Cutting For Stone Part 27

CHAPTER 34.

A Time to Reap

THE MADNESS OF THAT EVENING came at a most inopportune time. It was my last year at LT&C and I was h.e.l.l-bent on doing well in the school finals. My motivation was simple: a magnificent, ivory-colored hospital, five times as large as Missing, had been built on a rise looking down at Churchill Road and the post office and the Lycee Franais. It was to be the teaching hospital of a new medi cal school to be staffed with the help of the British Council, Swiss aid, and USAID. The teachers were distinguished physicians from these countries who had recently retired from long academic careers and ac cepted short a.s.signments to Addis.

So while Rosina went after Genet, hauling the magazines and textbooks Genet had dropped, and certain to continue her fight, I wasted no time. I went inside, washed up, and then spread my books out on the dining table. Hema and Ghosh were playing bridge with a few others at Ghosh's old bungalow.

I ate as I studied. Every minute counted, as far as I was concerned. Id mapped out how many days and hours and minutes remained before the school-leaving exam. If I wanted to sleep, play cricket, and get into medical school, I had no time to waste.

Genet arrived an hour later to study with me. I tried not to look up. Soon, Shiva joined us. Hed brought Jeffcoates Principles of Gynaecology to the table, and it bristled with bookmarks. Shiva didn't read books as much as he disa.s.sembled and digested them, made them appendages of his body.

For Genet and me to get into medical school we had to get top grades in the school finals. Genet professed to be just as enamored with medicine as I was, but she was often late joining me at the study table, and she packed it in earlier than I did. Sometimes she didn't come at all. On two weeknights I took a taxi to Mr. Mammen's house, for tuition in math and organic chemistry. Genet came once, bristled at Mammen's ironclad discipline, and wouldn't go back, while I found his help to be priceless. On weekends I retreated to Ghosh's old quarters to study, leaving Ghosh and Hema free to turn the radio on or entertain without worrying about disturbing me. Genet could have joined me at Ghosh's quarters, but she rarely did.

Shiva didn't have any of our worries. He'd been lobbying to drop out of school altogether. He wanted to function as Hema's a.s.sistant- degrees and diplomas did not matter to him. Hema was blunt: if he wanted to work with her, he'd have to finish his final year, even if he didn't take the exams. Meanwhile, on his own he was learning everything he could about obstetrics and gynecology. I overheard Hema tell Ghosh that Shiva knew more than the average final-year medical student when it came to obstetrics and gynecology.

Shiva had appropriated the toolshed where we'd hidden the motorcycle. He'd learned to weld from Farinachi, and he kept his torch and equipment in there. A month or so earlier, I'd stuck my head in the tool-shed and was surprised to see the back wall was visible, with no sign of the motorcycle, or the wood stacks, gunnysacks, and Bibles we'd used to conceal it.

"I took it apart," Shiva had said, when I asked. He pointed to the base of his heavy worktable-the square wooden plywood support concealed the engine block. The bike's frame he'd wrapped in oilcloth and tarp and buried under the table. The rest of the bike was stored in containers which ranged from matchboxes to stacked crates, neatly arranged on metal shelves he'd welded together.

"TELL ME ABOUT IT, Shiva," Genet whispered from behind her book, Chemistry by Concept. She'd lasted just ten minutes before breaking the silence and my concentration.

"Tell you about what?" Shiva said, not bothering to lower his voice.

"About your first time! What else? Why didn't you tell me before? I just heard from Marion that you're not a virgin."

Shiva's story, which I'd been too embarra.s.sed and envious to ask about myself, was stunning in its simplicity.

"I went to the Piazza. Down the side street next to the Ma.s.sawa Bakery, you know, where you see the rooms, one after the other? A woman in each doorway, different-colored lights?"

"How did you pick?"

"I didn't. I went to the first door. That was it," he said, smiling, and turning back to his work.

"No, it isn't it!" She s.n.a.t.c.hed his book away. "What happened next?"

I pretended to be annoyed, but every cell in my brain was attentive. I was glad that Genet was doing the questioning.

"I asked how much. She said thirty. I said I had only ten. She said okay. She took off her clothes and lay on the bed-"

" All her clothes?" I blurted out. Shiva looked at me, surprised.

"All but her blouse, which she pulled up."

"A bra? What was she wearing?" Genet wanted to know.

"A little sweater, I think. A half-sleeve thing. And a miniskirt. Bare legs and high heels. No underwear. No bra. She stepped out of her heels, dropped her skirt, lifted her blouse, and lay down."

"Oh, G.o.d! Go on," said Genet.

"I took all my clothes off. I was ready. I told her it was my first time. She said, 'G.o.d help us.' I said I didn't think we needed G.o.d. I got on top of her, she helped me start-"

"Did it hurt her? Were you ..."

"Erect. Yes. No, I don't think it hurt her. You know the v.a.g.i.n.a has walls that are expansible, they can accommodate a baby's head-"

"Okay, okay," Genet said. "Then what?"

"She started to move, showing me how till I understood. I did that till I experienced the ejaculatory response."

"What?" Genet said.

"The contraction of the vas and the seminal vesicles mixing with pro-static secretions-"

"He came," I explained. I'd learned the word from a scruffy little pamphlet auth.o.r.ed by a T N. Raman, a writer of purple prose. My cla.s.smate Satish brought these pamphlets back from his holiday in Bombay. T N. Raman was responsible for most everything Indian schoolboys learned (or misunderstood) about s.e.x.

"Oh ... and after that?" Genet said.

"Well, I got up, got dressed, and left."

"Did it hurt you?" I asked.

"No pain." From his unsmiling expression, he could have been talking about getting an ice cream at Enrico's.

"That's it?" Genet asked. "Then you paid her?"

"No, I paid her first."

"What did she say when you were leaving?"

Shiva thought about that. "She said she liked my body, and she liked my skin. That next time she would give it to me ... doggy style!"

"What did she mean, 'doggy style'?"

"I didn't know. I said, 'Why wait till next time? Show me now.' "

"You had money?"

"That's what she asked. 'You have money?' But I didn't. She let me do it anyway. From the back was what she called doggy style. This time I think she had her own ... explosion."

"G.o.d," Genet said, groaning and sliding down in her chair, her face suffused with blood. "What's the matter with you, Marion? Where are you going?"

I had risen from my chair. The scent coming from Genet was overpowering, the air shimmering pink with it.

"What's the matter with me?" I was not as annoyed as I acted. "How am I supposed to study here, tell me? I can't believe you asked me that."

The matter with me was that I was terribly aroused, hearing Shiva's story, and now seeing the sultry look in Genet's eyes, her body in touching distance, smelling her in heat, and knowing she was willing. If I didn't leave, I was going to have my own explosion in my pants. I had to leave. I shoved my biology notes into my jacket.

I found Rosina standing too close to the kitchen door and now pretending some special interest in the stove. Even if she wasn't eavesdropping or lacked any sense of smell, she surely saw the pink cloud wafting out of the dining room. She avoided my eyes. Mother and daughter couldn't seem to escape each other, with Genet determined to act outrageously, and Rosina just as determined to respond, and it was difficult to say who initiated their battles. Rosina was my ally in one sense, because she kept Genet safe for me. But it annoyed me to see her hovering in this way.

"I'm going to the souk," I said gruffly.

"But you just sat down to study, Marion."

I glared at her, daring her to stop me.

I TOOK MY TIME walking down to the front gate. I bought a c.o.ke but then gave it to Gebrew. I sat in his sentry hut. I didn't want to go home until my mind and my body were back to baseline. Gebrew's long story about a troublesome nephew helped the cause.

Eventually, I bid Gebrew good night, and I headed back. When I turned up from the roundabout to the road leading to our bungalow, I saw that there was a light on in the toolshed. Shiva worked late there many nights.

Whenever I came this way in the dark, I felt dread as I neared the spot where the army man went airborne. There was a crack in the concrete of the curb that commemorated that moment when the BMW's front wheel had been arrested.

The tree trunks creaked and groaned. The rustling of the leaves sounded ominous, like a hand sifting through coins. I fully expected to see the army man rise out of the darkness. After years of imagining him, I would find it almost a relief when he appeared. Shiva had no such qualms because he stayed in the toolshed late into the night. The pa.s.sing years hadn't taken away from me the weight of what had happened at this spot; but the fear had become familiar. I understood what made people confess to murder years after the fact; they believed that it was the only way to cease tormenting themselves. I hurried past that turn in the road.

I heard music from Shiva's radio in the toolshed.

I was just past the toolshed, almost to our house, when I saw a figure come purposefully down the hill. It was pitch-dark, and now I heard a muttering sound-it was talking to itself. My heart was in my mouth, but what kept me from panic was that it sounded like a woman. Only when the figure was almost on me did I see that it was Rosina. Where could she be headed at this hour? She came up very close to me, studying my face the way she often did to be sure I was not Shiva. Then, before I registered her anger, she slapped me. She was all over me, cuffing me and pulling me down by my hair with her left hand while she slapped me with her right.

"I warned you!" she screamed.

"Rosina! What are you talking about?" I said, cowering.

This only infuriated her. I suppose I could easily have stopped her, or run, but I was too shocked to react. She slapped me again.

"Five minutes I leave you alone, and this is what happens! So clever, you pretending to go to the souk, and she to the bathroom."

When I asked her to explain, she swung at me, and this time I turned so her blow found the back of my head.

"I waited," she said. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Then I went looking for you. I saw her coming up the hill. You sent her out first, didn't you? If she gets pregnant, what happens?" Rosina hissed in my ear. "It means she'll be a maid like me. All that English and studying books won't make any difference in her life."

"But, Rosina, I didn't-"

"Don't lie to me, my child. You were never good at lying. I saw you two looking at each other. I should have kept her home right then."

I stood silent, staring at her.

"You want proof? Is that it?" she yelled. "She reached to her waist and drew something out and flung it at me. A pair of women's panties. "Her blood ... and your seed." I picked the garment off my face. In the dark I could see nothing. But I could smell blood, the scent of Genet ... and I could smell s.e.m.e.n. It was mine. I recognized my starchy scent. No one else shared that odor.

No one but my twin brother.

I HAD NO HEART, no energy, to do anything but to crawl into bed. I felt battered. I felt alone. Shiva came to bed much later. I waited to see if he would say anything. At some point he fell asleep while I lay there awake. In Ethiopia there was a method of divining guilt called lebashai: a little boy was drugged and taken to the scene of the crime and asked to point out the guilty party. Unfortunately, a hallucinating youngster's pointing finger too often stopped in front of an innocent who was then stoned to death or drowned. Lebashai was banned in the empire, but it still went on in the villages. That was how I felt: falsely accused by the pointing finger, but unable to defend myself.

What I could do was extract revenge. The guilty party slept next to me. I could have killed Shiva that night. I thought about it. I decided it would solve nothing. My world was already destroyed. My arms were dead. My brain was numb. My love had been turned into a mockery of love, into s.h.i.t. I had no reason, no desire, to do anything anymore.

GENET DIDN'T GO to school the next day. Shiva left with Hema's reluctant permission to go with Mr. Farinachi to Akaki, to the textile factory where one of the giant dye machines had seized. Farinachi had been asked to manufacture a part, and he wanted Shiva to come and see the giant looms.

I stayed in bed. When Hema came to see why, I said I didn't feel well and wouldn't go to school. She took my pulse, looked at my throat. She was puzzled. When she tried to quiz me, I said, "Never mind, I'm going." That was easier than facing an interrogation.

I don't remember anything about that day in school. Ghosh and Hema had no idea what had transpired, but they knew something had happened. The door and window to Rosina's quarters were closed, and they could hear Rosina carrying on in there in a loud voice.

That evening Hema said there were three of Rosina's relatives- a woman and two men-visiting her. Hema pressed me as to what was going on. I couldn't believe that she didn't know or that Rosina didn't tell her. It appeared that no one was talking about what happened the previous night. I was sure Rosina would go to Hema and accuse me and I couldn't understand why so far she had not. Had Hema talked to Shiva, I suspect she would have found out everything. But no one thought to ask him.

Shiva returned just as we were finishing dinner, pleased with his excursion to Akaki. Neither Genet nor Rosina was at the table. Almaz said that mother and daughter were having a big fight and that Rosina's relatives had come to mediate.

Hema rose to go see what was happening, but Ghosh held her back. "Whatever it is, if you get in the middle it's only going to get more complicated." Shiva said nothing, eating his food.

I wasn't being n.o.ble by keeping quiet. I didn't think anyone would believe my side of the story. It was up to my brother or Genet to save me if they wanted to. I studied Shiva's face at the dining table. There was no sign that he was aware of the calamity he'd caused. No indication at all.

That night I told Shiva I was moving to a room in Ghosh's old quarters. I was going to sleep and study there. I wanted to be alone there, I announced, not looking at him.

He said nothing. It would be the first time in our lives that we did not occupy the same bed. If there were filaments and cords of yolk or flesh that kept our divided egg sticking together, I was taking a scalpel to them.

Sat.u.r.day morning, when I came over for breakfast, it seemed to me that Shiva hadn't slept any better than I had. After breakfast, he left for Farinachi's.

I was about to go back to my room to study when Almaz burst into the dining room. "I think you better come, madam," she said, addressing Hema.

She led the charge to the servant's quarters; Hema, Ghosh, and I followed.

Rosina sat in a corner of the darkened room, looking sullen, defensive yet anxious. Genet lay on her bed, her face pale, sweat beading on her forehead, her eyes open, but unfocused and dull. The room held a raw, sour odor of fever.

"What happened here?" Hema asked, but Rosina wouldn't answer or meet Hema's gaze. Almaz turned on the light, and she moved to block my view, then lifted the blanket to show Hema.

Ghosh said, "Open the window, Marion," and he moved closer to look.

"My G.o.d," Hema said. Genet moaned in pain. Hema grabbed Rosina's shoulders. "Did you? Did you just ... this poor girl?" Choking with fury, Hema shook her. But Rosina wouldn't look up. "You stupid woman!" Hema said. "Oh, G.o.d, G.o.d. Why?" Hema's eyes were those of a madwoman, uncomprehending, dangerous. I thought she might strangle Rosina. Instead, she pushed her away. "You've probably killed her, Rosina, do you know that?" There were tears coming down Rosina's chin, but her expression remained surly.

Ghosh scooped Genet in his arms, and she let out an unearthly moan as he lifted her off the bed. "The car," Ghosh said, and Almaz ran ahead to get the door. Hema followed. I lingered for a second in the doorway on the threshold of Genet's home. My nanny sat just the way she had when we came in. I thought of the day she'd taken a razor to scarify Genet's face and how her expression had been defiant, proud. But now, I saw shame and fear.

As I ran to join them in the car, Hema spun on her heel and thrust her face in mine. "I think you had something to do with this, Marion. I'm not a fool!"

She got in the car and slammed the door. They pulled away with Almaz cradling Genet in the back, Ghosh driving. I ran down our drive, cut behind the toolshed and across the field, and caught up with them as they took her into Casualty.

They poured fluids and antibiotics into Genet's veins. Then Hema took her to Operating Theater 3 for a more careful examination. When Hema came out, she was shaken but more composed, and quietly furious. She didn't seem to care if I heard her report to Ghosh and Matron. "Can you imagine Rosina paid to slice off the child's c.l.i.toris? Not just c.l.i.toris but also the l.a.b.i.a minora and then sew the edges together with sewing thread! Good G.o.d, can you imagine the pain? I cut the sutures out. It is hugely infected. Now it's up to G.o.d."

Genet was wheeled to the single room reserved for VIPs. I remembered Ghosh telling me it was the room that General Mebratu had occupied after emergency surgery, shortly after we were born.

I sat on a chair by her bed. At one point, Genet squeezed my hand, whether consciously or reflexively I couldn't be sure. I held it.

Hema sat across from me in an armchair, her elbows on her knees, head in her hands. We had nothing to say to each other. I was as angry with Hema as she was with me.