Free Tea for Two and a Piece of Cake by Preeti Shenoy Page A

our own forever. It is so darn comforting, and I feel so content in his arms.
    Our flight is only for the next evening. There is a cycling tour organized in the morning for all the visiting delegates. The brochure, which came along with the programme schedule for the day, says that one can cycle into the traditional Balinese village, explore the carved temples set amidst breathtaking natural beauty, and stop for a sip of tender coconut water while chatting with farmers and wood carvers. The route is along a mountain trail and is an insight into the lives of the local farmers, away from the tame package tourism that most resorts offer.
    ‘Would you like to go?’ asks Samir.
    First, there is a confession I have to make,’ I say. ‘I cannot ride a bicycle.’
    ‘What? You cannot ride a bicycle?’ He sounds genuinely surprised.
    ‘Most people learn bicycle riding in childhood, but the thing is that I had no one to teach me as a child,’ I say.
    It brings back painful memories of when I would watch the children in my apartment go riding on theirbicycles. I would watch longingly and get teased with taunts like, ‘Ugly fatso can’t ride a bike’ or ‘Big pig can’t ride a bike.’ I wanted to ride a bicycle like them more than anything else in the world. I even asked my father if he would get me one, to which he replied, ‘A bicycle? What for?’, and that had been the end of the conversation. I had been dismissed. I remember the years of loneliness, the years of pain, and it all comes back to haunt me like it happened yesterday. How can one feel so alone and so helpless ? Funny how it still has the power to hurt this much , even when one is a full-grown adult.
    ‘Oh Nisha, there are better things to do in life than go on a silly bike ride,’ says Samir. He walks over to me and hugs me.
    ‘You know, your eyes are so expressive. They reflect what you feel immediately. I hate the look of sadness in them. Wipe them away,’ he says and kisses me tenderly on my forehead.
    I promptly burst into tears, startling him with my action. I have no idea why. Maybe it is because I had thought that this was just about sex for him, and had not in the least expected him to care about me. Tenderness is something I have never had in my life, and receiving it so suddenly has totally taken me by surprise.
    The Bali trip has indeed been a crossover point in my relationship with him. At that moment, I am too overwhelmed, too excited, and it is all too new to even analyse and consider where it is heading.

    When we get back to office, it is really hard to hide my feeling for him from others.
    Smriti asks me, ‘So how was your first trip abroad? As exciting as you thought?’
    Even more exciting than I could ever possibly imagine. You have no idea!
    ‘Yeah, it was okay. I did learn a lot. Made a lot of notes.’
    ‘Well, good for you, girl!’ she says, and gets back to work.
    I sigh with relief. Had she asked me a few more questions, she would have probably started to notice how uncomfortable I was discussing the Bali trip.
    Later, it occurs to me that when Samir and I had absolutely nothing between us, I wanted to boast and imply there was something more. But now that there is indeed something more (whether it is lust or love, I really cannot tell at this point), I want to hide it, tuck away my little secret, hug it close to my heart, and not share it with anybody.
    I try to be as professional at work as possible. Samir is a really busy man, and I throw myself full throttle into my work. But now, on most days, he wants me to have lunch with him and when he does ask, I can hardly refuse. We spend a lot of time together. A lot more than is strictly necessary, really.
    Samir has another trip scheduled to Hyderabad for a branch appraisal visit and he wants me to accompany him for that as well. It is a two-day trip. At work, we conduct ourselves in a very professional manner. We meet the branch manager and discuss business plans,