Good Indian Girls: Stories by Ranbir Singh Sidhu Page B

life was coming to an end and this was all, this wasteland of an apartment, this unmarried life, childless. Who had she ever cared for? What accomplishments did she leave behind, what unspoken mercies done for strangers? She remembered the instructor at the class that evening. Lovedeep suddenly wanted to go to India, she wanted to go to many places. Maybe she could make a deal. Travel six months, a year, come back to this very room, exactly as they were here. She wanted so much to leave something behind. But no. All hope left her. If she had never done anything, how could she expect to now. Ian, she knew, understood this.
    Lovedeep was crying again. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse.
    “Time to take off the belt,” Ian said.
    She stood shakily and untied the belt from her waist and held it out, feeling stupid, her knees weak, thinking how surprisingly gentle he was, that such a gentle man could not be about to kill her. But that if he did, and she was sure he was going to, for why else was he here, she would die at the hands of a gentle man, this man.
    “You don’t hate me, do you?” she said.
    He was tearing open the plastic wrapping of a new videotape.
    “Yes,” he said. “I do.” He added, softly, “Don’t take it personally, it’s women.”
    He pressed a button on the camera and the old tape popped out. He replaced it with the blank one.
    “I like using a fresh tape. Nowadays these tapes go on for hours. I only use a few minutes. It’s a waste. I’m just no good at breaking habits.” He turned to her, eyes blank. “I’ll use the belt. I haven’t done that in a while. The last two I used my hands.”
    She liked the idea of his hands. It was intimate. Perhaps he would change his mind at the last moment.
    “I’ll be on cable,” Lovedeep said, then she let out a low-pitched scream and dropped to her knees.
    He stared down at her with disinterest. “I thought you were going to be a good girl.”
    Lovedeep pressed her fingers into her mouth.
    “I’m sorry. I will. I’ll be a good girl. Promise.”
    He held out a hand. “Here.” He helped Lovedeep to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her waist and rested his face against hers. She could feel the hard brush of his stubble and smell him. He smelt of glue and something burning, a fire, old ashes.
    “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’ll be over quickly. You’ve been good so far.” He added, “Can I tell you a secret?”
    “Yes?”
    “You’ve been the best. I’ve never had one like you. I couldn’t dream of a better one. Your parents raised you well. It’s a shame.”
    “Really?”
    “I promise. I can’t wait to see your face. There’s nothing like it in the world.”
    “I wish I could see it.”
    Ian pulled away and handed Lovedeep a beer. “Last one,” he said. It was with great difficulty that she popped the can open. Her fingers felt like water. This time, it didn’t taste so bad. She almost liked it. Maybe she was finally developing a taste for cheap beer.
    “My hand is shaking,” she said. “Like yours.”
    “That’s normal.”
    He reached forward and draped the belt around Lovedeep’s shoulders, then pulled one end all the way through the broad silver buckle until she found it difficult to breathe. The buckle caused her head to be forced back. To watch what Ian was doing, she had to strain her eyes as if looking sharply downward.
    “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m just getting ready.”
    Lovedeep dropped the beer at her feet. She bent her body forward to watch the liquid hiccup out through the narrow opening. What a mess someone would find with the spilled beer staining the carpet next to her body.
    “Did something happen to you?” Lovedeep’s voice seeped out in tortured gasps. “When you were little?”
    Ian was cueing the video camera.
    “I don’t remember much. I had a mom. I guess I got beat up, I was a weak kid. I watched an old house burn. People were in it. Girls mostly. I did some rotten