Sara Alexi - The Illegal Gardener

Aaman continues to sit in silence, his learning from the past mingling with his needs of the day.

“I haven’t anything more to say,” Juliet concludes.

Aaman considers what she requires. Misunderstandings always need honesty. His father taught him that. When both sides can clearly understand the other’s point of view then they can work together to achieve harmony. He adjusts his weight on his bucket seat.

“I am proud. I am stubborn. I need to do the work well. Not just for the money. Can I say?” He looks at Juliet for the go ahead. She nods.

“My brother. He was big, he was strong. We loaded wood into the cart for the fire. We raced. He was always stronger and quicker. I was always trying to be as him. But I am smaller. I need to do everything good, to be more than I look. To not need any help. To race my brother. Difficult to say in English. Maybe it is not a good thing.” He drops his head and picks some more paint off his seat.

Juliet sits listening; he wonders if he should have said so much.

“OK. Right then. Well that’s how it is then. Best get on with it.” She slaps her thighs as she stands.

He takes his cue and stands at the same time. He turns to go back to work and Juliet goes into the kitchen. She returns with a glass of water and walks up to Aaman and hands it to him. He takes the water and his fingers enclose her scarred fingers briefly as the glass is exchanged. She smiles like his mother used to. He remembers she has two boys.

He watches her back fade into the darkened interior as she enters through the back door. He misses Saabira. He drinks the water in one and puts it on the windowsill.

The land is down to ground level, so Aaman begins to dig pieces of rag and plastic and batteries out of the top soil. He thinks of Juliet. He had in his mind a very clear image of Western women, blonde, beautiful, rich, immoral, and happy. This woman didn’t fit half of his picture. How could she be unhappy with such a big house and so much money? Aaman presumes from what she has said that she has been married and that he was not a very considerate husband. But it seemed that he was gone now so where was the problem? Western women don’t mind changing husbands, so if she was lonely, why didn’t she just get another Western husband?

The image of her salt-lined cheeks brings him sadness. She was like Saabira in her tears. What must her husband have done to her for her to fight so hard for her independence? These things never come easily, so the struggle may have been very hard or very long, or even both. It is always sad when a marriage is lost. But if she wanted her freedom then she has that now.

And yet she seems lonely.

He pulls at a bit of black rubber which turns into bicycle inner tube as it comes out of the ground. In the hole that is left is a playing card. The seven of diamonds. Aaman picks up the card, which seems so well preserved and yet useless on its own. He throws it into the rubble sack.

He struggles to fully comprehend what Juliet had been talking about. She said she needed to be the boss. But as she is the boss, this didn’t make sense. He wonders if she would rather do the garden by herself but cannot because she lacks the strength. Craving independence is very frustrating if being small makes it impossible. He knows. But at the same time he has the feeling that she does not wish to be alone, not completely. That is what confuses him. It feels like she is pushing and pulling. She wants him there, but she doesn’t want him there. She wants him to do the work, but she doesn’t want him do the work. Aaman wonders if she is afraid of him being there. That is not good.

Aaman makes the decision to be gentler in his steps in the Western woman’s house. She needs someone to tread softly no matter what the work requires. He must put his pride in doing well secondary. If she does not ask him to finish a job, then he must leave it undone if by leaving it undone is better for Juliet. He will tread as carefully with Juliet as he did with Saabira.

“Food.”

Aaman takes his time to wash well. There is hot water here, and soap. He scrubs his nails with the little brush and uses soap all the way up to his elbows. He quickly wipes over his face but feels it was not right to take advantage and have a full wash here.

Feeling fresher, Aaman walks out onto the patio and relaxes. The consequent shock of finding that Juliet has laid the table for two people to eat may be exaggerated by this fact.

He looks over the table with no hurry. Goat’s yogurt, fresh bread made with olive oil, stuffed vine leaves, beans in a tomato and oregano sauce, and a salad of cucumber, tomato, and olives. He reflects that he would be happier to eat alone, but he understands her gesture in eating with him and is a little surprised that she wants to close the gap to that degree.

The same food, at the same table, the two cultures, the two statuses. It is not immediately comfortable. The cat circles for scraps.

Aaman does not offer conversation, nor does Juliet. They sit in silence and eat slowly, in Aaman’s case carefully, listening to the birds all around, the cockerel who still doesn’t know the time, and the goat and sheep bells as a herd moves from meadow to stall.

It is only when they have finished eating and they watch the cat washing itself on the sun-soaked step that he realises they are both enjoying the silence of each other’s company. The cat stops licking and curls up, the unity of the stillness. The three of them balance between their expectations and the difficulty of making themselves understood.

Juliet is up and dressed, deciding to work alongside Aaman in the garden. With two of them working, side by side, it will be a quicker job. It might even be fun.

The cat slides off the sofa as Juliet opens the front door to greet the day. There is no post in the box hanging on the gate, but she decides to leave the gate open for Aaman’s arrival.

As she clicks the kettle on, the phone rings.

“Hi Mum!”

“Terrance, did you get your essay in on time?” Juliet asks.

“Yes, no worries. Just wondered if you were coming home soon or what.”

“Come home to where, love?”

“I don’t know, just home.”

“Darling, I don’t have a home there anymore.” Images of the home where they all lived together for so many years spin in her thoughts. The moments of laughter, cups of tea, the coziness of them all together, the Englishness of it all.

“So that’s it, you’ve gone?”

“You and Thomas helped me plan this. We searched maps together to decide on location. You and Thomas divided all the household stuff out between you when I whittled my belongings down to two bags. Why are you…?” Juliet looks at the clock. “It’s six in the morning where you are. Why are you even up so early?”

“Mum, just come home. It’s Easter in a week.”

“OK, Terrance what is it?” Juliet pushes her hair off her face before putting her hand on her hip. She looks at the floor, taps her toe, waiting for the whole story. It feels like a familiar action, a practised patience.

“Look, there’s been a bit of a cock up.”

Juliet sighs and sits down. These words tell her this has something to do with money. Thomas is amazing with money, but then again he is earning. Terrance, on the other hand, the dreamer, never has it under control.

“The job I had at the university bar? Well I was studying one evening and I sort of got so carried away with it that I forgot to go. Well, that idiot James from the first year was there, at the bar I mean, so he took my shift and must have done some super grovelling because, well, basically, he took my job.”

“And?” This sounds so familiar.

“And, well, I was looking for another job, but I had ages before I needed to pay the rent and I had a bit in the bank. But, wouldn’t you know it, last week Jim finally said he had fixed my car but he wanted two hundred quid. So really, if it wasn’t for Jim, I would have my rent money. But the landlord says he is coming round at the end of the week, he kind of threatened, saying he had a load of students who wants this room and if…”