malita climbed upstairs into her bedroom. She took her shoes off on the thick carpet, and stood before a dresser with the casket. Taking out the necklace, she put it on and watched the glitter  in the mirror match a shine in her eyes. Her fingers went over the necklace a few times, growing a fondness. She took it off and put the necklace away in the locker room adjacent to the bedroom. Next, she sat down in a puffy lounge chair with her arms folded lazily across the chest. There was a slight knock on her door. It must be Nasima. She asked her to enter.

“I’ve packed the food in an esky.” 

“I’ll be eating at home, Jack will have dinner with Mother.” 

Nasima said. “Oh! I see. I thought you were having dinner with him in the hospital, I packed your food too in the esky.”

Malita heard a pesky voice inside her head. She told Nasima. “Okay, leave it there. I’ll eat in the hospital with them. You can go home now.”

“Okay Ma’am, I’ll return tomorrow morning.”

The maid left gently, closing the door behind her.

 Malita changed into a comfortable long dress. She went downstairs and opened the esky. She took out a plate, sat in front of the television and ate a complete dinner. Her favourite soap opera was on. She took a shine to the character, who pretty much reflected her own attachment to a secured life sought in a marital relationship, without any romance involved. Under no circumstances, the character could endure being torn away from her husband; intriguing drama. Just when Jack also rang. The operation was successful.

Jack was waiting in an empty room no, 096. Mother, still in the recovery room, when Malita entered with esky in one hand and coffee in another. Jack rose and gave her a tight hug with a steamy kiss. She hugged him slightly, barely touching his lips. They sat down side by side on a sofa. Without much ado, Malita opened the esky to plate food for both saying that she wanted to dine with him together in the hospital which pleased him. She also told Jack that she was putting on too much weight so she ate less.

Over dinner, Jack told her that physio was starting from the next day. During post-op, physio was paramount; without this, she wouldn’t walk, again. It wasn’t until midnight that Mother came back to her room from the post-op. She was drowsy. She told them to go home. Malita and Jack left the hospital after telling her that they would return in the morning. 

They came home. Jack had nodded off in the drive. When he woke up, Malita had already garaged the car. She woke him up. He got out of the car and entered the house followed by Malita. As soon as Jack stepped into the kitchen area to take the stairs, he glimpsed Malita’s soiled dinner plate on the coffee table. Too tired, he went upstairs into the bedroom, yawning. He changed into a night shirt, went straight to bed and waited for Malita, who did the same in a while, joining him in bed. Before falling off to sleep, Malita looked at Jack and told him in earnest. “I feel safe with you, Jack. I love you.” Jack planted a kiss on her forehead, she kissed him back.  

Jack slept like a baby. Oblivious of her telltale heart, Malita woke up through the night, reaching out to feel his presence beside her. However, no desire leaped inside her to crawl closer to him or hold him tight into her loving arms; this simple creature comfort was enough for her.

The room was dark, with some light shed from the street lamp, dancing on the walls looking like all kinds of shadow creatures. She remembered something— a conversation with a blind seer in Paris. Her name, Claudia Deneuve—On a bright Parisian morning last year, Malita was sitting alone in a park, when someone came and sat down beside her. She looked at her and smiled. Malita realised she was blind because she had a guide dog, a blind stick and dark goggles on. She had told her that Malita was being unkind to her partner because she had been feigning love all her life; all the sweet lies she had been telling him through five years that she loved him, when she had none. Security and separation anxiety consumed here; they were her primary reasons to be with him. He believed every one of her lies were utterly convincing that they suppressed the truth—crazy as it was, but here she was, the clairvoyant for a reason, to tell Malita ‘that truth shall break this beautiful lie one day.’

The next day in the hospital, the physio nurse was already there. Malita and Jack sat by Mother and watched her work. Jack found it most impressive the way the nurse handled Mother; care and the love exuded in her mannerisms of tender touch and soft utterances. Malita saw the warmth in Jack’s eyes for the nurse.

In a little while, an elderly gentleman walked into the room—Jalen Kemp, came to see Mother. Malita knew Jalen from before. Father’s retired friend from her old neighbourhood where she grew up. They had met accidentally a few months ago, shopping with Mother. Malita had introduced them and then they had coffee. Mother and Jalen had a spirited conversation and gelled mysteriously; Cupid’s arrow couldn’t be more solid struck into the hearts; they exchanged phone numbers. Then, Mother fell and came into the hospital. She must have messaged him at some point, in between her pain relief that she was recuperating in this hospital.

“Hello, Jalen, good to see you, too,” Malita said.

“Yes, yes. Of course. Glad to see you.”

Jalen remarked over his brisk pace across the room to be at Mother’s bedside. An urgency noted in his gait, as he pulled up a chair to sit closer; interlaced kindred spirit, entwining fingers, losing into each other’s depths. He kissed her on the forehead, she on his lips. She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling and caressing each other. 

In that moment, it came to pass. Jack sensed something and had an awkward awakening. He rose from his chair and he barged out. On his way, he took a coin from his pocket and tossed it at her—head or tail. Malita shot a furtive glance at him. But she also followed him in the narrow passageway where they stood and had an argument. Jack was heard yelling at one point.

“What the hell’s going on between us?” 

When a nurse came running and told them to take it elsewhere. Malita spun around and left the scene. Jack didn’t go after her. She went to her car and messaged Lola that she was coming over. Lola said, it was ok.

Just like the other day, Malita parked her car on Lola’s driveway while her bestie waited here for her. They embraced and Lola saw her distress. Lola suggested.

“Say, do you want to go for a stroll in the garden?”

Malita nodded and said. “We need to talk.”

Lola heard her sighs and knew the foreshadowing signs.

“Truth can never die, dying is just not in its nature; its job is to find a way to kill a lie. However, how it does so, over the most trifle matter is interesting,” she snickered.

“What do you mean? What truth are we talking about, right now?” 

Lola looked at her curiously.

She said. “Truth without a proof, for instance, someone hitting a motor vehicle without a witness, or a child getting bullied in a school playground without any one noticing.”

“I don’t understand. What are you on about?” 

“Its complicated. Let me draw you an example,” she said. “My sojourne in Paris was an eye-opener. It taught me how we were never the makers of Fates, yet, we believed that we were.” 

“What happened in Paris?” .

“I’d met a blind clairvoyant who was able to see the light that I did not see coming.” 

Malita told Lola about the conversation she had with this seer in a Paris park.

“Hmm interesting. What truth do you hide from Jack?”

“Right or wrong. I fed him sweet lies everyday for breakfast, lunch and dinner that my life would end without him. I loved so, so much that I felt no concern or danger when he was around. He filled me with joy and happiness,” she said.

“Why’re all these in past tense? Have you stopped lying?”

“Again, complicated,” she said. “Are you also having an affair?”

“No, I don’t think I am capable of romantic love,” she said.

“What?”

“There’s more,” Malita said.

“Okay, go on, then?”

“The fact, I cannot love him, I tried, but I can’t leave him, either? However, I pretended. I texted, ‘companionship,’ ‘loneliness,’  ‘love you’ and so on. And his inevitable response, ‘I understand,’ ‘of course, love and kisses’ words, shaped the kernel of our relationship accompanied by sapphires, rubies and diamonds—courtships,” she said.

“Astonishing lies, I must say.” 

“Impeccable, but the truth cannot be hidden forever. It’s out!” she said.

“How so?”

Malita told her about Mother and Jalen Kemp’s visit. 

“Jack saw what he needed to see beyond any shadow of a doubt. The truth was staring him in the face,” she said.

“Right, what truth did he sense?” 

“Love. He sensed pure love even at their frail age and what they were capable of feeling,” she said.

“What happened next?” 

“Jack and I had an argument. After which I came here,” she said.

“Did you apologise?”

“I told him the brutal truth—head or tail flip. Tail.” ‘He’d asked. Do you love me?’ ‘I’d said, no, I live with you because I feel secure having you around…’

“—-the truth was out at last, lest he found the dutiful nurse more attractive,” she smirked.

“Wow!Brava!”

“Yes, he’s processing it,” she said. “Sweeter, if my lies had prevailed, this is stark, loveless realty, no?”

“Your insincere lies were kinder, but you finally owned up to the truth!”

“What’s ‘real love’ anyway? Fleeting moments of sweetness, floating on time, isn’t it? Erodes, the long and the short of it—a fling.” 

Biting her lips, she thought of Jalen and Mother.

Lola shrugged, they strolled on. Gentle winds nudged the witch-hazels on the far side; she pointed out, ‘harbinger of spring,’ the hummingbirds sang of ‘love and healing.’

Malita’s phone rang through the quiet panacea. She looked pale in the afternoon’s dying light. Lola watched her as she moved away to speak to the caller. It lasted over fifteen minutes. Her hands were raised and lowered several times. At one point, she screamed. ‘Jack, please listen to me. Don’t be silly!’ She palmed her forehead as she bent over—breaking, quivering, suppressing her sobs. There was no easy way to deal with this. Sucking up the truth was the hardest. Lola heard, ‘End it? Really, after five years of marital bliss?’

Unbearable, shouldn’t she get a second chance, maybe? Lola thought. Malita was running, running away from a harsh, unforgiving reality without a happy ending. Life wasn’t perfect, we all knew that but no one was eager to welcome grief, either. Lie if we must! Guilt? Every wrong had a consequence. Lola wasn’t a maker of Fates, but she had sensed disaster in the recent balcony meetup.

She ran after Malita to stop her; to tell her that she shouldn’t feel guilt, her marital relationship based on a sullied rock of lies was in pursuit of a pie in the sky. The truth, however, was also that she was faithful. So what if she couldn’t love him? Her constant loyalty was solid, wasn’t it? Lola watched a grim Malita get into her car, revving up and driving off. 

Lola had no idea if Malita drove into the sunset. However, one day, she received a text from her that a payout of Three Million Dollars was transferred into her account as divorce settlement. She was off to Paris. A few months later, Lola saw yet another footage of a certain Claudia Deneuve, a blind clairvoyant in Paris, receiving a donation of exactly Three Million Dollars that made the headlines. Lola texted Malita straightaway, and she texted back that she had donated the entire amount to her. She found her through the police and had the check delivered through them. 

‘Why?’ Lola texted her response, ‘to reclaim my dignity, my life is wasted without Jack.’ 

Badly bruised, she went on a cruise, called Silver Spirit. Lola relaxed that Malita was trying to be happy again. Until another footage emerged from the ashes of the dead. Reports of a storm and ship wreckage off the Indian Ocean with wild images of washed up, unidentified bodies recovered. Lola took a closer look at one of the pictures. What dangled clumsily from one of the death clasps was Jack’s last gift to Malita—the diamond and ruby necklace.

By Mehreen Ahmed

From: Australia