The Call Girl and the Businessman Ch. 03

She had earlier noticed the ingenuity of lilac shade swirls at the corner of the living room.

"It looks like a puffy cloud, so cuddly, feminine and soft." She had said.

I shook my head.

"Is it really difficult to paint like that?" I asked.

She nodded zealously.

"I don't even know how to get started. To be honest, Lila, have you been to any house where the wall colours blend in magically like that?" She asked.

"I guess you have a point there. I am an eccentric when it comes to my walls." I said, with a twinkle in my eyes.

The atmosphere had lightened up. We both laughed and enjoyed two huge mugs of coffee each. I felt that I was going to be alright. Penelope said that she would be there for me.

After she left though, I felt uneasy. He came like the wind, gently and slowly seeping in through the windows. Mr. Boardmann loomed like a relic from my past.

Therefore it was only logical that I distract myself. I spent the afternoon walking down to the touristic part of the boulevard from my house at the extreme end of the boulevard. I admired the sea on my right as I walked along the endless blue-bricked path. There was a slight breeze all around me. My hair swayed with the wind. I watched the dune grass sway gracefully; its sharp blades and frilly crowns made a whistling sound against the wind. The migratory herons were standing stoically in camouflage amongst the shrubby foliage, silently waiting for prey. I took it all in. These were the loves of my life at this moment of time.

After walking for five kilometres, the uneasiness I felt dissipated. The public library came in sight on the left of the boulevard. I entered, mostly for a cup of tea at the tea café which made up a corner of the library. It was where you could also read magazines and books while enjoying your tea.

The café was empty except for Cherie, the librarian who also doubled up as the tea-lady. I saw her every time I went to the library. She was hard to miss as the library was almost always empty. I thought it was due to its location some distance away from the hustle and bustle of the suburb. Also, because this suburb was the residence of white-collar professionals who worked during the day, they simply had not the time or the inkling to go to the library. What more, when you can read e-books nowadays. Well, I was but old-fashioned when it came to books.

I loved to drown myself in the trials and tribulations of dusty, old hand-held books which I could feel, touch and see. The older the book, the better; the richer the history of the book. I wondered about the previous readers of the books; whose hands had skimmed down the pages just as mine did. I liked to look at the different type-sets used. They almost seem to bulge out from paper. I touched the corners of the books. I felt the texture of the individual pages. I especially liked brown, vintage paper. Oh, the loves of my life. I needed nobody. Just me against the world.

I emphasized on loving my life a lot today as I needed to rid Mr. Boardmann from my central nervous system. It seemed that he had been lodged there and it was affecting my faculties. It was through no fault of mine. I just did not need to go into too much reasoning of why and how. I reprimanded myself. Just do something and get moving, Lila, the call girl.

I had a cup of bergamot tea. I was beginning to relax, and the tea made me feel rather languid. I took Jane Eyre from the shelf. I have read it numerous times, more for the language rather than the story line. Somewhat dramatic, long-winded perhaps but I could really feel the passion in her character, the strength in her suffering and the redemption she craved. I liked strong women. No kudos to her troubled, arrogant and ignorant, male counterpart. But then it brought me back to him- not Mr. Rochester, but to him whose eyes pierced me. I slammed the book like a door, put it back on the shelf and started helping Cherie sort out the returned books.

The library had two floors; the top floor reserved for multimedia. One could listen to and borrow CDs, DVDs and use the computers upstairs. I almost never go upstairs for these materials were of no interest to me. I hardly ever watch anything on television or online, and I had an ancient laptop that was sufficient for my needs.

"Please, do play the piano today before you leave." Cherie said, when she noticed that I was about to head out.

"Is there anyone in the library?" I asked.

"Only some guy upstairs; probably a tourist who is making use of the free Wi-Fi. Other than that, you can see that there is no one here today." She answered, gesturing around the café and the classics section which was right in front.

"I guess I could." I said.

I was reserved and would rather play the piano, all alone with no audience. I shielded from prying eyes. Cherie knew about this, and had told me that I was pretty good. In my defence, the piano was a rather loud instrument, and I would not want to impose my interpretation of music on anyone, especially in a public place. I felt that people would scorn my music, and then me. I was flawed and I had feelings embedded which I could conceal in daily life. But music was intimate to me, and my heart and soul went into the keys, serving only to amplify my feelings.

I headed to the vintage cream coloured piano, lifted its lid and laid my hands on its keys. Cherie had pulled out a chair from the long tables to sit beside me.

"How could I please my only audience today?" I asked, smiling at her.

"The melody that you played the last time you were here - something about the scent before rain, you said." Cherie replied.

"Let's see if I can remember exactly what I played." I said, rubbing my palms together to warm them up.

I started on it, rather nervously at first but then as I gained familiarity over the instrument, the notes took a life of their own. I was not in charge anymore. Only my fingers were splayed across the piano, dancing and jumping in place of my feet. I felt an immense sense of beauty; it encompassed physicality but more. It lingered on to the surreal. There was a presence which filled the air, via the sounds of notes. It was really nice to play to this piano, I thought.

When I was done, my fingers brushed on the keys without pressing them. I turned to look at Cherie, and I saw that there were tears in her eyes.

"It's so beautiful. There's some indiscernible quality to it. If scents were alive, this is how they would sound like." She said.

I smiled.

"What was on your mind when you played it? Cherie asked.

"My childhood. Sometimes I think of the incoming storm, cleansing away all impurities. But sometimes nothing comes to my mind." I said.

Cherie and I headed back to rearranging returned books on the shelf. She had called me her volunteer assistant.

"I won't be here next month. The municipal council is to retrench me and close the library." Cherie said, in a little voice.

She told me then that due to the lack of people coming to the library, the council decided that they would just do away with the library. There was a grand, main one in the city and the suburbs need not have a library of its own.

"How awful! I am sorry to hear that. You love working here." I said.

Cherie looked at me thoughtfully.

"Paid membership to borrow books had been decreasing over the years. I do not have many visitors and you are one of the regular ones. You come every other day. I have looked forward to your visits. You make my days more interesting." She said.

"Thank you Cherie. I do enjoy going to the library and chatting with you here." I said.

"This is an idea of mine to raise funds for the upkeep of the library. I want to organize an event here, and can I count you in?" She asked.

"Of course. What event are you organizing and how can I help?" I asked.

"Piano gala concert for five thousand people." She said.

"No. I'm not good enough." I said.

I was not going to play the piano for a crowd, not even two.

"I can't think of anything else." She said.

I looked at her. I did want to help her more than I had wanted to save the library. But surely there was something else that we could do. Not everything revolved around music.

"We have lots of rich businessmen in the suburbs. The concert tickets would be based on donation, and I think we can collect quite a bit. And people get to enjoy your beautiful music. Then we will present an appeal to the municipal council based on all the support we get." She said.

I heaved a big sigh.

"If you're sure this would work, then I'm in." I said finally.

Cherie gave me a big bear hug and immediately served me another cup of bergamot tea on the house. I thought of my repertoire to sustain an hour long concert.

It was six in the evening when I finally realised the time. I took leave of Cherie and walked quickly home. I still had to have my dinner and then it also took some time for all the make-up and hair to be done. I would later take a cab to Mr. Boardmann.

Cherie and I were so busy talking about the finer details about the event. I did not even see the lone tourist upstairs. He pretty much minded his own business. We both did not realize when he took leave from the library. At closing time, we had both gone upstairs to check for people and there was nobody there.

Only a scribbled note lay on one of the tables next to one of the many computers. It gave me a confidence boost. I omitted to tell Cherie about it, feeling that it was rather childish.

"Dear stranger, what exquisite music! Thank you."

I read the note, folded it into my jeans pocket, and genuinely smiled for the first time in ages. Oh, the loves of my life! Just the simple things are enough. No people, just things. A fleeting moment in time. A treasured appreciation. No complications. Just like the scent before rain...