Saturday morning, early 2010. The tequila was still in my head. I went back anyway. Weekends were hers. He sat with a book as if that made the waiting decent. I dressed for the sofa I was not going to mention: shirt with nothing under it, skirt doing the talking, damp ponytail, mascara, the cheap blue on the lid.
Balcony. History of South India he was not reading. I took the other chair, crossed my knee, lit up, dropped the pack between us.
“Softie, huh?”
He shut the book. “How many a day.”
“Tense days I could finish ten packs. Quiet days, two. Why. You writing a paper?”
He looked at my eyes, then at the shirt.
“Mom never buy you bras.”
“Why’s she gotta. I grab my own. Last week Venki turns up with a box of Victoria’s Secret, sized like he’d taken notes. I sat there and tried every piece till he fucked off.”
I did not add the rest. He had dressed her in the same shop. The joke was already wearing her.
He did not bite.
“You want to know why I look like this. Class later. Lecturer gets a whole personality when I tease. Thought I’d give him something to choke on.”
I let my eyes go to his lap.
“Wanna see?” he said, dry.
“Know you too well, asshole.” I killed the cigarette under the heel. “Hungry. Buy me food.”
“Mom’ll look for you.”
“Fridge’s got bananas. She’ll live. Move.”
Bike. Munirka. Burgers. Coffee. The speed I liked.
“Any day you’d make a killer boyfriend.”
Then, light enough to pass for chat:
“Mom asked where I was last night. I said upstairs with you. All night. She pushed. I said yes.”
He swallowed. “Okay.”
“Party tonight. Come. I won’t fuck with you. I’ll limit the booze. I’ll play nice. Sorry for last night.”
“You remember what happened.”
“Not at first. Hit me in the shower, full blast. Don’t wanna talk it. Might get horny again.”
He stared. “Don’t mess around. You know how many college guys chase you? Even in this building.”
He sat me down when I stood.
“How old are you.”
“Saw last night, didn’t you?”
“Not your body. Your head. You’re not old enough.”
“Not marrying you. Chill.”
“Fuck off, Sindhu.”
“Motherfucker.” I grinned when he flinched. “Said I’d tell Mom you raped me last night. What’s your move then?”
He almost smiled. “Dream on. You think she’d buy that from you? She’d trust me. Wanna test it?”
“Fine. Coming or not.”
He laid out the law. Dress proper. Bra and panties. When he said stop on the drink, stop. And not one fuck me slipping out like a joke that wanted a room.
Evening I went back in the red tube, more paint, and tugged the neckline.
“See? Bra, panties. Wanna check?”
“Least shave your arms.”
I used his bathroom because I needed him at the party more than I needed the last word.
The birthday was not a jungle. The drink still won. He got me home. She was outside, as if the house had heard the gate.
They do not use that room when I am in the house. That is the rule I have watched without being told. Doors stay ordinary. Lights stay ordinary. She takes him when I am a problem that has already gone to sleep in another city, or at least in another bed. Tonight she received me drunk. I made a show of the stairs. Shoes. The laugh that comes too late. She looked at me the way you look at a bottle that has already been finished. There was no way, she decided, that this girl would get up again. That decision was the lock they took off. I put my things down and did not sleep. I knew the hour she climbs. The pane I had forced days ago was still a gap. A gap in the dark is only a rumour. If they had kept the room black I would have had breath and cloth and nothing I could swear to. They put the light on because I had already been filed under gone. I lay there long enough for the tequila to look real. Then her door moved and I went to the glass. Later I told myself the acting had done it. The slurring, the weight on his shoulder, the girl who could not possibly stand at a window. I had given them permission to see each other. They had given me the bulb. I did not like how neat that bargain was. I used it anyway.
I did not sleep. I knew the hour she climbs. The pane I had forced days ago was still a gap. When her door moved I went to it.
Black silk. Shop name on the strap. He lit one of my cigarettes. She took one. Legs across him. His hand on her calves like rent paid.
“Sindhu said you two are in love.”
“She knows about us.”
“She said she’d tell me you raped her.”
He laughed, small. Her face did not.
Mouth in her neck. Strap. She took his face and took the other room.
I stayed.
It was not the yellow-saree afternoon. That day he had finished and left her with the price. Tonight she finished him first, fast, then put her mouth on what was left until it was useful again. She rode until she had what the window had not given her. When his hands went to her chest she slapped them off and kept the work. I wanted to be the one who made her hurry. I wanted to be the one who made him wait. My hand found me in the dark and I came like someone stealing the ending.
She kissed him.
“Thought you were her boyfriend for a sec. That’s why.”
Then she slept with her leg over him.
Four in the morning I pinged him on the gmail chat.
“You, motherfucker.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
A wink. “Check your bedsheets.”
I stood at the glass. He gave me the finger.
“Fuck you.”
“I’m waiting.”
I ran.
Morning she was gone. I leaned on the bathroom wall while the water ran.
“Was good, huh. Watched it all. Should’ve recorded it. Internet’s dry of good shit.”
He did not look.
I stepped into the steam. He covered what he could.
“Masks on. Us two. Video?”
“Got sites if you need.”
I took his balls in my hand.
“Why not me, asshole.” A squeeze. “One day I’ll crush you. Watch.”
I let go.
“Don’t pull that again,” he said, as if calm were a lock.
I went downstairs with the jokes still in my mouth and the glass still in my eyes. The pub was still ahead. I thought I had used every door. I had only learned she could take a night back, and that watching it had not made me the lock. It had made me the girl on the wrong side of the pane, sending a line about a sheet.
