5And here I was waiting for a sob story that would not even earn a farthing on stage. My source of grief was Annabella. In short Anna, my eldest sister. Elder by two years actually. And I am Ann. Just Ann. Three lettered Ann. Not a letter more not a letter less.
The story behind my three lettered name is my parents were tired when I was born. It was a long labor. So when my father filled out the form, he started with name of the daughter he had. He reached the third letter and decided that I would have to make do with the three letters he had entered. He was desperate for sleep and his palm was aching. My mom has strongest hands I have ever seen. Which could be the reason why there were no children after me. My father was seriously afraid for his hand. I know I am rambling. I need caffeine. My sister's face was crumpling. Double shot of caffeine.
I love sitting in the balcony of this expensive cafe called "Melician Cafe". The place is built on a stepped balcony that forms a semicircle of railing around the forest below. A green forest so thick that it looks like a large emerald stone. The whole place is surrounded by tall mountains. In the center of the semicircle at the top is the kitchen and serving area. One piece of advice though. Unless you are danger junkie stay at least five feet away from that man-eating railing.
It is just a pleasure to be in midst of so much natural beauty. But for me the pleasure is personal. There are many beautiful memories associated with this cafe. It was and is my mom's favorite place. And my father brought us here on every occasion. The hotel then was not that expensive. It was not called a cafe either. It was just a place where you could get good food and which you could enjoy under sky in any weather except rain. There is no snow where I live.
Melicia Bay. That is the name of the place where I live. Population hundred and twenty or twenty one. The one is for the extra baby, if the lady on the second street over has given birth to the twins. My parents came here on their honey moon, made this their home and have lived here happily for last twenty five years of their married life. When we were both born here, my mom had wanted to move out to give us better education. But my father insisted on local one and I am grateful for that. I have no regrets. And nor does my sister. I love this place with all my heart.
The crime here is so low that most of the police can and do work another job. There is no need for locked doors. There are no intruders except those pesky little deer and some small animals. In general it is a great place to live. The whole place is a speck on the map, even though it's very real. Very much there.
I could hear the gentle lap of sea and shrieking sea gulls. You can't escape sound of sea on this island. It is like a lullaby except when the weather turns nasty and waves scare you senseless. But today the weather was fine and sun was shinning brightly. The gentle breeze was caressing my skin and first light of sun was warming my cheek when I was brought out of my reverie. There it was - the first sob. okay fine. Not a sob but a sniff. A very delicate sniff.
Anna never sobs. She cries daintily and then pats her eyes with lace trimmed hand kerchief. And even then, she's busy making sure that no one is looking at her. Like crying is a crime. The girl could have fit in nicely in a century before us. She is a gentle girl – very mild mannered. One who is wanted and loved by everyone. One who is the pride and joy of their parents. The one they like to advertise to outside world. See what we have spawned - an angel.
Yes. Anna was an angel. But like all sweet tempered girls, she had a hidden temper. And to my utter misfortune, there were all the indicators that something or someone had made her angry and I was the one to witness her change into a flame spewing, smoke billowing virago. I had to tread delicately to get to the bottom of this without pushing her over the edge. And for that I needed to have my wits together.
"I don't want to marry him, Ann."
Even that was said in a tone that could be taken for an apology. A soft sweet even tone that could soothe and put you to sleep. I practically snatched the coffee cup from the waiter. What was she sorry for?
"Huh." I asked vehemently injecting as much venom as I could in that one syllable. I took a hasty gulp of java to clear the fog from my sleep deprived brain. Didn't she remember that when she spent my father's fortune on her engagement party. And what a fairy-tale inspired engagement party it was. My parents had gone ballistic - outdoing everything they had done before. And if you know my mom you would agree with me. I mean the lady has practically invented the word theme party. Her parties are legendary. And to their utter gratification, their darling Anna had looked like a true Disney princess. And I had looked like an awkward child standing next to her in that sophisticated blue dress meant for sexy women.
"He is so quiet."
Gavin, my would-be brother-in-law, reminds me of a lamb. Ba -Baaaaa. But not quite. No he is not quite a lamb. He is just shy. And how do I know this? He works at the same place I do. He is in true sense happy-go-lucky man. He's a sweet, even tempered man who loves to smile. And he is totally and absolutely crazily in love with my sister. So much so that his whole heart is like a plush oversized rug over which my sister can wipe her feet. My sister is sweet too. But as I said when riled up she can chew people up and spit them out. My gentle future brother-in-law is no match for her. I have yet to see him get angry. So now the whole match was looking like the tethering of a small poodle to a fire-breathing dragon.
Don't get me wrong. My brother-in-law hardly resembles a poodle. He is six feet tall, well built and looks safe. Not hot. Just safe. He is easy going, has handsome face, winsome smile. Very polite. And my sister is gorgeous. She is a stunner. With blue eyes, honey blond hair and a tall, lean body, she can give any super model run for their money. And they make good looking couple. But...
"Right"
I nodded like a puppet. As I said, my sister is looking for an outlet for her frustration and she rightly thinks I should be the one to give her. I have way with words. And I am easy to get angry, but unfortunately I am not at my best in the morning. I love peace in the morning. Besides I have decided to use my wit here. You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. Huh. Java time.
I looked at my sister who was fumbling with her purse. I knew what was coming next and was not disappointed. Cigratte case. My sister is a chain smoker. The only bad habit that she has and can't seem to give up.
"You know Anna. I may not know Channel from Canal. But if you smoke, the smell will remain on your clothes."
The black dress that she was wearing may look casual to an inexperienced eyes, but everything she wears is designer. And today was not an exception. And how do I know this? I love clothes. I am crazy about them. So why am I wearing these ridiculous unfashionable blue jeans and yellow T-shirt? Because I can't afford those gorgeous pieces of clothing. But how can she? Well my parents are rich. But I am not. I am independent sort. I have always craved freedom. I live separately and earn my own living. I don't take farthing from my father. Seriously, not a single penny.
Fine. I fought with my father when he decided to ground me for coming home late from a party. I was cocky seventeen year old. I was addicted to freedom and I hate being shouted at. The next thing I know, the other half of my brain – the cocky half had decided to take over and I was out of the house and earning my first pay check. Least you think this is all glamorous, let me tell you it is not what it's cracked up to be. I was ready to chuck it all and come back home with my tail between my legs, when I over heard my father predicting the very outcome. Another piece of advice. Never eaves drop. You never hear good or useful things about yourself. And since that day, I have never accepted a cent from him. Well, taking a few bucks here and there from mom is not the same.
"I smoke because I am unhappy."
Liar. You smoke because you want to suppress your hunger pangs. I am thin. Okay paper thin. And she was always, to put it mildly, big. She is thin now and it was all pure exercise and proper diet. Yet she has this fear of getting fat and it lingers in her eyes. This could be the only reason why I want this match for her. Though clue-less bloke that he is, Gavin truly loves her and will continue to do so through thick and thin. And in her heart I know she appreciates him for this. So where is the hitch? Isn't it the reason why I have been sitting in the cafe since five in the morning? To know the cause of her pain. I took a large bite of my sandwich. My sister shuddered at this. Girls should always eat like they are hens. My mom's words not mine. But I was hungry and the cafe was empty save us.
She sighed which meant she was tired and would not fight. The cigarette dropped back into the purse. What did I say? You need to handle her with wit. Besides I hate people who smoke and once started my chain smoking sister resembles a chimney pot. There is no stopping her.
"Why?", I asked her gently, like a mother to a child. Anything to keep her mind off that lung busting weapon. Having done my duty to get her engine revved up, I decided to complete my beauty sleep. Hey, I am not a morning person remember. Sleeping with your eyes open without letting others know is a pure art. And this I have learnt from the best. The trick is to keep nodding occasionally.
"He is always late. He is never at home during week-ends. He watches sports. He never talks. He is always with..."
And you hog the bed. The best part about arranged marriage is you never know what is coming next. You are always in for surprises. Some good and some bad. But you are never bored. After fifteen minutes or so I realized there would be no sleep. The sun was directly on my face. I looked at my sister who was still flapping her mouth. The words were gushing out of her mouth like a torrent which looked like, if I was not careful, capable of submerging me. I looked around her sentences, like an expert angler trying to hook the source of her unhappiness.
"He never kisses me."
Aha. The source of her unhappiness and, through her, mine. I looked around fishing for some more food. And this was after I had gulped down one sandwich, some fruit and some snacks. I am nineteen and I am growing. My sister pushed her plate towards me. She was tired of toying with her food.
"Stop threatening him. You need to let him come near you. Try acting like a bride. He will change."
Now I seriously don't know which one of these words was the magic word. But for the first time in my life I had hit the nail in first go. The change in her was so sudden that even I blinked. There was hope in her eyes. And soft blush in her cheeks. Holy cow! She was in love with that man. So all that yapping was for what. For a kiss? Well folks. Don't be fooled by this. I mean she is in love. But getting a kiss from a man who becomes a klutz every time a woman passes him is even more difficult than getting a kiss from bashful maiden.
"All I want from him is to take me in his arm and kiss me."
This was truly serious. I tried picturing that in my mind. My sister standing demurely while he with his confident stride sweeping her in his one arm and kissing her senseless. There was just one problem with that picture. My sister could play the demure maiden…but that man? That was another story. Ba-Baaaaaaaaa.
"When it's your turn to marry, see to it that you get some kisses first. Demand them."
Poor girl. She was dying for few kisses and hugs. A few breathless night under sky and some heat in the sheets. And that man was treating her like a goddess. Adoration is not bad. Who would not give anything for adoration? But passion? Well people kill for it. Who knows it better than I, who has seen many crimes done in its name? And how do I know this?
I am a cop. Okay a rookie cop. Fine. I work as a clerk at a police station that keeps hundred or so population of this island safe. And I have been working in that small hovel for past three years. My first and hopefully not the last job.
So what was I doing at this god damn unearthly hour with my sister in a café? The truth is I am totally and utterly flat broke. And I wanted a decent breakfast that would keep my stomach from rumbling till lunch time. And I love food. So sue me.
My job may have provided me with my own place and the freedom that goes with it, but it doesn't provide me with much else. I have a bicycle that ride, but I need to get it fixed so that I can stop walking to work. I am also a part time student learning law and though my needs are small. Don't laugh! It's not easy when you are on your own, living on a meager salary and few bucks that mom slips you now and then. I can't afford to miss an opportunity like this for free food.
So here I was happy and content with a full stomach and glowing with pleasure at having solved the mystery, when the father of my child walked in with another woman.