Sara Alexi - The Illegal Gardener

Juliet remembers the time Terrance went on a skiing holiday with the school. They were late and it was up to Juliet to usher him through the airport to meet up with his beckoning class. She had tucked some sweets in his pocket as he left.

Aaman’s concentration is distracted by everything. He is in a world he thought would always be denied him. He is glad to experience it, but he is not sure it is better than oxen for ploughing and jugs for carrying water. Just different, a different struggle, money in larger quantities, more people, less personal. He draws his attention back to Juliet. There are no words big enough to express all he wants to say.

He leans towards her; she has tears in her eyes. He places his closed mouth on hers. She is still; he does not move. Lips apron lips, trying to pass over all he feels. He pulls away even more slowly than he had advanced. Juliet struggles to keep herself composed. It is time.

“Hi, Michelle. It’s me.”

“How are you doing? How is Aaman?”

“He’s gone.”

“Again?”

“No. This time he flew.”

“He flew? Flew where?”

“Pakistan.”

“Deported?”

“No, I helped buy the ticket.”

“Why? What do you mean? Has he gone for good? I can’t keep up!”

Juliet tells Michelle about Aaman’s quest to be able to help buy a harvesting machine for the village. “Once he had the money to do that, he had no reason to stay.”

Michelle is incredulous that a migrant worker could have managed to do this in such a short space of time, which leads the conversation onto his programming ability. She is suitably impressed.

“So are you staying in touch?”

“I don’t know, he said he would write, but his old life will take over and I think he will forget me.”

Juliet imagines his returns will be glorious. Arriving in Lahore where he had arranged to stay for a week before contacting his family. Together they had emailed so many businesses that he will need five or six day in town to see them all. He had said he would not leave Lahore and go home until he had a job. He said it would honour his brother, fulfil their dreams. He will arrive in his village employed. His family and friends will celebrate his return with a feast, and he will be swept along until she, Juliet, would be a distant memory.

“He was one lucky man to bump into you,” Michelle says.

“I think he blamed himself for his brother dying in the fires. His programming fulfilling both their lives, exorcising demons. It was the only thing that would account for such intensity, as if his life depended on it. Which, potentially, it did I suppose. Υou know what I mean?”

“A bit like your intensity to study Greek all these years because Greece and its attitude remind you of your dad.” Michelle pauses slightly between the last few words, the final word comes out almost like a whisper.

“What?” Juliet says.

“Well, the Irish are quirky and warm and humorous, and the Greeks are quirky and warm and humorous. At least they were when we were there twenty million years ago. Don’t you remember, you even said at the time that everyone you met reminded you of your dad? You even said, ‘It’s like southern Ireland, but warm.’” Michelle laughs. “We had such a good time. Do you remember that barman who just kept giving us shots and then he ended up dancing on the bar? Remember? He banged his chest and said, ‘Life depends on what is in your heart.’ And we cracked up laughing.”

Juliet laughs. “That was such a good holiday. I never thought that it would lead to where I am now.” Her tone drops and a sadness enters her voice. “His intensity will get him the job though.”

“And after he gets the job?”

“I suppose he will go to the village." Juliet can imagine Saabira running to greet him, his mother kissing him all over, his father shaking his hand, and the whole village gathering around him. Some will say, “Did you get the money?” Aaman will ask, “How much is the village short?” Someone will tell him. “Not any more, I will cover it all!” he’ll cry. The village will cheer. A real hero’s return. Juliet laughs as she cries.

“Aw, Juliet, I don’t know what you guys had together but am I getting the feeling, maybe, that it wasn’t such a good idea. Do you regret it?”

“Absolutely not! He is the most spectacular thing that has happened to me since my dad rescued me from the fire. He has opened my mind, my prejudices, and my heart. It is easy to think you’re OK if you don’t know what you’re missing. He showed me so much, Michelle. I feel a different person for meeting him. A better one.”

“Sounds like love to me.”

Juliet blows her nose.

“Juliet, you’ll be OK. It’s not as if he left you because of you. He would have stayed if he wasn’t married, by the sound of it.”

“Yes, it is more like he has died in a way, you know, because nothing has changed between us.” There has been no falling out and no change of heart. “But then again, he is not dead because we could write, or email maybe. I am hoping at some point he’ll get Skype so I can see him.”

“And his wife?”

“You know, that is strange, I do not feel jealous of her at all. In fact, from what he has said, I think I would like her. His was an arranged marriage and he has worked hard to make it a happy one. I was not an arrangement. I was a choice, of sorts.”

“What do you mean, ‘of sorts’?”

“Well, he worked for me and the relationship grew because we spent so much time together, and, as you pointed out, I had no-one else and he had no-one else. So how much was choice and how much was proximity and human nature?”

“Good idea, Juliet. Take all the romance out, dissect it until it cannot hurt you and it becomes worthless. Pick it to pieces until you have nothing to run from. Go on then, time to slam the phone down.”

“No, I hear you.”

Michelle clears her throat, a short contemplative sound.

“But do you see what I mean?” Juliette asks.

“No, you’re talking rubbish. You’re saying that with any man you invite in to do your garden, you’re going to find this connection. If that were the case, they wouldn’t advertise Date Line, they would advertise Garden Line. Get real, Juliet. These connections are rare. I wish I had had such a connection to someone. All I’ve ever had was lust, familiarity, practicality, and divorce. No, treasure it, and be thankful he was not around long enough to spoil it.”

“A little bit longer would have been nice. Like ten years or so.” Juliet tries to laugh.

“You are open to it so maybe it will come by again. It is like the rich. If you make one of them poor, they just get rich again because they know how. Well, see yourself like that. See life like that and then everyone you meet has potential.”

“Is there a jury present for this summary?” Juliet digs at Michelle’s profession.

“I mean it, Jules. I sometimes think I’m all shrivelled and dry inside. I would love to be back watching that medallion-encrusted barman dance on the table again because this time I would understand what he was saying, be up there with him and seize the moment!”

“And seize him?” Juliet laughs.

“Too right! Everyone has potential, even Mr Medallion Man.”

“Michelle, you are doing me the world of good. Do you fancy coming over for Christmas? We’ll find you another medallion man.” The cat jumps up on her knee. “Hello Aaman. I haven’t seen you for a while.”

“Is he back?”

“No, no it is the cat. I thought it was about time he got a name. His lady cat has had kittens.”

“Let me guess. She is called Saabira and what have you called the kittens?”