The woman was
definitely angry. Oh, she was trying to hide it, camouflaging her stiff
shoulders under the soft fall of her shoulder-length hair. But that grim look
about her lips? Those highly glossed lips spoke of gritted teeth and possibly
some amount of gnashing as well. But the woman was not bad looking, for all
that. Just not the person I'd like to spend the morning with. And unless I was
mistaken, that was what I would end up doing, unless I moved in the next thirty
seconds.
But I was comfortable.
The umbrella shaded the deckchair at just the right angle, my cushion had
worked its way down my back to just the right spot, and the glass of lemonade
in my hand was delicious. I was comfortable and the view was delightful and I
really did not want to give all that up because of one potentially annoying
woman. Or maybe I just wanted to know what was eating her.
So I took another sip
of my lemonade and looked out to the sea, watching the waves rushing onto the
beach. They were just about ready to recede when I became aware of movement to
my right. An evidently overstuffed beach bag was dumped unceremoniously next to
my own, raising a little puff of dust that managed to irritate me. I am not
fond of dust on my bags. I did not raise a dust about it, though.
She sat on the
deckchair. She rummaged about in her bag for something. That poor bag was so
stuffed that some other stuff fell out. She pulled out a bright pink scarf that
almost made me smile. It was so exactly what I expected her to own. She pulled
out a tube of cream and then pushed it back. She pulled out a bottle of lotion.
She pulled out a thick book with a bright cover. Why was everything about this
woman so bright? She might just start annoying me if she didn't stop her
distracting antics. We both knew why she had come down to the beach, and it
wasn't to read. But then again, why should I make her life easier?
That thought, tempered
by another sip of that wonderful lemonade, cooled me down. This would be
interesting. Something to tell my friends. Maybe something to blog about. Who
knew?
She seemed to pause for a moment, and I
could have sworn I felt her glaring at me. Then with a lot of jangling of
bangles and swishing of sundress, she made herself comfortable. I was relieved,
to be honest. The way that woman had been going on, I thought she would spend
the entire morning packing and repacking that beach bag of hers.
“Such a lovely view, isn’t it?” she gushed.
Aha, there it was, the expected and entirely trite opener.
I merely smiled. I knew I had to save my
breath for later.
“We just arrived last night. You must have
been here a few days already, I guess? I mean you seem to have taken the best
spot here!” she trilled with a slightly fake laugh.
I yawned and said, “I’ve been here three
days.”
She took that as license to further our
acquaintance.
“Are you here alone? I mean you seem to be
here alone. Most people don’t like holidaying alone, do they? It’s more fun
when you are with someone, isn’t it?” Clearly, she was getting at something
here, and subtlety wasn’t her strong point.
“Apparently it’s a matter of opinion,” I
replied, deciding not to snub her outright. “You are not here alone, I guess.”
“Oh no! I’m here with my husband.”
Ah, there it was, that possessive lilt on
the last word, that slight aggression leaking into her tone. Now we were
getting somewhere.
“Really? That’s nice for you, I’m sure,” I
replied.
“Oh yes, we got married just a month back.
You know how it is with newly-weds,” she gushed, her lashes doing a poor job of
masking the daggers her eyes were shooting at me. Maybe she needed false
eyelashes or something.
“I am not married, so I can’t claim to
know. But I’m sure you are very happy,” I replied with a bland smile.
It worked. She could barely contain her
indignation. “I am! We are! It is the best thing that has happened to us! It’s
not surprising that some people are probably jealous of us.”
Suddenly, I was tired of waiting for this
annoying woman to get to the point. She was clearly not averse to ruining my
entire morning with her pointless chatter and bright pink scarf. Besides, I was
never a great fan of veiled barbs and conversations conducted entirely in
another person’s mind.
“Is that what’s worrying you, then?” I asked.
“I’m not worried. My husband and I couldn’t
be bothered by such people. Everyone knows that some people just like to make
trouble. Let barking dogs bark, that is what I believe,” she said, pursing up
her lips.
“You take such a mature view of things. But
I am still young. If this wasn’t our first meeting, I would have said you were
trying to warn me off, strange as that may sound,” I commented, crossing my
ankles and sipping my lemonade.
She gasped. She obviously hadn’t expected
me to fight back, in whatever war she had brought me.
“I am younger than you!” she asserted. Oh
right, that is what she would get out of it. But young wasn’t always a good thing,
and it was time she learnt that.
“You look it! How old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” she replied, looking a little
mollified. “My husband is a businessman. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”
Oh, is that how she was going to play it? It
was time to end the charade.
“Sheetal, do you want to stop pretending
you don’t know who I am? And if you want to keep up this cloak and dagger
pretence you had going, then maybe we could continue in the evening? I rather
like having a peaceful morning,” I said, looking straight at her.
She seemed riled. “How did you know who I
am?”
“Facebook,” I replied succinctly.
She drew in a breath. “So you have been
stalking him, have you? But you better stay away from him. I don’t care how
long you two were dating and I don’t care how well you think you knew him. You
stay away!”
I thought she looked a little hysterical.
She certainly sounded that way. So I just raised an eyebrow in this way that I
have, and asked, “What makes you think I am even interested anymore?”
“You are here. You found out we were coming
here, didn’t you? Listen, it’ll be better for all of us if you just go away.”
She seemed to think she had reasoned everything out so logically.
But someone had to burst her bubble, and
preferably before breakfast. So I took it on myself. “Sheetal, get a grip. Ask
your dear husband why he chose this resort for a holiday. He knows I own the
place.”
“Y-you own the r-resort?” she stuttered.
This was news, it seemed. I felt a little bad for her. I had been pretty naïve
at twenty-two myself.
“The island, actually. But that is really
not the point.” Actually it kind of was, but I didn’t want to say it out loud. I
sighed and stretched. So much for a relaxing morning on the beach.
I got up, slung my bag over my shoulder and
looked down at her with a grin. “Don’t look so horrified. Tell Madhav I said
hello.” With that, I walked off, leaving her gaping.
So the morning wasn’t a total waste. I may
have been upset a year ago when we had broken up, but this morning, my unholy
amusement at the thought of him having to spend his life with Sheetal as his
wife actually made up for it.
