An Untimely Frost

I first noticed Mohan at a staff meeting although he told me later he’d been trying to catch my attention for weeks. We were discussing student recruitment and I’d just spent ten minutes explaining how vital it was, in view of increasingly fierce competition from rival establishments, that we improve on last year’s numbers if the college were to survive. ‘I’ve arranged for a group of volunteers to put up posters in the usual places, libraries, schools, community centres, post offices.’ I was busy outlining the departmental strategy when Mohan, who’d recently joined the staff, caught the attention of the Chair. ‘Don’t you find Ann’s proposals pretty boring?’ he said, jumping to his feet. ‘I say forget the traditional venues, let’s be more adventurous. It’s the only way we’ll beat the opposition.’ He was well built though not particularly tall. The lines of his face with its finely chiselled nose and strong jaw were softened by the curve of his full cheeks. His words vibrated with energy which, at the time, I took to be enthusiasm for his plans but he confessed later were actually enthusiasm for me. ‘I thought we’d try a stall in one or two supermarkets as well, just to see how that works,’ I continued, determined not to be upstaged by this overconfident upstart. ‘How about distributing flyers in fashion boutiques, cinemas, takeaways, pubs, night clubs even?’ Mohan piped up again. ‘Excuse me?’ The Chair gave him a stern look. ‘Will you please let Ann finish.’ ‘Then I’ve negotiated with the local press to run adverts as usual, full page ones this time, and inserting leaflets in the free paper means we’ll reach every household,’ I went on. ‘Surely the best way to attract new students is to go wherever people are enjoying themselves!’ Mohan turned to look straight at me without flinching. His eyes and mouth danced with infectious merriment. People were beginning to react and I was conscious of raised eyebrows and suppressed giggles. ‘Mohan! Sit down will you?’ The Chair slapped his palm flat on the table in front of him. ‘That’s when they’ll listen to you. Don’t underestimate the feel-good factor.’ Mohan winked at me. ‘Sorry. Nothing personal,’ he lied. For of course it was intensely personal. I was tempted to put him in his place by exposing the impracticality of his suggestions one by one but the rippling laughter in his dark eyes flushed my cheeks and quickened my heartbeat. I could live in your smile, I thought. I could happily live forever in your smile. ‘The adverts and leaflets contain information on a whole range of courses plus an invitation to our college Open Days,’ I continued, trying to recover my composure. ‘There are copies of the programme on the table. Please will you each take one and make a note of which days you need to be available to meet the public.’ I sat down and tried to work out how he’d got the better of me. This didn’t happen to me. I was always ready with a clearly articulated response which left my opponent feeling embarrassed and their argument in tatters. ‘Ann, perhaps you and Mohan could get together on this afterwards? He’s obviously very keen,’ said the Chair with a touch of mockery. More giggles, louder this time. ‘Form a subcommittee. Probably too late for this year but you could put together something exciting for next summer. I’ll leave that with you two, okay? Now let’s look at item four on the agenda - outings and field trips.’ He pressed on with the meeting. I left the room in a haze and for the next few days the edges of my intellect were soft and blurry. As I read or typed or watched TV, the image of that irreverent, dark-eyed wink came between me and page or screen. At first I wondered if Mohan had done it for a dare, on behalf of someone who wanted to put me in my place. No doubt there were a few such people amongst the staff. I set myself high standards and was outspoken when others were less principled. Yes, some had reason to resent me. But I knew that couldn’t be his motive because of the affect his laughter had on me. I was surrounded by it, caressed and glowing. His laughter was familiar to me from long ago, it took me back to childhood, to sandcastles and fairgrounds. I recognised it and yearned for more of it and I knew it belonged to me. I could live in your smile. I could happily live forever in your smile. I saw him again a few days later in the queue for the photocopier and when he asked me out I said yes even before he’d finished asking. Over the next few weeks we spent a great deal of time together. I took him to the Arts Centre where he sat obediently through concerts from Bach to Philip Glass and he took me to computer fairs to learn about the latest operating software. I invited him round to my flat and cooked for him and he insisted on washing up. When he came next time he brought the ingredients with him and cooked for me because he hadn’t much liked my cooking and still insisted on washing up. One evening as we sat on the settee, my legs stretched out across his lap so he could tickle the soles of my feet, I challenged him to describe what it was about me that had first attracted him. He placed his drink carefully on the carpet and looked at me thoughtfully with pursed lips and a slight frown. ‘I’m not interested in glamorous girls with hourglass figures and in having a good time,’ he said. ‘Well I’m not only interested in having a good time. I want something more substantial, and I’m not referring to your figure! I don’t have sisters, the woman I know best is my mother and she’s a strong person with many layers to her character. That’s what I like about you, Annie, you’re complicated. Does that make sense?’ He stroked the soles of my feet until my toes curled with pleasure. ‘Besides, you’ve got great legs!’ Mohan retrieved his drink and drained it then reached for the bottle and replenished both our glasses. ‘Your turn. Tell me what attracted you to me.’ ‘I would never have noticed you at all if you hadn’t made a fool of yourself in that staff meeting. Not in a million years,’ I informed him dryly. ‘I simply succumbed to your flattery.’ Who could have resisted? He was clever and funny, had the most romantic eyes I’d ever seen, deep set under lids of smoked silk, and most importantly he adored me. They say opposites attract and we were certainly that. In repose Mohan’s natural expression was a smile while mine was serious with a hint of irritable. When things went wrong he laughed and quickly forgot whereas I swore and fumed for hours. He fitted work round hobbies and enjoying himself while I managed to squeeze a bit of relaxation into my work schedule. He loved people and sought company while I tolerated colleagues, had no friends to speak of and was mostly content with solitude. He was kind and took pains not to offend while I said what I thought and damn the consequences. Anyone could see the benefit I derived from this relationship but what did he gain? Perhaps he needed someone to add weight to his existence as much as I needed someone to lighten mine. Mohan understood, as no-one else ever had, that what others took for rudeness in me actually derived from my deep suspicion of the superficial. Brought up in polite society, I rebelled against the demands placed upon me to maintain an outward show of courtesy and good manners. I abhorred hypocrisy and could not ignore what was being said and done behind closed doors, the real thoughts behind masked faces.