Of Smokeless Fire A.A. Jafri (books to read to improve english TXT) 📖

Twenty-Five

After Mansoor returned to Iowa, he threw himself into his studies, spending most of his time in the library, away from all distractions. Only one thing troubled his mind—how to finish his doctoral course work, return home and kick his aunt’s family out of his house, especially that scheming, treacherous blackmailer of a cousin. He owed that much to his father. Mansoor’s only comfort and joy in Iowa was Lisa, who melted in his arms the minute she saw him. He realized how desperately he had missed her.

Bit by bit, he revealed his family saga to her, telling her about the real reason he had gone to Pakistan, his parents’ contradictory tensions, their failed marriage and his father’s death. As far as his relationship with Mehrun was concerned, she and Lisa remained non-existent to each other. Whenever the guilt of concealing their respective identities pestered him, he took a deep breath and shrugged it off. As long as their existence did not become a self-evident certainty, he decided he would remain quiet.

Lisa would sit there on the steps outside the library as Mansoor talked, listening attentively to his complicated family intrigues, a little confused by the undercurrents, but empathetic. She did not fully understand what he meant, but she saw the pain; she knew the stress; her own parents had recently gone through a messy divorce.

‘Why didn’t they get divorced?’ Lisa asked.

‘Divorce, in my culture . . .’ Mansoor searched for the right word, and then continued, ‘I don’t know . . . it’s . . . umm . . . complicated.’

‘Divorce is complicated in any culture, Mansoor,’ she replied.

‘I guess . . .’

‘After being married for forty years, my father dropped the bombshell on my mother. He told her that he wanted to get out of the marriage,’ she said.

‘Just like that?’ Mansoor asked.

‘Yeah, just like that. It happened just like that, out of the blue, on one absolutely ordinary day. Forty years and four children did not count for anything when it came right down to it. My dad just got bored with his life and with my mother.’

Lisa’s mother, Sandra, had sacrificed her own ambitions so that she could marry the man she loved. Working two jobs to support him through graduate school, taking care of four young children all by herself when he was busy travelling for his firm, and then, forty years later, she had suddenly become too tiresome. In his sixty-second year of life, he realized that he did not love her any more. Living with her for the remainder of his life seemed like a burden of Sisyphean proportions; he wanted to reinvent himself.

So, when Mansoor talked about the strain between his own parents, Lisa knew exactly what he had gone through, but for his sake, she remained strong. She consoled him, comforted him and hurt with him. But back in her apartment, she let open the floodgates of emotions and cried like she had never cried before over how unfair life was.

*

That night, when Mansoor returned home after dropping Lisa off, he received a long-distance call from Mehrun. The repressed guilt returned unbidden. After the initial round of perfunctory conversation, Mehrun told him about the photographs that her husband had received.

‘You too, huh? Do you know who sent it?’ Mansoor asked.

‘No, that is the mystery,’ she replied.

‘Well, it’s from Athanni. He slipped an envelope with the two pictures into my hand at the airport, on the day of my departure. I think he was spying on us.’

‘Athanni? I can’t believe it!’ Mehrun exclaimed. ‘Did he say anything when he gave it to you?’

‘No, he didn’t. But there was a message on the back of one of the photographs, warning me that there was more to come. I bet he is planning something nasty.’

‘Ameer Sahib was furious and said that he would kill the person who sent these if he ever found out his identity.’

‘Let’s keep quiet until Athanni makes his next move. You know, Mehrun, the most stupid thing I did was to invite his family to stay with my mother at the Kashana.’

‘Why did you do that?’

‘I don’t know, I . . . I didn’t want Amma to stay there all alone.’

‘You shouldn’t have done that. They’ll never leave now.’

‘I’ll kick them out when I go back.’

‘Mansoor Babu, that won’t be easy.’

‘We’ll see . . .’

They talked for a bit longer about everyday things—his apartment, her friends and then Joseph’s plan to buy the Burger King franchise and to have it’s inauguration on New Year’s Day, the perfect day to symbolically cut all his ties from his past. He had invited both Mehrun and Mansoor to the opening.

‘Well, maybe I’ll see you at the opening then?’ Mansoor asked.

‘I don’t know, Mansoor, whether I’ll be able to come or not. Ameer Sahib is being transferred to London to set up a new head office there . . . the timing might conflict.’

‘So, how is he?’

‘The same. He has asked me to keep a low profile. He doesn’t want me to blemish his career.’ She paused for a moment and then abruptly said, ‘Well, I better hang up; he may be trying to call.’

Their night together at the Palace Hotel didn’t come up even once in the entire conversation.

*

Mansoor felt a sense of insufficiency after his chat with Mehrun, like something crucial had been left unsaid, something unacknowledged. But did he really want to talk to her about that night at the Palace Hotel?

Standing near the living-room window, Mansoor gazed at the starry sky and thought about Mehrun and Lisa. Had he cheated on Lisa? And what about Mehrun? Had she seduced him? He didn’t want to inflict pain on either of them. To keep quiet was probably the best choice, at least for now. Perhaps he would tell Lisa about Mehrun’s existence at some point.

For now, he had to concentrate on finishing up in Iowa and hurrying back home. Athanni and the certainty of a