in the corner of my mummy's kitchen,
near a space where i regularly ditch my purse,
occupying a place that once welcomed my backpack when i was small and all of this was wayyy simpler
...sits a slightly bent gift bag.
the side where the bag's bottom was once folded up to make it flat is where the "dent" is; apparently i didn't unfurl it with enough force before stuffing it. my mom races past it as she enters her kitchen, ignoring it. her hands are full of curry leaves, chili peppers and red roses, newly chosen from her beloved garden. she looks like she is praying, or offering some deity this special bouquet. i amuse myself for a moment-- i have been noticing bridal bouquets recently, for blatantly obvious reasons. "there," i think. "THAT'S what i should carry. red roses with curry leaves instead of baby's breath or eucalyptus or the usual floral filler crap. and sure, why not throw a kandari in to represent how SPICY i am, white dress be damned."
my silliness dissipates when my eyes refocus on my final parent. mom has set everything down on the counter next to the sink, and she prepares the roses for immediate arranging. the precious fresh curry leaves and heat will be tended to later. she did not notice me watching her, marvelling at her hands full of real wealth, she did not know that she was reminding me of a favourite diego rivera painting. she did not hear the rustle of the tissue paper a few minutes ago, when it moved slightly from the wind created by her skirt.
the paper that moved remained inside the gift bag, pretty, transluscent tree juice flattened so that i could crumple it around a tiny pinafore, with a matching blouse and the most precious bottoms, the bottoms all baby girls should wear, the kind with ruffles all over, that peek when someone crawls. a beautiful birthday present, for a beautiful baby. a baby, with a birthday that has passed.
a baby whom i will not see.
a baby whom i love, from a mother i love even more.
a baby born in to a tragedy.
a baby i sometimes, in my darker moments, regret, though i love her with all my heart.
+ + +
i met jessica when i was just a girl, a girl in sundresses, a girl in flat sandals, a girl who loved lollipops and stickers and hello kitty and chocolate. j was just slightly older than me, and i didn't care for her at first. that alone should have told me that we were destined to become soulmates.
i tried red kool-aid for the first time at j's house. you remember it. "red" was actually a flavour.
she tried to teach me how to rollerskate (i ended up on my back after she foolishly took me down a handicap-ramp, and then i refused to skate unless it was "on the grass").
we told each other secrets. we were silly together. we were super-close friends. only i knew how mean her mom actually was, and i remember feeling an awkward sort of pity for her, for that. only she understood exactly how conflicted my relationship with my daddy was. and she was the only one to never judge, take sides or make *me* feel awkward. i loved her for that. i'm not easy to understand, but if you "get me", my gratitude manifests as this fierce sort of love. j owned a huge chunk of that, from way back. that legendary loyalty is part of the reason she is no longer in my life. if i loved her less, things would be ridiculously different. but i don't love her less, and that's why it's all so fucking difficult.
j.
j made davis bearable. j made french class compulsory. j made my life better, just by her sweet, yielding, unconditional, loyal presence. when delta gamma didn't offer j a bid, my titanium loyalty (to my house) faltered a bit; could i be sisters with such heartless bitches??? j soothed away my inner-conflict and made it all okay again, in her inimitable way. that's why she was the closest thing i had to an akka, an older sister. she understood that entire dynamic within our culture. no, we weren't related by blood, but so what. she was my elder and i looked up to her, just as much as she looked after me.
j and i looked nothing alike, though we had similar backgrounds, both coming from the south. she had fair, fair, ghostly pale skin and thick black hair that made me look like i was balding. she also had a rack i'd kill for...but i was never really jealous of her, b/c we both agreed that we were each blessed, just differently. i had prettier eyes (mine are bigger) with fantastic eyelashes, and a better metabolism. cheerleader-in-h.s. j started to gain weight as we inched towards the end at davis. "it's because i'm shorter than you!", she'd exclaim. "there's more area for the chocolate to spread out on YOU."
j and i were like two humans cast in the same mold. it was scary-spooky how things that happened to her happened to me within a year or so. after a while, it was just tragic and horrifying. j's life decayed as we were ending college. she still loved me though, and when the tenth thing that happened to her, happened to me...she wrenched herself out of my life, illogically and superstitiously thinking that her absence would protect me from her fate. it didn't. i suffered too, and i suffered alone, w/o my j to make it all okay.
i found her and confronted her and i tried to force her to promise that never again, never again would she leave me like that. j's eyes had circles under them. her mouth was turned down in an almost-permanent frown. her skin did not glow. she didn't answer me. she didn't promise me shit.
somehow, she picked herself up from her awful place. she got promoted at work, and then promoted again. the next thing i knew, we were both moving. me to the bay area, her to nyc. i was thrilled for her; she LOVED the city as much as i do, and i promised to visit her whenever i could. j flourished in ny like a neglected plant that had been suddenly pushed in to sunlight with a double-shot of osmocote. what a glamorous life she had, living in the city's best hotels, strutting about downtown manhattan in her tahari suits and her cole-haan heels. "you'll love it here, anna, i just know it." of course i would, j. especially if you were there. "wait 'til you visit, i'm taking you to the armani outlet in jersey and THEN we're going to this ridiculous place in ny for coach bags." somehow, despite working typical nyc-hours at her job with a multi-national powerhouse, j found the time to send me hand-written notes, complete with sealing wax on the back of the envelope...red wax, purple wax, gold wax...melted meticulously, each with her initial "J" gloriously emblazoned in the center. i loved checking the mail, if it meant letters THAT elegant.
in 1998, j was away when i lost my daddy and she never forgave herself for it. my father loved j. aside from eileen, whom i wasn't as close to during college, he didn't approve of any of my friends.
except for j. "she is such a good girl. so respectful. so thoughtful. polite. the kind of girl you SHOULD be friends with, edi." only j could call my house and get through to ME. everyone else somehow fucked up while they were greeting my dad; "learn etiquette, then call back!" um, daddy...hanging up on them isn't "etiquette" either.
"so vat?! they call for you, saying this bullshit 'hey. is anarkali there?' vith no 'hi', no 'mr. _____, may i please speak to-', no 'this is ____, calling'...vy should i put up vith that? this is MY house. either they ask for you properly or they can go fuck themselves. this is MY phone. call like a polite person or DON'T CALL AT ALL!"
sigh.
i'm shaking my head at THAT memory.
anyway, with all of those hurdles to cross, j never stumbled once. "i don't know how you do that," i'd say to her, once the elusive cordless had been thrust at me. j would laugh and say, "it's not that difficult. just act like you weren't raised by wolves and he's actually quite nice. for example, did you know that i called at 7:30?"
"whaaaat? it's 7:45!"
"exactly. he and i had quite a discussion, about you, obviously. he told me to tell you to quit cutting your hair, b/c you look terrible with it short. and then he asked me about your presentation."
"he didn't even ask ME about that. what the fuck?"
"you know how he is...anyway, he went on and ON about how you were such a fantastic public speaker, and how you were obviously a genius since you sprang fully-formed from his thigh and whatnot, and so it was only logical that you aced it."
"i can't believe you talked to him for 15 minutes. you are amazing. i don' t think anyone else would put up with him for THAT long."
"it's not putting up-- it's just listening, and treating him with respect."
"bah. wouldn't work if i tried it. he only responds when attacked with his own profanity-laced venom."
"oh anna...you are incorrigible."
+ + +
j was transferred back to the SF office of her firm in 1999. she REALLY felt like my akka then, as i visited her in her corner office with its pristine view of the bay bridge and ferry building. whenever i was in the city, i'd pop in even if it was just to check my email on her fatty, big-monitored computer. she'd always schlep me around to various cubicles, too. "this is ANNA. i'm always talking about her...and here she is!" and then various middle-aged women and men would exclaim that they'd heard so much about me before we took our leave.
"are you hungry?" was more of a statement than a question. she'd forever shtuff me at the embarcadero: gaylord's indian food, with cinnabun chasers. but she was a big sis to all of me, not just my tummy. when my favourite lip gloss was discontinued, j spent hours after work going from random boutique to random salon to random store, having researched and called ahead during the day. in time, she wordlessly presented me with seven pewter boxes, each bearing a coveted black dahlia. with the final one, she looked at me sympathetically and said, "that's it. you have san francisco's ENTIRE stock of that colour. enjoy."
a few months later, i was accepted at GW for grad school. after a final, tear-marinated lunch at Gaylord's, i went back with her, to her office. instead of staying with her view like a good girl, she followed me in to the hushed elevators that whooshed me down to the granite lobby. she couldn't stop crying. i shook my head at her, for seeing me out when she had work to do, but i made the best of a sentimental situation when i noticed a security guard, and handed him my camera.
there's a picture of us, in front of a gorgeous painting. she's in her flawlessly-tailored black suit, i'm wearing espresso-coloured leather jeans and a mohair sleeveless sweater, with heels that enable me to tower over her. j's eyes are swollen and our heads are tilted towards each other, arms around each other's waists. she looks so sad...and i look so peaceful. i remember being excited about my upcoming adventure, after months of dad-related sadness. i also remember feeling something touch my upper thigh, but i didn't pay attention to it until the guard was done returning my camera. it was all a total blur. i reached in to my pocket, and unearthed three hundred-dollar bills, neatly folded in advance for such sneakiness.
"WHAT is THIS???" i blurted.
j straightened up to her full height, which in heels was all of 5'6. she gazed at me with one of those "don't fuck with me" looks she used SO sparingly, b/c they always destroyed me.
"that is money that you are to use to buy your books with...i wanted to give you more, but it's been a really expensive month."
"you are taking this back, RIGHT NOW gf."
and i started to push it towards her but she fixed me with the "look" and put up one fair palm. "no." she had never been so firm with me..."i'd pay for it all if i could...but you picked one of the most expensive schools on the east coast, so i can't. please, take it. it would mean a lot to me to know that i did it. and it's not like i'll get to feed you once you're out there..."
now MY eyes were watering, hell, they're watering right now, as i type this. she saw her opening and took it. palm closed around benjamin-crumpling fist, slowly but deliberately. then it moved aforementioned benjamins and fist to my always open purse, as it pried open my fingers until the green pieces of love fluttered safely to the bottom. she zipped the top. "don't run around like this on the east coast. they're not as forgiving of such reckless behaviour, so keep the purse closed." i threw my arms around her and wept. "i'm going to miss you..."
she rubbed my back and gently pushed me away. "we'll see each other soon. you're coming home for thanksgiving, i'm sure of it."
i didn't come home for thanksgiving. i did come home for the first christmas without my father. j wanted to pick me up at the airport, but she was swamped with end-of-the-year action items. "oh, i'd give ANYTHING to see you," she moaned in to her mobile. "i'll see you before you know it," i replied, not realising how prescient, how tragic my words would be...
to be continued, when a different phone call will change everything, forever.