It was a cold evening when I met Anita. Life is based on probability. And yes there I was standing in front of Goddess of Chance. “One Latte, skimmed milk, two shots of espresso and one shot of caramel”.

The girl in front of me placed a complicated order. “Chicks always do that”.

I am happy with one bold plain coffee. But then I am simple and women are complicated like their orders. I was waiting in this 2 persons’ line on Atrium at Bay. There were few people who were running towards the bus station. It was almost 7, and everything was closed. The cashier asked her, “do you have 25 cents?”, she went through her cluttered purse. “25 cents, emm can I pay through debit”.

The cashier was edgy by now,” ok go ahead”. I was looking at her straight hair, and the blue vein, which was passing through her marble white skin and throbbing like a small-inflated balloon. At that moment, I had this urge to place my two fingers on it and feel the flow. “ I have 25 cents.” I mumbled and then, she gave me a grim stare.

Then?

Well “25 cents” don’t matter. The cashier was staring at both of us. What do you want?

“Plain, bold, large”.” I answered handling him a 5 dollar note.

Now the lady had moved towards the sugar counter. “Caramel and sugar”?

Ahh these chicks…

She was tall, at least taller than me. Mexican? Spanish? Indian?

Anything; in a diverse world and a diverse city like Toronto, anything is possible. She stirred in sugar and smiled at me.

“Can you wait 2 minutes”? She smiled.

“25 cents are ok. Come on.” I answered back, playing the century old game of hide and seek, hunt and hunted.

“25 cents in recession are a lot.” She smiled back.

“I am not an accountant.” I had no idea why I had said the lame sentence.

Oh I am,”I am auditor, Anita Atal” she answered with confidence.

“Ah.Talha Usmani.”

I flipped my business card like a trained lawyer.

“Interesting.”

She stared at my business card.

“Earnest and Young”

“Ahh… I had a friend there.” She looked at me with her smoky eyes.

Yes, ”mergers and acquisitions” pay well. I was playing the game again.

I would have never done that in usual circumstances. It was not usual. And I liked the 25 year old, skirt clad brown girl stirring aimlessly in her coffee cup.

“What are you doing at this moment”?

She asked again.

“Working on a prospectus”.

Oh…

“You”? She rolled her eyes..

“I”..?”Looking for you, I mumbled under my breath”.

Auditors, admin assistants, financial analysts, civil servants were like cockroaches on this side of Bay Street. The cut of the coat, the line of the trouser could easily tell the job description. In this dog-eat-dog world, I had met another one of my own kind. I mean, I avoid auditors. I avoid brown female lawyers. And I avoid those financial analysts as well; the women with money charm and attitude. I would have readily married one of my kind, but then I am not looking for marriage. I am technically a married man. In papers at least. With a wife still pursuing her degree on a small university campus. I had protectively placed her business card in the side slot of my wallet. Some Saturday night it could be useful.

“Women and cars. Ah men and toys”. I was amused at my thought.

Winter is harsh in Ontario, the wind kills you. And more than the wind it is the loneliness in Canadian winter which kills you emotionally. Perfect recipe for depression! It was one of those Saturday nights when loneliness had kicked again. It was useless to call Montreal and ask for MAYA. Mrs. Maya Usmani, or still Maya Ahmed.

I avoid her in stress periods. I could fathom the conversation, she would be offering on a chilly night like this. Some bitching about her old supervisor, her students and the load of marking she had to complete before the date. Then she would start about how dull life is here in the downtown core.

After 5 years of loving someone, phone calls and conversations become redundant. We start reading sentences and words of our lovers. Maya had nothing for me to offer at this hour. Not the slight touch of her curly hair. Her tall stature, her olive brown skin and warmth smile.

I can love Maya in my mother’s kitchen cooking for the whole family and comfortable with the family cat. I can love Maya, when she cycles down with me on the hilly paths and laugh on my stupid jokes. But no, I hate Maya right now. Maya with her mood tantrums, and depressing graduate life. The distance in the last 2 years has made us strangers in many senses.

So I picked up the phone.

“May I please speak with Anita.”

“Oh! May I know who is calling”.

“Talha Usmani, lawyer at Atrium.” I introduced myself stressing on the last part.

“Oh, how are you?”

“I am good, what are you up to tonight”?

I hit the nail with the precision of a corporate lawyer.

“Nothing…”

She replied with a cautious tone.

“Do you want to go watch a movie? I have tickets?” I said in a straight voice.

And yes it was the start of Anita and me.

Movie, second movie, third theatre, fourth dinner. Things were running from one end to another. With her there was no effort. No chase, no stress. She was there, and I felt that my business card that evening had brought her. The 4 years of JD at U of T had paid well. Not only financially but also emotionally.

It was like those routines, which synchronize with time. She would meet me on Friday, sometimes at Bloor and Bay, sometimes at Union and we would then plan out the evening ending up with a glass of juice at my bachelor apartment in morning. I would feel like a Roman Emperor in possession of a marble statue. Unlike Maya who was like a laughing living weeping doll, this woman was a statue in my arms and in my life. I had started taking her out on corporate evenings as a trophy on my arm.

In corporate world, the woman on your arm is like the car you drive. I was loving the toy I had won a few weeks back. Maya went into oblivion, except the small constraint messages on my phone and three-minutes-call in evenings.

I was happy and satisfied. Anita was pretty and simple. Only her coffee order was complicated. Unlike Maya who would talk fervently about politics and development, Anita talks about shoes and sales. She was interested in orange juice, where Maya had stood and made breakfast.

I liked this woman, like I had liked many other women. I liked Sonia in the ground floor of my office who wears, blatantly deep neck lines. I like the admin in the compliance. I fell head over heels with the teenage friend of my younger sister.

Women are like wine, I can buy readily.

But Anita was different. She was with me for the longest time. 4 months and Maya was almost graduating.

I was a man living in two worlds and two women.

It was 4 in the morning when Anita started the conversation. I was still devouring her white shoulders and artificially colored hair. “So how many kids do you want.”

Kids?

What is she thinking?

“Marriage”?

“You are not religious so does not matter, right?”

She flipped the question.

“Yes I had been whoring with too many Gods. I don’t believe in any but why?”

Was she talking commitment?

I was silent.

We will see, I dozed off into my slumber after that moment.

Next week she went to shopping, with me. Yorkdale or Eaton I asked while changing gears.

It was the usual shopping spree. In one of the women apparel, I saw the change room lady. How many? She stared at Anita.

“4,” she answered

The lady gave her the tag.

She was hardly 20, with movements of a belly dancer. The time Anita went into the change room I flipped the card again and gave it to the change room lady.

Impulsive.

Non-professional.

I want her, I want this change room woman. That is all I could think at that moment, give me a call I said with the same tone.

Thinking that the cut of my coat, the credentials on my card will move her to call.

That evening ended like other evenings.

“You are avoiding me.” Anita said after a week.

“I am busy.”

The century old trick, to ditch a woman!

The fever of that woman was in my blood. I wanted that change room lady. Not Anita, not Maya.

In the evening I felt a pang to see Maya. What if she is happy in her world?

“How are you?” I called and asked.

“I am fine.” she was grim, unusually.

“Talha, we need to get over with this.”

“Why?” I asked again.

It was shocking.

“I met someone, I like more. And I want to pursue him.” She said with confidence.

I was angry. You b****, you cheated on me. You won’t get anything.”

I shouted and then hung up the phone.

How could she do this to me?

Anita…

Anita…

Let me call her.

I dialed the number.

“Anita, my love can you come see me”?..

“I am with Ravi”.

She emphasized and hung up.

What?

I was stunned. In a few minutes, my world was collapsing over me.

Then suddenly I realized that fate was like change room lady and I had been trying too many clothes at the same time.

The game had ended.

By; Sarah Zahid