ONLY BETWEEN US:

Love in a cool climate

Aditha Dissanayake in New York

What do you do when a lady who could very likely be over ninety years old declares she loves you every time she sees you?

a) would you declare you love her back with equal passion?

b) would you turn into an iceberg and pretend you are indifferent

c) would you simply turn away and run for your life?

I wanted to choose c) which meant escape but each time the old lady walked up to me whenever I saw her in her garden on my way to the Pomonoc library, stroked my arm and talked to me in a language I had never heard till now, my legs sprouted invisible roots and I remained fixed to the pavement grinning at her and gesturing with my hands that I did not understand a word she said.

If not for her great granddaughter who had popped her head out of a window upstairs one day, giggled and said “She wants you to know she loves you” I would have been blissfully ignorant of this strange devotion of the old lady towards a total stranger like me. Did she find my brown skin and dark hair exotic? Is this the attraction the West feels towards the East described by Edmund Said?

The questions remained unanswered till yesterday, when the old lady ventured a step further and instead of having a long monologue with me, which if her great granddaughter is to be trusted was like the kind of speeches Juliet makes when she first sees Romeo, took my arm and led me into her garden.

Nestled against a bush of cypress were the most beautiful lilies I had ever seen. The edges of the pink petals looked as though someone had stitched them with pink lace.

Now that spring was upon the city with all its glory every one was out in the open air, clad as scantily as decency allows. The morning sunlight was hot enough to keep the goose bumps away but cool enough to prevent sweating.

Pleased with the look of admiration on my face when I saw the lilies and my exclamation in Sinhala “Marai” (since she kept saying “no English” to everything I said to her I had begun to speak in Sinhala realizing that it mattered little to her what language I used) she made gestures with her hand to indicate she would like to take me indoors and offer me a cup of tea or a lemonade. Eager to see if she made tea in a samovar I readily accepted her invitation.

The house though, to my disappointment had little to show its inhabitants had come from Russia. Realizing there was no samovar I opted for the glass of lemonade.

But before I could take a sip and perhaps exclaim Marai once more, I heard footsteps on the staircase and a young man whom the old lady introduced as her great grandson came into view. Hi he said looking at me through a pair of thick glasses.

The glimmer of love in his eyes too, was unmistakable and I groaned inwardly. Was he too going to declare his love for me? No. Thankfully the one he loved was called Madeline. Ivan, a Wall Street executive who had lost his job a few months ago, was now at home, keeping an eye on his great grandma, not that she needed anyone to look after her, and devoting all his time to Madeline.

She had been with him for eight years and he says she is bound to be with him for the rest of his life. “She is so cute. Let me show her to you. She enjoys having visitors” he said and led me to a small room, where, on the table in the centre, was Madeline.

“She is a Florida cooter” explained Ivan. “ When I first met her she was a cute, bright little thing. But now she is quite grown up and I can’t live without her”.

Thirty minutes later I leave the Malinovsky household knowing nothing about why the old lady finds me so fascinating, but a great deal about turtles; they live 40 to 50 years, it is illegal, to sell them if they are less than 4 inches long in New York because children may stuff anything smaller in to their mouths,it is also against the law to own a turtle native to New York, such as the mapping and snapping species because their number has been dwindling, and, of course like many other pets turtles too can produce a pungent odour that can stink up any abode. No wonder Ivan calls Madeline his “darling stink pot”.

So, what do I do with the old lady the next time I meet her? I decide I’ll choose (a) as the answer. Because no love should ever be wasted or lost.