Chapter 25 #2
We went to Coonoor town and chatted up a few people.
We tossed the ‘Velu’ name around and then the ‘Brown’ question but were met with blank looks.
On our way back, we stopped at a café that sat on a hillock.
It was like we were seated at the edge of this fabulous landscape and some 30–40 metres away, you could see the mighty Nilgiris drop in a majestic sweep.
My fingers bit into Andrew’s forearm. A gust of wind could blow our seats, and with us on it, into those endless woods. His palm was on my fingers. He was looking at me, telling me we were fine and that it was only a matter of time before I got used to our setting.
The coffee was great and the view, as terrifying as my thoughts were, was even better.
A couple seated at the table next to ours ordered walnut and blueberry waffles. We pointed at their order and told the waiter we wanted the same along with another round of coffee.
‘Would you have told me about Meena had I not brought it up?’
I have no idea why I had brought up Meena, but it seemed like she was never far from my thoughts when I was around Andrew.
Andrew shook his head. ‘I have no clear answer on that,’ he said.
My eyes met his.
‘If you were single, I would definitely have told you. But you are almost engaged to Ravi Rao… I’m not sure.’
I nodded.
‘I don’t think I would’ve mentioned anything if you and Meena were still close.’
He was moving his hands as he spoke, trying to define close perhaps.
‘I wouldn’t have wanted to ruin a friendship. I had already ruined what we had.’
Thoughtful. Was it considerate? Another adjective?
‘I was not thinking then, Myraah.’ Andrew’s hand was on my shoulder. ‘I was alone…’
I nodded. He had consistently tossed the word ‘alone’ at me. As if it were a frisbee I was meant to catch in a flying disc game we were playing on some sunny beach.
A gust of wind washed over us, my tee rode up and my hair swept across my face. Andrew’s hands were on me, pulling down my tee and straightening my hair.
‘For my mother, I would’ve done anything, given everything. I loved her beyond reason, Andrew.’ My curls were in my mouth.
Andrew’s eyes clouded. After what seemed like an eternity, he said, ‘That’s what you felt for me…’ He was nodding, his eyes hollow.
I looked out at the scenery. The words that were going through my mind were deep, thick, intense and dark. Words that finished like the strokes of a brush.
Andrew was on his phone, and then suddenly, his eyes were on me.
‘Did you know he was contesting?’
I didn’t respond to the question, not because the answer was no but because I didn’t want to let him in on the status of that relationship. It was not his business.
That was the moment the waffles arrived. They were smelling of a world beyond the skies, a sweet paradise maybe.
Suddenly, Andrew was on his feet, his hands clutching my wrist. I turned, and before us was this big house. From where we were standing, it appeared to be sprawled out across the lawns.
Andrew was walking, and I followed him.
The server started walking with us. He was worried that we were going to complain about the order that had taken some time to come.
He was explaining to Andrew that it was a homestay and that the café was attached to it and that sometimes, orders got delayed when all the rooms in the house were taken up, like now.
Andrew told the waiter he was only interested in the house. We had no problem with the service.
The man nodded, but he wasn’t sure.
‘Who are the owners?’
‘Raju from Bengaluru.’
One side of the house was lined with french windows, giving it a period silhouette.
The manicured lawn was edged with marigolds. Both of us noticed the flowers at the same time. Andrew’s hand clutched mine so tightly that I thought he might crush it.
As we walked up the walkway towards the tastefully enclosed porch, I noticed that on the rear wall was a line of pictures. Most of them were wedding pictures, and all of them were black and white.
Andrew’s hand was around my shoulder as he steered me back to our table.
‘That’s another thing; we don’t have any pictures.’
‘Your mother’s?’
Andrew shook his head. Noelene didn’t have a picture of her only child?
It’s like the Browns wanted no record of their existence.
Andrew paid for the coffees and the untouched waffles, and we walked back to our cottage wordlessly.
We had skipped the dinner Andrew had prepaid for and drank from the bottles we had smuggled into the room.
‘Where did you stay when you came here as a child?’ I asked.
‘At a house; it was huge.’
‘Whose place was it?’
He shrugged.
I wanted to ask if it had a lawn edged with marigolds.
‘It had a garden with marigolds.’ With that, he shut his eyes and let the tears flow.
Andrew was in my room to drop off my bags; he didn’t knock.
His hands were full with his backpack and duffle bag. His biceps strained against the weight he was carrying. These were arms that knew load.
The lighting in the room was annoyingly dim, and the acacia-wood furniture merged into the backcloth. I realized then that he’d taken off his hoodie.
I was by the door. The image of that house we had walked into uninvited kept coming back to me. I wanted to tell Andrew we should’ve hung around the place, waited a little.
He dropped the bags and turned to me. I took a step towards him.
Somewhere in that movement, I lost that imposing piece of real estate that had occupied my thoughts.
I inhaled Andrew’s scent, a zesty olfactory sensation.
His left hand took my right, and his lips full brushed against mine. They were rough, like my breathing.
I felt him and he felt me.
Our tongues explored in turn, revelling in comforting tastes, cigarettes and citrus, his joy and my keep-me-awake chewing gum. He was giving, I was taking. We stilled suddenly, but our bodies hummed, telling each other things that words couldn’t quite articulate.
A boy. A girl. Heat.
I felt a smile warm my cheeks. However the day had panned, this is how it was supposed to end. I’m not sure if that was a thought or if that’s what I was telling myself. Maybe it was both.
My nails dug into his warm palms.
I exhaled, Andrew inhaled. In sync, like ballroom dancers. Eyes locked, smoking fire. We repeated the exercise, revelling in the notes our bodies hit.
My eyes toured the length of his arms before returning to his full lips.
‘Your skin,’ he said, ‘smoother than single malt.’
I laughed.
A half-smile flashed across his face. Those lips were meant for kissing.
My heart was racing. Ferrari engine.
Andrew drew me to his full height. He was carrying me, my legs were locked around his waist, and I wriggled my way into him, nearer, closing the non-existent gap between us.
I heard a cry. Was it me?
My nervous fingers stroked his jawline; my tongue was discovering flavours. I heard a moan. I love the sounds he makes.
Andrew was swaying to an inner beat, maybe, and I was being rocked from side to side. My hand was in his tee, and my mouth shifted to his clavicle. I took a bite of the bone before leaving a trail of love bites. A bright blush against his pale skin.
He groaned.
I kissed his neck.
Andrew’s right hand was deep inside my denims; he was stroking me. I squealed. Andrew put me down gently.
‘I’m going crazy,’ he said. I thought it was me.
I worked off his jeans, tossed them aside and knelt before him, taking him in my mouth. I stroked him with my tongue, long, slow strokes, a playful brush of the glans.
A shiver ran through Andrew. I felt it; he shook. His fingers were in my hair. Tangled. He tugged, I hurt.
‘Myraaahhhh.’ It had been ages since I had heard him call out to me that way. A cry that came from deep within him.
I intensified the stroking; my fingers roamed his rump, then kneaded his quadriceps.
‘Aaahhh,’ he shouted and pushed my arms aside. Andrew joined me on the carpet; he was kneeling before me.
He rolled off my tee. The lacy ombre bralette followed.
Andrew’s eyes were bright; it was a light I hadn’t seen before.
He let the back of his hands brush my breast. My nipples were so hard they hurt.
I wanted Andrew, and I could see he wanted me.
We were back on our feet again. Andrew eased off my jeans. I rolled my head. I was caught in a hypnotic spell of scent and heat. I went down on my knees and took him in my mouth again.
‘Myraaahhhh,’ he shouted. I mewled. This was crazy ridiculous.
He flooded my mouth, and I swallowed before collapsing on my back… Andrew was on me, covering me like a blanket.
I lay on his denims, and his phone poked my shoulder. I tried to move his trousers away unsuccessfully.
‘What?’ he asked, smiling into my eyes. I pointed at his jeans.
Andrew tossed them aside.
Andrew’s phone fell on the carpeted floor. It had opened to an Instagram page, which had a picture of Meena and Ravi.
My eyes stayed on the phone screen, just to confirm what I had seen.
Andrew was on his feet, and I joined him.
‘This has nothing to do with that,’ he said, bending to pick up his phone. ‘I saw this just now, an hour ago maybe, when we were at the café.’
I nodded.
I knew just when he had seen it; it was in his expression.
‘I wanted to show it to you right then, but that’s when I saw the house.’
I hadn’t told him I had broken up with Ravi.
Andrew probably sensed it at that very juncture, that same evening, but he hadn’t brought it up. In our profession, the deity was in the details, but when it was personal, Andrew tread lightly. It suited him.
‘I knew this,’ I said, pointing to his phone. ‘I saw them together.’ I moved my head dramatically. We were on the sofa, not a stitch of clothing on either of us.
‘I am okay,’ I said, turning to face him.
He nodded. Andrew didn’t need me to say it.
‘He didn’t need much time,’ I said, laughing.
‘And neither did you, Rai.’ His thumb was stroking my cheek. I could still taste him.
We had brought a couple of bottles with us. I had asked for Chardonnay. I was suddenly only drinking white wine.