The Stranger

Serena Amjad, Karachi socialite that she was, prided herself on always being able to present a poised front, even in the most awkward of situations. That’s why, when her two-year-old daughter’s teenage maid walked into Serena’s bedroom while she was changing – her summery caftan unable to hide the nakedness of her calves, the maid bursting into tears from the sight of such lovely and vulnerable flesh being exposed in such a crude fashion – Serena calmly steered the girl out of her room, purposely squeezing the still raw burn on Saima’s left shoulder, implicitly reminding her that it was rude and hurtful to bring attention to another’s frailties. Once she made sure her bedroom door was shut and securely locked, she went about her recently cultivated routine of applying lotion to, and spraying foundation onto, her legs, before gently encasing them in a pair of loose white pants.

“Mommy, mommy, hurry!� came a wail from outside the door. “Saima sad. What wrong?�

Serena quickly unlocked her door and scooped her troubled and curious daughter into her arms.

“What wrong, Mommy? Saima sad.�

“It’s nothing, my sweet. Let’s give Saima some breakfast and she’ll feel all better. What do you think? And you can eat with her, so she doesn’t feel lonely. Okay?�

Serena loved the soft cushioning of her daughter’s cheeks, her perfect peaches and cream complexion, and the delicate durability of her two-year-old skin. The very qualities Serena seemed to be losing sight of in her own mirror image.

With child in tow, Serena regally descended the curving marble staircase of her house, expertly stepping over a doll here, a DVD jacket cover there, breezing through the sparely decorated, white foyer, then the recently renovated lounge with its upholsteries in three different shades of blue, into the white tiled kitchen and breakfast nook, where the child was handed over to the, by now, sober maid, and forced to sit in a high chair with an avalanche of Fruit Loops placed before her.

“Gleen,� Rayya squealed with delight, as she held up a circular piece of baked and colored carbohydrate, and popped it into her mouth.

“Good job, Rayya!� Serena sang with the autopilot practice of an oft-distracted mother. “What other colors do you see?�

As Saima sat next to Rayya, helping her sift through the kaleidoscope of colors lying before her, Serena stood slightly apart, leaning on the kitchen’s island, a previously brewed cup of tea in her hands, thinking that the only color she saw today was gray. Last week was all about red, but today she lived in gray. The worst color of all, universally drab and unflattering. That not even a wall full of windows and sunshine could erase. Like the leftover stain of soda on her white pants or the hollowing contours around her eyes and jaw. Gray, like a permanent scar on her frontal lobe, dulling the disco lights in her eyes, carving cracks into her vision. All the better to look at her enchanted life and see it for what it really was.

***

Small-hearted. Those were the words Irteza Amjad had used only a week earlier to describe his wife. The argument had begun over a trivial issue, much as they often did, but had soon escalated into a farce of nature.

“I’ve booked my ticket to Phuket for the week of June 1st. The decision’s been made. I will accompany my brothers on our annual trip, as I always do with your full knowledge,� was one of the many things he’d said. “I don’t know why you’re choosing this year to be difficult and get in the way of my plans. Shame on you, Serena. Shame on you for not wanting me to take a small break from my grueling job to have some fun. You’ve really just shown how small-hearted you are.�

Those last few words had left her too dazed to argue any further. Small hearted. What exactly did that mean? That when she claimed to love her husband with “all of her heart�, or bore him a daughter with “a face like his but a heart of gold like hers�, as he enjoyed saying on occasion, or even when she put “her heart� into building a beautiful home for the three of them and peopling it regularly with friends and family – in the end, none of that really held any value, since, as he claimed, it was a miniscule heart to begin with?

Serena knew Irteza didn’t mean what he said, no matter how vehemently he claimed the contrary. Their five-year courtship had taught her to expect many things from the youngest inheritor of the Amjad Pharmaceuticals Karachi-based family-owned business. A mean streak was only one of them.

Before purposefully exiting their bedroom to spend the night in the guest room down the hall, Irteza had accidentally tipped a glass of water from the dresser onto the floor, smashing it into five large shards of jagged glass, and countless smaller pieces of varying cut and clarity, as if he was leaving behind for his wife the sparkling guise of a gift, a scattered array of crushed diamonds.

Serena had been unable to pry her eyes away from the sheen of the wreckage.

***

“Bhabi, what is this I hear of you trying to hijack our plans?� said a nasal, mustachioed voice at the other end of the phone line. He was clearly upbeat about the fact that he knew the aforementioned bhabi didn’t have the necessary power to follow through on her provocation. “Come now. What is this all about? You’re getting your little summertime vacation in the States with your parents, are you not?�

Serena didn’t know what to say. These Amjad brothers had a way of making her feel foolish. Yes, she was scheduled to spend two months with her family while Irteza stayed back for work. But what no one understood was she would gladly give up a trip to her previous home to experience a sense of belonging where she currently lived. A sense of respect afforded to her by a husband who believed in consulting with his life partner and taking an interest in her feelings and concerns, no matter how ill-conceived. And a sense of love from the man she had once fallen so madly in love with, not the man she woke up next to every morning and increasingly felt like she no longer recognized.

“Hmm,� Serena replied non-committally. “Farooq Bhai, I have no such intentions of ruining your trip,� she said, hoping to put his mind at ease, so as to cease all further discussion on the topic. She could just imagine the scene – Irteza walking into the office he shared with his three brothers, complaining about his wife’s sudden and unexpected resistance to his meticulously laid-out plans, his brothers laughing at the sight of their baby brother finally experiencing the end of the honeymoon stage in his marriage and the realization that wives are not the willing and pliable subjects they once used to be. Why couldn’t Irteza have kept the matter to himself? Where was the independent thinker she had met six years ago in college in New York? And who was this impostor that made his family out to be the main excuse, the cause, and the saving grace of everything that had happened to them after they’d settled in Karachi? ‘Serena, we have to live here; I owe it to my father to join the family business.’ ‘Serena, I’m sorry. If it were up to me, I’d have planned Rayya’s first birthday the way you wanted it. But you know how sensitive my mother is. Let’s let her have her way this time.’ ‘Serena, don’t you dare insult my family. I am who I am because of them. If you can’t accept them, then it seems we have a big problem, you and I.’

“Now if you’ll just excuse me, Farooq Bhai,� Serena said,� I need to extricate my daughter from a bit of a sticky situation. She’s managed to slide herself off her high chair and get her grubby hands into the honey jar, which our maid has conveniently left in her reach. Meanwhile, the maid is nowhere to be seen. You’ll have to excuse me.� She said this all as suavely and politely as possible, though in reality, she was exhausted just by having to talk to him. She had nothing against Farooq or either of the other brothers. She couldn’t possibly hold them responsible for her own short-sighted, and it now seemed, ill-fated, decision to marry one of their kind.

“Of course, darling, you go,� he replied. “Give a big kiss to Rayya for me, will you?�

After hanging up the phone, wiping clean Rayya’s hands, scolding the maid for disappearing, and depositing her own unfinished cup of tea in the sink, Serena suddenly became aware of something she’d been trying to ignore all morning. Her legs were killing her.

Upstairs in her bedroom, Serena quietly swallowed two pain-killers and an ounce of filtered water. She got under her bedcovers and automatically curled into the fetal position, noting the time on the digital clock by her bed, before falling asleep. It was only eleven o’clock in the morning.

***

When she woke up, Rayya was standing by the bed, staring at her mother as if she were a stranger. Then came the warm, wide smile of recognition.

“Mommy! Why you sleeping?�

“Yeah, Mommy. Why you sleeping?� echoed a masculine voice from the opposite edge of the bed.

“Irteza,� Serena whispered without turning around. She cleared her throat. “What are you doing home at this hour?� she asked in a louder voice. She quickly checked the digital clock by her bed and was stunned to see 5:00 blinking back at her in red.

Jerking upright, she looked at her husband and asked, “Did the electricity go while I was asleep?� When that happened, the clock always had to be reset. Still groggy and rubbing her eyes, a thought occurred to her. “What about the generator? It should have turned on automatically.�

“It did.� Irteza sat on one corner of the bed, looking at his wife with concern. “And there’s nothing wrong with the clock. The question right now, it seems to me, is what in the world is wrong with you?�

She stared listlessly into her lap, before letting out a shallow sigh and reclining her back against the headboard. Then, with great effort, she looked up at her husband and said, “I wish I knew.�

***

She was allowing herself to believe that the real reason for her discontent was that she had become unhappy in her marriage. Even while she thought it, though, she knew this was entirely untrue. No matter how difficult life could be, no matter how invasive the in-laws or overwhelming the child, or even neglectful the husband, she did love Irteza. She would never do anything to jeapordize her marriage.

The truth was, in fact, that a few months ago and without any prior notice, someone had moved in. Taking up permanent residence inside her body, he was constantly telling her what an unfit mother she was, what a disgrace as a wife. This man dressed in gray enjoyed exploring her body, pinching the tissue of her blood vessels, gliding from one axon to the next, showering in the chemicals that made up her hormones and neurotransmitters. The entire time he reveled in her body though, he was aiming a gun at her. With a non-stop barrage of unattractive expletives and hate speech pouring forth from his luscious cherry lips, it was a wonder that Serena was still able to make it from one day to the next, keeping an unfocused eye on the inexperienced girl taking care of her baby, and presenting the image of a stable woman who cared about the people around her. The truth was - and this man knew it, too - she cared for nothing, not even herself.

That’s why it had felt immensely satisfying that night, when she and Irteza had fought, and he had slept in the guest bedroom, to pick up a piece of broken glass and try to stab the man living inside her. “Get out!� she had cried. “Please, get out.� He heard her, but did nothing. He watched from a dark corner as she carved the word ‘small’ on one leg, and ‘hearted’ on the other, the cuts leaking red onto the gray bed sheets beneath her. He had watched silently in satisfaction as she then spent all night cleaning the mess she had made, hiding her wounds, and trying to rationalize to herself that, despite what she had just done, she was still the one in control. And as she finally lay, drained and exhausted, in bed, he allowed her the simple pleasure of believing this to be true.

***

That night, Irteza lay next to her, trying to ignore the stranger in his bed, coaxing the woman he loved to face him.

“You know, I’ve been really worried about you. You seem so sad all the time. And I’ve been thinking. If it’s gotten you so upset, I’ll cancel the trip.� He waited for a reaction, but when none was forthcoming, he continued. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not because I think there was anything wrong with my going. But I just can’t stand to see you like this.� He lay on his side in bed, facing her back, one dim bulb still glowing from his bedside lamp. She had long ago switched hers off and turned away from him, but he knew she was still awake. Now, he traced his finger down her bare shoulder and arm, eventually letting his hand rest on top of hers. “Despite what you may think, I love you. And I don’t want you to be sad. If my staying back in Karachi will make you happy, then I’m ready to do it.�

Serena could not believe the words she was hearing. Even more confounding to her, were the words coming out of her mouth: “That’s okay, jaan. You should go.� Her voice sounded distant, almost uncaring. “Like you said, you deserve some time to yourself, some time to relax.� She felt pathetic even as she spoke. But something, or someone, inside her, knew that if she let him go, if she let him be happy, things would just be so much easier to handle. She wouldn’t be happy, but at least he would. If she stopped him from going, not only would he sulk for days, but she would remain unsatisfied. Nothing would change that. This, the man told her unequivocally.

“Are you sure?� Irteza asked. “Do you really mean that? I mean, I’m ready to do whatever makes you happy.� His hand gripped her arm, gently pushing it back onto the bed, so that she was lying down, facing him. Not waiting for an answer, he kissed her on the lips. She could sense, in that kiss, his sudden desire. She was aware that they hadn’t made love in a week. She was aware that what would make him happiest right now, was if she allowed him to go on the trip this summer, and make love to her tonight. The urge to do that, to make someone happy, was suddenly so strong. There was only one problem.

“I’m sure,� she said, propping herself up on one arm, reaching the other one over him to switch off the lamp. Then she gently pushed him down onto his back, and swung her pajamed legs onto both sides of him. Standing up in the darkness, she cautiously undressed. Then she returned to him, lying on top of his stomach, holding his hands down to his sides. Slowly, she moved her body in practiced strokes, making sure he couldn’t feel any part of her that wasn’t soft and unscarred.

***

It ended up feeling good, like her body was still her own. Like she was still capable of pleasing herself or someone she loved. Like there wasn’t a third person in the room, prompting her every move.

Except that there was. And this stranger was just waiting for her to wake up in the morning and realize there was still a man inside her, a man who she would never be able to please.