by
TAJ
Putting down the hose, Yusri stepped back to examine his work. His car gleamed brightly in the early morning sunlight.Is it not a beautiful machine? he thought to himself as he emptied a bucket of soapy water. He had spent the last hour washing and cleaning the car both inside and out, and now he was almost ready to begin the trip.
"Nadia," he called to his wife. "Come see our fine car, so new and so blue. See how it shines now that it is clean."
A dark-skinned woman appeared at the doorway, wearing a simple yellow maternity dress with an apron tied loosely around her heavy waist. She admired the car for a few seconds before she said, " Yes, Yusri. It certainly is pretty."
Her response was appropriate enough, but it seemed to him that she agreed with only half her heart. Something troubled her.
"I'll be leaving soon, Nadia. Have you a word for me before I go?"
She smiled. "You read my lips before they have spoken."
"Your veil is quite thin."
"The weather seems so warm today," she replied, fully enjoying the word play. "Will you wear your suit, too?"
Yusri understood her at once. It was the car that troubled her. They had used most their savings to secure the down-payment and now it seemed she was having second thoughts. Like the suit, which he wore only to special government ceremonies, it was a luxury, an indulgence of little practical value in the tropics. They had agreed on that. But they had also agreed that such things have another type of value which is much more subtle and in ways more powerful than money. They had discussed this many times before. He did not wish to begin again.
"The car has air-con," he replied at last. "Have the gifts been prepared yet?"
Nadia re-entered the house while Yusri wiped the last drops of water from the chromework of the car with a clean towel. It was true. He understood her quite well. But it had always been that way. Ever since their first meeting at college, he had been able to read her moods and sighs as though they had been given voice. And it was just as well, too, for she seldom answered his questions directly. Nor could she guess his thoughts had he had first expected. Perhaps it was because she had been brought up in the capital, away from the neighbors and the closeness that had surrounded his youth. They had grown up in two very different worlds and it sometimes caused problems.
Just as he was finishing the drying, Nadia reappeared at the door with two large green plastic bags. They contained fruit and sweetcakes, a few books, some jewelry, expensive batik cloth and a great number of bank notes folded into clever animal shapes: fish, turtles and birds. She was trying her best to look cheerful.
"So many gifts," she said softly.
"So many friends and relatives," he added. After helping her put the bags on the back seat of the car with his suitcase, they cleaned up the area in front of the house together, put away the hose, bucket, sponges and rags. Then, they both went inside, where Yusri changed into his suit. It was as he was knotting his tie that Nadia chose to speak.
"Yusri," she murmured, pausing to gain her strength. "Are you happy with our life?"
"Of course," he answered without hesitation.
"I mean, are you happy in truth?"
Yusri sighed. "What man could be happier? Haven't I a fine home and a devoted wife? Is my job not important and the salary good? Soon I shall have a small son to carry my name. My life could not possibly be better. Even the weather is agreeable."
"Allah be thanked," she nodded.
"Allah be thanked," he sighed once more. She could be such a worry at times. "Have we finished all of the preparations?"
