FourHundredQuid VrittiBansal

Vritti Bansal is primarily a nonfiction writer with prior experience as a foodjournalist. Her fiction work

andpoetry are mostly born out ofreality, too. Apart from cuisine, she likes new places andpeople. She feels strongly about animal welfare andwomen's rights.

TwogirlssatonthebenchinfrontofKathy,gigglingawayaboutsomethingshecouldn'tbe botheredtooverhear.Oneofthemwasslightlytallerthantheother,andremindedherofKim.Shefelt sorryforthegirlsittingnexttothetallerone,whowaslookingatherwithaffectioninthemiddleofher laughs,justthewayanyonewouldlookatapersontheytrustedandadored.Kathycouldn’thelpher thoughts: She doesn't care about you as much as you care about her. Oh, she'll call you tomorrow to cancel yourshoppingdate. Even worse, she'll text. She'll disconnect yourcall to speakto herboyfriendof

one week. She'll leave you crying in the middle ofthe night. Even when yourgranddadpasses away.

ThewalkhomewasablurforKathy.Sheusuallystoppedtoplaywithdogsbeingwalkedbytheir friendlyownersbuttodaytheyallseemedinvisibletoher.NotuntilshereachedthefrontdoordidKathy realisethatshehadforgottentopickupthemilkthathermotherhadaskedfor.

Herparents’ housewasaclassy,yetmodeststructureinthequieterpartofMaidaVale. Itappeared evenmoreidyllicthanusual,ifseenfromthemid-pointoftheimaginarylinethatjoinedtheonlytwo paralleltreesonthatstreet. ShewalkedinandthrewhercoatonthechairbesidetheTVcabinet,jumping slightlyasthedoorclosedbehindherwithanunexpectedbang. Stupidfuckingdoor. Shegaveuptryingto avoidherphoneandassheturneditaroundtolookatthescreen;therewerenosixmissedcallsfrom Kim,orthreetexts. Fine.

Absentmindedlystaringatthecurtains,shesawimagesofthetwogirlsshehadseeninthepark. Everyone needs a best friend. Ican't overreact. KathytookadeepbreathanddialledKim.Herreflection inthewindowpanerevealedanexpectantface,andsheplayedalong. She's goingto pickup with herusual enthusiastic ‘hello’. She must've hadsomethingserious on hermind. Ineedto have more control over my temper. Maybe she's workingandthe phone is in the livingroom. Maybe she's... "Thepersonyou'retrying toreachisnotanswering". *** "Peoplewhowalkoutthedoorwhenyourlife'saboutaverageshouldn’tbeallowedbackinwhen it'sgoingfabulouslywell,justbecausetheywanttobepartofyourlifeagain,whenyouhavebetter

peopleandexperiencessurroundingyou.Saveyouraffection,timeandsecondchancesforpeoplewho havecaredenoughtotreatyouwellthroughout,fortheyaretheoneswhodeserveit." Davidhadawaywithwords.Kathynoddedthoughtfully,andhesmiled. “Nowshewritestome.Almostayearlater. WherewasshewhenIneededafriend?Herapology seemssofake.”

Sheleftherfathersittinginthelivingroomtogotothekitchen.Iftherewassomethingotherthan talkingtoherparentsthatcalmedherdown,itwastea.Shemeasuredwaterfortwocupsandputittoboil inasaucepan. Herbrother,Brandon,neverunderstoodwhysheignoredthepresenceofanelectrickettle intheirkitchen.Hedidn’trealisethatburnt,metallic-tastingwaterwastoohighapricetopayfor convenience. "Dad! EarlGrey,orshallwetrythenewpackofPekoe?" "Let'strythePekoe,"Davidanswered,hisvoicemomentarilydrowningoutthebubblingofthe water. Shepulledthetopofthefoilteapacketapart."Ohmy.Remindmetotantalisemumwithawhiff ofthis."

SimplepleasureswouldbetheanswerifeveranyoneaskedaboutthecorephilosophyofKathy’s family.Shehadalwaysbeenproudoftheirattitude,butitalsomadeherfeeluncomfortable.Notbecause itwasembarrassingbutbecauseitrenderedeachoneofthemvulnerable.Especiallyinasocietythatwas increasinglybeginningtovaluethepricetagofaperfumemorethanthefragranceoftealeaves.Maybe shewasahypocrite,then,tohavefallenforamanwhohad LVmonogrammedalloverhispossessions. ***

Chrisemergedfromthekitchenwithtwoglassesofwine,onefilledwithredandtheotherwith white.HehadpouredthemtotheprecisepointthatKathynormallywould.Shesmiled,lookingatthem andtooktheglassofred.HehelditsothatKathyhadnochoicebuttobrushherfingersagainsthis.She continuedsmiling,lookingatherglass.Whenshefinallylookedupathim,hewasstaringather,butso

tenderlythatawarmglowspreadthroughher. "Cheers,"hesaidsoftly. "Cheers." Shesippedslowly.Stillwatchingher,Chrisspokeagain. "Kathy.I'vewrittenapoemforyou." "Youhave?" "Yes." Shelookedawayfromhimagain. "WhydoyoualwayslookawaywheneverItrytomakeyoufallformejustalittlemore?"

"That’sexactlywhy." Theystayedsilentforaminuteortwo. "MayIreadittoyouatdinneronSaturday?" "OnSaturday?Infrontofeveryone?" "Notexactly."

"Youmeaninprivatethen?" "Almost." "Ambiguity.You'rebeingambiguous,Isee." "See.Everythingyouutterispoetry.Itoldyou."HesethisglassnexttowhereKathywas leaningonthecabinetandmovedclosertoher.Hisfingersslowlyranthroughtheflickthatfelloverher foreheadandgentlysweptitaside.Shecouldn'tmove,eventhoughhewasn'tholdingher.Hislipsfeltlike warmmarshmallowsonhereyes,andhisnosefittedperfectbesidehers.Shedidn'twanthimtoevergo away. Hisnosesoftlytrailedalonghercheekbones,overherearlobe,thehairnexttoit,andthen behindherear.Kathywasafraidhe'dbestartledwiththeheatofherskin.Hishandsslowlycameupand

restedonherwaist.Sheplacedherhandsonthefamiliarfabricofhisdeepbluepoloshirt,rightwhereshe couldfeelhisbiceps.Hepulledhercloser. KathyknewthatChriswasverydifferentfromthemenshehadfoundherselfattractedtoin thepast.ShefeltlikeshehadorderedChrisfromacatalogueandreceivedexactlywhatshehopedfor, withnoexceptions. *** ChrisknewthatKathywasn’toneofthosegirlswhobelievedthatafalloutwithacollege boyfriendhadshapedhercurrentexistence.Helovedthatshedidn’tshroudherunpredictabilitywiththe pretextofhavingbeendeeplyhurt.Herunapologeticallyerraticbehaviourhadbeenoneofthethings aboutherthathecouldn’thelpbutlove.Shesurprisedhim,angryoneminute,hugginghimthenext.

Kathycouldn’tholdagrudgeandheknewbetterthantotakeadvantageofthat. Showeredandsmellingofcologne,Chrissprintedoutofhishousewithtwosealedredenvelopes inhishand.Heturnedrightatthefirstcorner,andenteredadingydoorway.Hisshoesmadelittlenoiseas hewentdownthestairsintothebasement,andwalkedthroughanotherdoorthatledtoadimlylitroom. Abig,dustytrunkoccupiedthecentreoftheroom,ontopofwhichwasathick,whitecandleandafew scatteredpapers.Abaldmansatonachair,leaningbothelbowsonthetrunkandholdingapeninhis righthand.Helookedintentlyatabundleofpapersinhislefthand,throughthin-framedbrassspectacles. Thelinesonhisforeheadhadbecomepermanent,andwerenotmerelytheresultofconcentration, asthey hadbeensomeyearsago.

“Excuseme?” TheoldmanlookedupatChris.“Hellothere.” “Hi.Ihadcalledearlier.Aboutthe–“ “Ah,right.Comein.” Chriswalkedtowardsthetrunk.Helookedaroundtoseeiftherewasanotherchairbutsawno

otherfurnitureexceptasteelcupboardinacorner. “Whatsyo’ name,youngman?” “CristoforoMarino,”Chrisanswered,handingthemanbothenvelopes. “Italian?” “Yes.” “Ilikethat,kid.Mosto’ emCristoforosbecomeChistopherswhene’ gethere.” Heextractedaninstrumentfromwhatseemedtobeacompartmentonhissideofthetrunk,and loudlystampedthefirstenvelopewithit. “MywifewasItalian.Beautifulwoman,”hesaid,smilingandshakinghishead.“Wer’ yenamed afterColombo?Orasthesenewkidscall‘im–Columbus?”

“I’mnotsure.” “Nevertheless,yo’ Englishismarvellous! IfIdidn’tseeyouinperson,I’dhaveneverguessed. YouraccentonthephonesoundedperfectlyBritish.” “Well,I’velivedinLondonfifteenyearsnow.Mymother’sEnglish.” “Ah.” Hestoppedatthesecondenvelope,turneditaroundbackandforthacoupleoftimes,andfinally placedanotherloudstamponthebottomrightcorner. “‘Ereyougo.Alldone.” “Thankyouverymuch,Sir.Haveagoodday.” “Cheers!”

Chrisplacedtheenvelopesintheinsidepocketofhiscoatandwentbackupthestairs.Thesky wasgreybutithadn’trained.HewalkedforfiveminutesbeforehespottedKathystandingoutsideacafé calledBonBon.Shewasdressedinaredcoatandherhairwasdoneupinatightbun.Hebeamed.Kathy hadjustonlysaid“hi”beforeChrisliftedheroffthegroundwithahug.Hekissedherandbroughther backdown. “Youlookstunning.” “Thankyou.Youlookyummyyourself.” Helaughed,andtookoutthetwoenvelopestohandthemtoher. Sheclappedherhandsquickly withexcitement.“Ohyay!”

Kathystaredcarefullyatthetwocirclesonthebottomrightcornersofbothenvelopes.Theywere thinlyoutlinedinblackink,withanintricatepatterninside. “Ican’tbelievetheyapprovedthedesign!” “Theyhadto.Itwastoobeautiful.” “Didyouhaveanytroubleatall?”

“Nonewhatsoever.Ididexpectabigoffice,though.” “Yeah,it’sasmallplace. AndMrSimpkinsisanadorableoldman,isn’the?Whowould’ve thoughtthatLondonhadastampparlour?It’ssowonderful.Atinyroomdedicatedonlytoornatestamps, whereyoucandressupyourlettersandcards.” “Well,atleastthekindwhostillcareaboutmakinganeffortwithhandwrittenletters.It’sarather charmingidea.I’dliketoseetheirstampcollectioniftheyallowit.” “Oh,I’msureMrSimpkinswouldbehappytooblige.” “Nanisgoingtolovethis.SoisStacy.EspeciallywhenItellthemwhodesignedit.” “Isurehopeso.Nowletmebuyyousomelunch.” ***

ThesmellofturpentinewaftingtoBrandon’sroommadehimtakehisheadphonesoff.Hewalked toKathy’sroomandknockedonthehalf-opendoor. “C’min!” “Hey.” “Whatdoyouthink?” Brandonstretchedouthishandwithhisthumbupheld. “I’dsaythatthecolourslenditasurrealistfeelbutoverallitseemstobeaveryrealdepictionof Chris.” Kathythrewacushionathim.Hechuckled. “What?Hewearsbluealot.Andyoushouldn’tbeaskingmeaboutmodernart.Orartatall.”

“Hedoesnotwearbluealot.He’sprobablyinbluebychance,wheneveryou’vemethim.” Sheaddedafewcarefulstrokestothesixteen-by-sixteencanvasandwipedherhandswitha crumpledgreycloththathadbeenmadecolourfulwithspecksofdifferentpaint.Brandonseemeduneasy. “Oh,umm.Imeanttotellyousomething.” “Whatisit?”shesaid,tiltingherheadtoexamineherwork. “IbumpedintoJon.” Kathystraightenedherhead.“So?” “Heaskedmeaboutyou.” SheturnedaroundtolookatBrandon.“Andyoustoppedtotalktohimbecause?”

“Ididn’tstop! Iwasatthepubwithmyfriendsandhecameovertome.HeaskedhowIwas doing,andthenaboutyou.” “Ireallycouldnotcareless,Brandon.” “Hewasyourworldatonepoint,Kathy.I’mhappythatyou’vemovedon.Reallyhappy.Chrisis agreatguy.Butyou’vegottostoprunningawayfromJon.”

“Doyouexpectmetobefriendswithhim?” “No,Idon’tmeanthat.Butmaybe,youcouldforgivehim.Notforhim,butforyou.” “Youkidsreadtoomuchcrapontheinternetthesedays.” “Youknowyouhaven’tstillforgivenhim.AnditmakesyoudoubtthatChris might–” “Idon’tdoubtChris.” “Really?” Kathyfellsilent. “Kathy,Chrisandyouarewonderfultogether.Don’tpunishhimforwhatJondid.IknowChris’ familylovesyoubuteveniftheydidn’t,I’msurehe’dhavetheballstostandupforyou.”

Gabrielleknockedonthedoor.“AmIinterrupting?” “No,mum,”Kathyanswered. “IoverheardsomethingaboutJonandChris.” “Brando-doodle-doowassubjectedtotheblasphemythatisJonDavies.That’sall.” Gabriellesighed.“I’llleaveyoutwotoit.” Assoonashermotherleft,KathyturnedtoBrandonandsaid,“Don’tevencompareChristoJon. Jon’sacoward.Iwould’vegivenmylifeforhim.Hisfamilyhadalwaysbeenhypnotisedbythegreen stuff.TheythoughtIcouldn’taffordaDiororwhateverjustbecauseIchosetospendmymoneyona mealoratrip.ButIthoughtthathewasdifferent,despitehiswillingnesstospendfourhundredquidona belt.AndIwasprovenwrong.Hedidendupgettingmarriedtohisfather’sbestfriend’sdaughter.Who

livesinamansionthat’sfivetimesbiggerthanhis?Hah.Whatabloodycliché!” Brandonsteppedtowardshissisterandgaveherahug.“Thisiswhatyoushouldletgoof.The bitterness.Lethimactuallynotmatter.Andthatwillonlyhappenthedayyouforgivehim.” “Idon’tseeanyformofabandonmentasforgivable.” *** TwentypeoplehadgatheredintheSmiths’ livingroomtocelebrateGabrielle’sfifty-fifthbirthday. ChrishadbeentryingtogetholdofKathysincehehadarrived.Shewasshufflinginandoutofthe kitchen,servingtheguestsfreshlypreparedcanapés.Chrisscooteduptoherandliftedaminiricottamushroom-and-spinachtartoffthetray.

“Thankyou,”hesaidgrinning. “I’msosorry.Thisisthelastbatch,Ipromise.” “Comequick.Idon’twantyourdadtopourmeasixthglassofwine.It’sonly9pm!” TheybothgiggledandKathywentofftohandouttheremainingtarts.ShereturnedtoChrisafew minuteslater,andslippedherarmthroughhis.

“Hello.” “Finally.Let’sgooutside.” Theywalkedintothegarden.ChrisgentlymovedKathytofacehimandextractedafoldedpaper fromhispocket.Shelookedathimlovingly.Heclearedhisthroat. “Herbrownhairsettlesonsoftcashmere likesnowonflowerbedsoutsideawindow. Herlipsspreadtorevealaglitteringsmile likesoftpinkcurtainsdrawntomorninglight. Hereyeslookatmewithsilentexpectation. I’llfulfileveryexpectation,everywhim;

takehertowhitebeachesandgreenmountains, holdherbeforeshecanthinkofwantingtobeheld, inthemidstoffog,hailorevensunshine. I’llstayupwhenshewantstopaintuntil6am refillingourmatchingpairofteacupseveryhour, putapillowunderherheadbeforeittouchesthebed. Anhourwithoutherisdifficult,alifetimeunimaginable. She’sthewineeveryconnoisseurhasasoftspotfor. She’smine,likesandinseparablybelongstothesea” Hepaused.

“Willshespendtherestofherlifewithme?” Kathy’smouthopenedslightlyandstoppedmid-waytoasmile.Chrisliftedhiseyestolookather, hisheadstillbentdowntothepaper.“KatherineSmith,willyoumarryme?”hesaid. “Sayyes!”BrandonandStacyshoutedinchorus.Theyhadcomeouttocheckontheneighbours’ housebecausetheywereawayfortheweek. “Ineverthoughtmybrotherhaditinhim,”addedStacy. Kathywastoostunnedtospeak.ShelookedatBrandonandStacy,andthenbackatChris.“You… wanttomarryme?” “That’swhatthequestionusuallymeans,”Chrissaid.

ShehuggedChrissohardthathealmosttoppledbackwards.“Yes!” BrandonandStacycheered.IttookawhileforKathytobelievewhathadhappenedwasreal. Sinceshealwaysfoundherselffallingforthewrongmen,shehadpreparedalittletestinhermindtwo yearsago.Shehadtoldherselfthatshewouldnotdoubtthesincerityofanymanwhowouldcomposea poemforher. Itwastobeanindicationforherwhenamanwas the one.

Assoonassherecoveredfromthesurprise,KathyhuggedBrandonandStacy,whointurnhugged Chris.WhensheandChriswereleftaloneagain,theysatonthestepsoutsidethefrontdoor.Hisheadwas onhershoulder.Shetookoutherphonefromherpocket,anderasedtheunsenttextmessagetoJonthat said,“Stoptryingtogetintouchwithme.Pleasestayoutofmylife”.Shehadfinallyworkedoutthatit wasn’tonlyherwhohadlosthim;hehadlosthertoo.