Cheater

By Shreya Joshi

Ishani was staring hard at herself in the bathroom mirror, wondering if she had gone crazy. Looking back at her was the same girl, but her usually rosy cheeks had turned pale, and her usually bright and sparkly eyes were red and swollen. The joy from her face and her expressions seemed washed out, and Ishani saw a reflection of what seemed like a ghost, staring back at her. She could see the rage and the confusion on that face. Everything she had ever known, seemed to be displaced, all of a sudden, only because she was too curious to examine the contents of her husband’s phone. An act she had never done before, in the journey of the ten years she had known him, from childhood friends to lovers, and during the entirety of their marriage.

She felt like throughout her life she had just been in a happy dream, and suddenly, she had been slapped awake. The girl who believed only in roses and butterflies was told that the world was dark and cruel. Her heartache gave way to such intense physical pain that her stomach cramped and her bones ached. In a midst of confusion and denial, Ishani kept trying to search for the sound of logic, which even though very faint, was trying to reason that just because she saw what she saw, she should not be so sure and jump to a definitive conclusion. A suggestive text exchange on his phone with a number he has saved as ‘Plumber’ surely has an explanation. It could just be very harmless flirting.

It could be nothing but her restless self; arriving at a deduction propelled and inspired by the myriad soap operas she had seen; where successful men tended to stray from their marriages, and that could be all. Her mind told her to maintain her dignity, and just wait for her husband to come home, and have a conversation with him. This much self-respect Ishani had to have, to know that either her worries were futile and baseless; or if there was any ounce of truth to what she believed was happening, she would walk away. But she would not stay in a marriage where the very foundations of trust had been shaken.

However, the heart, the silly little heart, in a situation so unprecedented, does not hear the sound of logic or reasoning when it has already arrived at a decision. The mind may be shrieking at the highest pitch, telling one to compose themselves, but the heart cannot listen when it is deafened by the ache. All it takes is one stab for the heart to start questioning everything.

It seemed like something in Ishani’s body was dictating to her the next course of action, which stemmed from a clear lack of good judgement. Yet, Ishani seemed to move in accordance with these “whispered” instructions.

The first step of course was to discover the truth for herself. To do that, she had to trace her husband, which was easy because she had access to his “Find My Phone”. Step two, in case any confrontation was required, Ishani had to be confident. To do that, a few swigs of whiskey. Step three, grab the car keys, get in the car, hit the ignition and follow the location of her husband’s phone. All through this duration, Ishani was making the decision to ignore the feeble voice in the back of her head that kept saying, talk to him instead and see how he reacts. If he is defensive you will know. If he is aggressive you will know. Can you really hold yourself together if you catch him in an activity you don’t want to see, without the urge to projectile hurl everywhere?

***

Ishani woke up in trepidation. She was in a bed, blinking up at very bright white lights that were hurting her eyes. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes and saw some tubes were connected to her veins. There was a slight pain in her chest. She readjusted her vision, and saw that she was connected to a monitor that was showing her pulse and heart rate. She was no more in the weird assemble of hurriedly picked-up pyjamas she had left her house in, but in a white gown with pale blue polka-dots on them; and tucked into white bed covers. As soon as she understood that she was in some hospital room, a nurse injected her with something, and Ishani was overcome by a sense of heaviness, and slowly gave into sleep.

***

Ishani slowly opened her eyes and felt a lightness of being. She felt as if her soul had left its physical home, and had drifted away to float by her bedside, to look down on her. She saw her own body as if it was someone else looking at her. Pale-faced, with her frail body lying between the two rods of the hospital bed.

The bed had a small armchair placed next to it, usually used by attendants and visitors. The same armchair where her husband should have been, waiting for Ishani to wake up. Yet, the room was eerily empty. At that time, the only two inhabitants in that room were Ishani’s body, on that bed; and her soul, hovering over her body, and watching it from the outside. Staring down at her own physical self, Ishani for the first time understood that the body is just like a layer of clothing worn by our spirit. At the moment, her spirit was in its birthday suit, that is, absolutely naked, and thus invisible to the human eye.

But this cloak of invisibility did not seem to provide Ishani with any answers. She knew she had consumed a little too much whiskey, but if she had found herself in the safety of a hospital bed, surely, someone would have called her husband, who was listed as her emergency contact in every documentation that ever existed, and informed him of what had happened. Yet, he was not here. So where was he?

Her spirit, outraged, started being pulled as if by a magnet guiding her to the truth, out of the hospital room. Her body was still in the hospital bed, and at the moment devoid of a soul, looked like Ishani was fast asleep.

The universe seemed to guide her spirit in the direction of her husband’s office. Yet, when she neared his office building, her soul started floating towards the only hotel in that entire business district. Ishani had no idea what was controlling her movements or navigating her spirit. But like all dreams where things just happen to the protagonist, instead of questioning anything, Ishani kept going along with it. Despite her effervescence at the moment, her heart was in a state of anguish. It felt like only the truth could set her free, and however much agony it may cause her, Ishani decided that she would rather know than live in a bubble. So she kept floating towards what was pulling her, believing in the magnetism of truth.

If an intoxication fuelled accident was not miserable enough, what Ishani saw next was. It was her husband, Sameer, checked into a room of the hotel, with a woman Ishani did not recognize, but immediately hated with all her being. It was not their plumber.

The room was filled with rose petals, champagne, and strawberries; all aphrodisiacs that gave a very clear indication of the very intents and purposes for which the room was going to be used.

To make everything worse, she heard the vibrations on Sameer’s phone, which she somehow knew for a fact was the hospital trying to reach him, and she saw Sameer ignore the call.

“Answer it”, Ishani’s mind thought to herself. “How can you not care? What if it is an emergency?”

Ishani saw Sameer’s companion also nudge him, “aren’t you going to answer it?” Sameer replied, “it’s spam, my love. I don’t know what number this is, and I don’t want us to be disturbed.”

Ishani’s hearing was ringing. Sameer’s voice calling another woman “my love”; not answering a repeated call, knowing he had a wife and had willingly entered into the responsibilities of the institution of marriage; made her so furious. I’ll teach him. Ishani floated out of the room. Her spirit then directed itself towards their house.

What she had called home was actually a mansion. Once you enter past the gates, the driveway would take you to the main living quarters, behind which was an outhouse, that served as Sameer’s study. All his most prized possessions were kept here. His art collection, trust fund papers, heaps of cash, and a very valuable collection of golf clubs, among the myriad other things rich people collect, just because they can.

“Alcohol put my body on that hospital bed…”, Ishani thought, “…then alcohol should destroy everything stupid Sameer was attached to.” Despite her soul being in vapour form, her anger still enabled her to pick up and smash objects.

She opened the decanter full of imported liquor and poured it all over Sameer’s mahogany desk. Next, she smashed a very expensive bottle of red wine against the frame of a painting that was very ugly to Ishani, but very precious to Sameer, only because of the price he had paid to obtain it. She pulled out stacks of cash from the little safe, drenched them with tequila, and for finishing touches, poured some all over the curtains. Then with all the flair she could muster, she set the place ablaze and drifted away.

***

Ishani woke up in trepidation again, but that immediately gave way to a strange sense of calmness, the kind she had not experienced before- this time, along with her body. Maybe her spirit found her way back and gave her body the courage to wake up to dump her lying husband in real time. A familiar-looking nurse saw her open her eyes and lovingly smiled at her.

“Oh goody, you are awake. Your husband has just gone to get some coffee and should be right back.” The nurse then trailed off into the details of what had happened to Ishani and how she landed up in the hospital. While Ishani was confused and needed the details, she first wanted to reconfirm what the nurse had initially said.

“Sorry. You told me my husband is here.” Ishani stuttered. “When... when exactly did he arrive?” “Oh as soon as you were brought to the hospital, we called your emergency contact. He couldn’t get here fast enough. He stayed beside your bed the entire night. He was very worried. I am sure he will be comforted to see you awake... no dear, don’t sit up so fast, we still have to run some tests...”

At that exact moment, Sameer entered the barren hospital room that Ishani was lying in, “Oh my love, you are awake thank God!” He looked at Ishani’s puzzled expression and cupped her face in his hands. “How are you feeling, are you hurting? Nurse, did you call the doctor? Oh, Ishani, my sweetheart, what did you do to yourself? Anyway, I am glad you’re okay. It’s just a few minor bruises. I’ll take you home real soon.”

Ishani, still blinking in confusion stared at the nurse and then at Sameer. Both of them sounded so earnest in their voice. Now, slowly awakening to her current environment, which was the hospital room, with Sameer tightly holding her left hand, and her right hand connected to IV drips; Ishani wondered about how real her ghoulish nightmare felt and was glad it was over. While she still needed answers, at least Sameer loved her enough to be by her side while she was lying unconscious. The whole thing was just her ugly thoughts manifesting in a very lunatic dream.

Ishani thought that the best course of action, once they left the hospital, would be to have a conversation with Sameer about the conversation with the “Plumber” she saw on his phone and give him a chance to explain himself.

***

In the moments between her waking up and being let out of the hospital, Sameer did not leave Ishani alone for a moment, even when the doctors were conducting some final checks. While Ishani was comforted by his presence, her mind buzzed with the same thought and question - Is this the end of my marriage?

Within the day, the hospital discharged her, and in Sameer’s arms, she walked to their car and buckled herself in the passenger seat.

It was a windy day, the trees were rustling and the sunlight was shining upon the car when the sun was not hiding behind the canopy of the trees. Ishani had no energy to speak during the drive back home but was smiling and blushing the entire time while Sameer was professing how much he loved her and how he just wanted her to be safe. She wanted to live in his words and cherish this moment because she no longer knew what to expect.

It was a beautiful day. The car wound up to the main gate of their house, and Ishani rolled down the window to breathe in the scent of the Eucalyptus trees that were planted along the driveway. It was a scent that could soothe the most tired person, and she knew it would immediately comfort her despite how weary she was.

As soon as she rolled down her window, the acrid smell of sulphur and smoke hit Ishani. Her eyes widened. She looked at Sameer, but he did not seem to notice what she had noticed. He was looking only at the driveway ahead, whistling a chirpy tune. Ishani looked ahead again, and there in the distance she saw, as real as it could be, a dark grey cloud of fumes, emitting from behind the main living quarters. And back again it was, that sense of stabbing pain that was only just trying to leave her heart, and her brain fogged up with all the questions she could neither understand nor answer, and all she had to explain for this sensation was the vision of the embers before her.

By Shreya Joshi