The Gift Giver
Bernadette Miller
She welcomed his gifts, although he didn’t interest her romantically. Minoo with his fair skin, dark eyes, and straight black hair was sweet, holding doors open for her, treating her to fascinating restaurants as in his native India, and then taking her home by taxi. He didn’t even ask for sex, just a quick hug at her apartment building stoop, and he seemed satisfied.
But Barbara, her roommate, felt that Emily shouldn’t have accepted the pearl necklace, gold ring, and designer slacks from a man old enough to be her father. Emily argued that despite Minoo’s forty-five years as opposed to her twenty-five, he was a successful accountant who asked for nothing in return. So why shouldn’t she accept his gifts?
In their small, fourth-floor walk-up on New York’s Lower East Side, Barb looked up impatiently from her canned corned beef hash dinner that she spiced with ketchup. “Affordability isn’t the point! It’s unethical to encourage him, knowing that you don’t care for him.”
“He doesn’t seem bothered by a platonic relationship,” Emily said, wishing she were again enjoying mulligatawny soup, rather than another cheap meal. “Besides,” she continued, “Minoo promised to help me achieve stardom through his show business clients.” She paused. “Maybe I could learn to...” Her voice trailed off.
Barb stopped pounding her ketchup bottle to stare at her, shocked. “You could become attracted because of the gifts?”
Petite Emily sighed. “I guess not, but I didn’t graduate with a B.S. in theater arts to become a part-time receptionist. For three years, nothing, not even off-off-Broadway. It’s so hard.” In the July heat she patted her blonde pageboy and swiveled toward the living room fan.
Barb rose to pour iced tea in the tiny kitchenette, and then handed Emily a frosted glass. “Try to be patient. Remember, I’m ten years older than you, and I haven’t given up, although I, too, hate office work.”
Emily nodded and held the glass of iced tea to her moist forehead, refreshing in the tenement apartment with its low ceiling, rickety furniture, and worn carpet. She knew she’d never love Minoo the way she’d loved George in college, although she’d refused to have sex with George because a husband with children might preempt and acting career. But lately Emily realized that a husband could support her while she attended auditions. Perhaps she’d be happy with Minoo if she tried. Except that she dreaded sex with a physically unappealing man.
Of course, Andy Dolan was different. She could be crazy about him is she let herself, but she’s be foolish to fall in love with a penniless actor and part-time bartender. Where was the happiness in their shared struggling? Yet, she also worried about fossilizing her virginity. Once she lay awake nights, wondering what Andy might be like, while Barb, who dated several boyfriends ever since her divorce, slept peacefully.
The dished washed, Emily curled up on the sofa to study Juliet for next week’s class. She tingled at perhaps seeing Andy who’d play Romeo. Rugged Andy, tall and lean, had tightly curled red hair and angular features. When near him, she could scarcely breathe, as if her heart refused to obey her head. The perfect Romeo! Perhaps if she dated Minoo less, she’d at least get to know Andy as a person, not just an actor. No, no, she mustn’t be tempted. Concentrate on her goal: Minoo helping with her career!
The next evening, after improvisation class, she bumped into andy as she hurried across the narrow corridor. Heading in the opposite direction, he touched her bare shoulder beyond the sun dress, and said playfully, “Hey, slow down! You won’t become a star if you’re exhausted.” He paused as they gazed at each other. “How about some leisurely coffee at the corner deli? We could rehearse our lines?”
“Oh, I’m sorry but I have a date,” she gushed nervously, yet she felt grateful at seeing the disappointment in his gray eyes.
He smiled. “Have a nice evening.”
Emily smiled back, her heart thumping. “Perhaps another time.”
“Sure.” He strode toward the men’s room, past the posters of famous actors.
She stared at his broad back and shoulders, a lump in her throat, and reminded herself that great actors sacrificed to make stardom possible. Still, she lingered to see if turn around for another glance, but he entered the room, and she felt a pang as she ran outside to catch a crowded bus. She’d be late again, but Minoo wouldn’t mind.
“Emily, whatever you do is fine,” he’d said.
She couldn’t abandon such a kind man, Emily thought on the bus. Her father had deserted her mother when Emily was six, then her mother died in a car accident when Emily was ten. Shuttled among relatives, she’d grown up mostly with a Milwaukee aunt, so that in New York she’d felt lonely until meeting Barb who needed a roommate. Then, two months ago, Emily met Minoo, a vegetarian, when they simultaneously reached for a non-trans fat margarine and he politely offered to pay for her groceries because of causing her a disturbance. When she hesitated, he smiled and said with a flippant British accent, “You are so beautiful, you must be an actress.”
Her almond-shaped blue eyes widened at his prescient compliment. She explained that since childhood she’d dreamed of sharing other people’s lives, and she worked hard to pay for an acting coach and glossy photo composites with resumes.
He’d insisted on treating her to dinner, is she could stand his company. The following evening, in the taxi, he said, “Undoubtedly you have numerous boyfriends,” and he seemed surprised when she admitted to not having any. “That is surely amazing,” he replied, beaming, and helped her from the car.He protectively tucked her arm under his jacketed elbow as they entered the Ceylon-India Inn.
Later, she wondered if their encounter had been an accident, but she felt flattered that a sophisticated professional, a Harvard graduate, had taken an interest in her and might launch her career. But after several dates she wished he were younger and acted more impulsively, instead of treating her like a porcelain doll. Last week, auditioning for Wuthering Heights, Emily longed to experience the passion between Cathy and Heathcliff, instead of possible wasting her youth on a man she didn’t love.
At her deep sigh now during dinner, Minoo said, “A penny for your thoughts.”” His long, bony fingers stroked her hand on the tablecloth, his brows knitted together, his face seemed even thinner, the chin more pointed. Only the warmth of his dark eyes appealed.
“I was planning my future as a star,” she said.
“Ah, yes, but you must also learn to savor each moment,” he said softly.
“Oh, I do,” she said, and munched a vegetable fritter, glad he’s introduced her to Indian cuisine. While the waiter served pengent shrimp curry, Basmati rice, and pouri, puffed white Indian bread, Emily scanned the small restaurant with its heavy drapes, Tiffany style lamps, and fringed tables crowded with Indians and Pakistanis, the diners serenaded by flute music. As usual, she enjoyed dining in an exotic atmosphere, far removed from prosaic Milwaukee.
Minoo paused over his curry and reached into a jacket pocket. “I brought you a little something.” Smiling, he extended a tiny box wrapped in white tissue and adorned with a red satin bow. Remembering Barb’s admonitions, she started to protest, “Oh, Minoo, you shouldn’t have,” but she couldn’t resist tearing apart the paper and bow, to gasp with pleasure at opening the box. The pearl ring with surrounding baguettes matched last week’s necklace.
“Do you like it?” he said, studying her reaction.
“Oh, yes, thank you so much.” She placed it on her pinkie and extended the scarlet fingernail to show him that it fit. “How did you know my size?”
“Emily, I would do anything for you--”
“I know,” she interrupted, feeling uneasy. She bent over the shrimp, hoping he wouldn’t propose. “But you must realize that I care for you deeply.” He awkwardly touched her cool arm in the air-conditioned room, reminding her of her opposite reaction to Andy’s touch. “I know you don’t feel that way about me,” Minoo added sadly, “but I hope that someday you will.”
She exclaimed, “As a matter of fact, I like you very much, you’re a wonderful person! But after all, you’re much older than I--” SHe but her lip at possible hurting him. He was too nice to be hurt! Guiltily she watched the thin lips tighten, and then his attempted smile.
“Please forgive me for mentioning it,” he said softly. “I do not want to spoil our lovely evening.”
“Minoo, I’m sorry, too...” Her voice trailed off. How could she tell him she didn’t feel anything other than a friendship? How could she explain that he was too old, too thin, too bony, whereas Andy made her heart sing/ How could she admit her regret of not loving a man as sincere as he? Instead, she fell silent. They ate for a while, passing the chutney and ordering more fritters.
“I would like you to meet my family next week,” Minoo said finally, handing her the remaining pouri. “My parents, two brothers, and sister will be visiting my Long Island cousins, who will prepare a home-cooked meal, like my mother’s in Bombay.”
Emily smiled. An actress needed interesting experiences to play different roles. Then she realized that meeting his parents sounded serious, and again she felt uneasy.
The next morning at breakfast, Barb exploded when she saw the pearl ring. “Emily, you can’t continue accepting gifts from this fellow who adores you unless you intend marriage. It’s unfair!”
“Well, I guess I’m old enough to know my own mind!” Calming, Emily reiterated that Minoo was single, free to follow his chosen path. Besides, how could she hurt him when he’s been so good to her? She might marry him anyway, despite the lack of romance.
She busied herself with herbal tea, not adding that Minoo seemed to have a passion for young women. Just last Sunday, he’d mentioned a former girlfriend, about Emily’s age, who’d dropped him, and his feelings of betrayal.
“I would have given Amelia anything,” he said to Emily, “but devotion was not enough.” He stroked Emily’s hand while they sat on a park bench.
“Why didn’t you find a woman your own age?” Emily blurted, and immediately regretted her impetuousness, fearing again to hurt kind Minoo, but he smiled and gazed at a sturdy oak, its enormous branches barely moving in the sudden breeze.
“Middle-aged women are uninteresting,” he said. “They seem too knowledgeable, too jaded. But girls remind me of tender rosebuds, new and fresh. Ah, such enthusiasm, such eagerness to learn! Yes, it is true, young women delight my soul.”
“Perhaps you have not met the right older woman,” Emily said, gently tugging away her hand and folding her arms across her lap.
“Oh, I met a goodly number at my office and art parties, but younger women charm me into seeing the world with new eyes. Indeed, I have not met the right one, and I’d like to, well...” Flushing with embarrassment at pressing the subject, he stammered, “Emily, my dear...if you could even bring yourself to feel that way about me, I...I would do my best to make you happy, believe me...” He gazed at her earnestly, his face still flushed.
Emily frowned. She disliked discussing sex and marriage with him, like analyzing it with her Milwaukee uncle, a very old man in his fifties, who’d warned her repeatedly about avoiding pregnancy if she wanted a career. Mentally she reexamined their age difference. When she’s still in her thirties, Minoo will be her uncle’s age. Clouds dimmed the sky, as if an omen. Shuddering, she turns away.
“I am truly sorry,” Minoo apologized again, trembling with anxiety. “Please forgive my hasty remarks. Emily, I would never cause you grief.”
She tried to console him. “It’s all right, I just want to concentrate on my career, until I am established.” She pitied him, his desperate need to be with her when she felt nothing, and yet she resented his encouraging her dependency, so that eventually she must marry him because she glimpsed no other choice.
The following afternoon he gave her a cool, crinkly madras dress from India. After ordering their tea in a diner, he handed Emily the box, and asked her to wear the garment at his relatives’ dinner.
She held up the flounced dress against the hot sun shimmering through the curtains and she admired the crinkling hues or reds, greens, and blues, and the matching belt. Then, replacing the dress in the box, she worried again about severing their relationship. Better end it soon, or her desertion might devastate this gentle man. Yet, something inside her postponed it, as if she feared letting go of faithful Minoo, and then facing desertion herself by someone else.
Meeting Minoo’s relatives, Emily had felt impressed he the spacious house with its manicured lawn and clipped hedges. In the foyer, she smiled shyly at the exuberant introductions, the warm handshakes from the women with their colorful saris, and the men with their conservative business suits. As Minoo has taught her, she steepled her hands, as in prayer, and said with a modest bow, “Namaste,” hello, pleasing the guests that this demure young lady had taken an interest in Minoo’s culture and coyly still bear many children.
After consuming the spicy dishes, the men chatted in the living room, while the women gossiped over tea. Then, their slippered feet padded across the plush white carpet as the women joined their husbands on overstuffed furniture to question Emily about her family background. She answered honestly, despite nervousness at being interrogated as a marriage prospect. Several times she stressed, “My friend,” hoping they’d realize that Minoo wasn’t her intended fiancee. But they nodded and smiled as if she has unspoken passion.
Still, emily enjoyed the luxurious surroundings and abundant food, and she explained to Minoo in the returning Taxi, “When I become a famous actress I’ll travel extensively to meet the natives and broaden my horizons! Oh, it’ll be so adventurous!”
“But you must live in the present, as I have urged you,” Minoo said. “Otherwise, your entire life might slip past, unobserved, while you awaited a moment that never arrived.”
“Acting is my dearest dream,” Emily protested. “I read Backstage and Variety every day for casting calls.” She gazed at the twinkling Manhattan skyline. “My roles will bring happiness to millions of people, renew their faith and hope in mankind.”
He smiled.
His next gift came several nights later during a taxi ride from a movie, when he handed Emily a small package she had wondered about. Perhaps dangling earrings to match the triple-strand copper necklace. Or another choker. Or a pin.Tearing off the floral wrapper, she stared in surprise at a book/
“Have you heard of Rabindranath Tagore?” Minoo said. When Emily shook her head, he said, “Please read him, especially where he describes a man wooing a woman who tells him she hopes to light up the entire sky with her lamp, but he replies, ‘Ah, but the sky is more brightly lit when you light up the heart of one human being.’” Minoo paused with a humble smile. “I am paraphrasing, naturally.”
“I never heard to Tagore,” Emily said thought fully, studying the jacket picture of a tree trunk entwined with flowers. “Thank you.”
He squeezed her hand. “It beings my upmost pleasure to do these things for you.”
At her apartment building, he escorted her up the stone stoop, and asked is he might kiss her, that is, if she wouldn’t mind.
Grateful for all he’d done, she nodded and felt his lips dryly pressing her. After several moments she pulled away and climbed the four flights to read Tagore’s book while Barb was on a date. Then, for several hours, Emily pondered Minoo’s kindness and her guilt at not returning his love, and her longing for Andy. Gazing at the book, she thought about lighting up her own heart as well as Andy’s, and finally she decided to end her relationship with Minoo, and tell Andy she’d like to have that cup of coffee with him. From now on, she would stop yearning for distant tomorrows and instead seek the potential happiness in each day. Perhaps this was Minoo’s greatest gift.
