The Next Life (Paperback)

Pages : 416
ISBN : 9781838164362
Weight : 395g
Dimensions : 203 x 23 x 127 mm

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- Sexual Awakening
- Rich/Poor
- Opposites Attract

This house has been like an empty shell since I moved in permanently. I’m constantly aware of my own breathing and register every footstep I take on the hardwood floors. The weight of my soul thuds heavily, reminding me I’m the only person left in this big, modern mansion. All the work, all the love I poured into it. The open-plan kitchen fitted out with the latest appliances. The glass staircase that spirals so beautifully around its own spine-like axis. The spacious terrace with the long, narrow pool overlooking the ocean. The interior designer I hired to make every detail just perfect, so my life would be perfect. So our life would be perfect. And then she stole my husband. Nothing about this is right, and I realize that each time I look around, staring at this endless perfection. All it does is remind me of everything that’s broken. Everything I’ve lost.
Villa Reina, named after me, used to be our summer home, the place where we spent quality family time on weekends and during the holidays. It was a place of happiness and fun, and wanting to hold onto memories of those halcyon days, I insisted on keeping it after the divorce. I don’t know what I was thinking; perhaps it would have been better to stay in New York, where I had more friends all-year round. Apart from my friend Sasha, no one but my daughter has visited over winter and the space that used to be filled with laughter, music and lively debate is now a hibernating carcass, still, as if waiting for something that will never return.
I open the kitchen cupboard, grab a mug and put it under the state-of-the-art coffee maker. The thought of barista-standard coffee at home seemed like a good idea at the time but now the sound of the grinding beans is killing me, and I wince. Too much wine last night. Everything here is polished to perfection, and when I see I’ve left a fingerprint on the stainless-steel grinder, I wipe it off with the silk sleeve of my equally spotless robe. Nola, my housekeeper is nothing but efficient and although I could easily take care of the cleaning myself now, I like having her around. She works for my ex-husband too, and we gossip about him. Out of the friends I’ve made here in the Hamptons over the course of twelve summers, Nola is one of the few who has always been on my side.
In Aubrey, our interior designer—or ‘Bree’ as she likes to be known—my husband found a younger, blonder, and prettier version of me; fresh-faced and trim, with supermodel legs and a smile to die for. She also happens to be successful and super creative, and with Sandeep being a celebrated architect, they found a lot in common. He moved straight out of our house into the blonde bombshell’s dreamy, bohemian palace down the road. I can’t blame our mutual friends for preferring to spend time with the happy couple. It’s certainly bound to be more fun than hanging out with a depressed woman who doesn’t know who she is anymore. I’m no longer Sandeep’s wife, and I’m no longer Reina, the always cheery crowd-pleaser and wife.
My daughter Nicole moved here with me until she started at NYU last fall and ever since, I’ve been painfully aware of her absence. I suppose every mother has to go through this, and I’m no different. She still comes home on weekends, and that’s when the house comes back to life, and that’s when I feel a tiny sparkle of happiness, see a glimpse of my old self again. When our joint voices ring through the corridors, and her music blasts from her room. When I smell bacon frying in the morning. Her meaty cooking used to make me nauseous but now it makes me happy and excited for the day ahead. I luxuriate in her company when she’s here.
Nicole is my everything. She’s witty, intelligent and very pretty, with her long dark hair, sharp brows, big, brown eyes and full, plump lips. She’s not tall but has this enormous presence—her confidence and friendly demeanor dazzling everyone when she walks into a room. I used to be like that, and some people say she looks like me, but I don’t quite see it. With Sandeep being Indian and myself of Lebanese descent, she’s just a beautiful concoction of cultures, blessed with the best of both worlds.
Our son, Eddie, is amazing too, but he’s more of a daddy’s boy. Sandeep and I were young when we had him, and the father-and-son relationship has morphed into a friendship. They hang out and play golf together and now that Sandeep isn’t here anymore, I don’t see that much of Eddie. Anyway, he’s gone backpacking with his girlfriend, and I don’t expect him back anytime soon. He’s somewhere in Goa at the moment, kite surfing and sleeping in hammocks on the beach while he looks for items to sell on his website. He runs an online business that allows him to travel, have fun and still make an impressive living. I keep track of his social media posts and send him messages every day to see what he’s up to, but it’s only once a week that I get a reply back, and it’s never much more than ‘All good. Miss you, Mom.’ He doesn’t really miss me; I know that, and that’s fine. But Nicole does miss me, I think. Or maybe she just feels sorry for me. No job, no purpose… Poor Mom.
She’d be right to think that, because I have no purpose. Not since I don’t have a family to take care of. I’m not a homemaker anymore, and my life has become nothing more than a string of predictable events and a lot of waiting. I wait for my cleaner, hoping she’s in a chatty mood, I wait for my daughter to come home on the weekends, and I wait for the day to be over. Nicole left last night, and I have to wait for another five long days before I see her and feel whole again.
Mondays are the hardest. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t sit around and do nothing all day; I just feel flat. I go to yoga at eleven am, and after that, I usually grab a green juice with Sasha. Sasha is the wife of a real estate mogul, and they practically live next door. We used to be very close, but now we’re in a weird space. We don’t socialize like we used to; it was always the four of us. Our Thursday cookouts in our backyard have been cancelled, but our Saturday morning tennis games at their estate are still on track, only it’s not me making up the doubles anymore. My ex-husband brings his new flame nowadays, and I know it puts Sasha in a difficult position.
Crossing the open living area with coffee in hand, I grab my phone, open the sliding doors onto the terrace and sit down in my usual chair by the pool. Our poolside is a slick space; a spacious slate terrace with white designer furniture. It’s early May and soon, New Yorkers will start flooding the Hamptons, and the traffic will make it difficult for Nicole to drive down every weekend. Perhaps I’ll plan a couple of trips to New York instead, so I open a booking website and scroll through available hotels. As much as I’m looking forward to summer and having more people around, it will also be the first summer I’ve spent on my own, the first summer I’ll be attending parties and events solo, and I feel the need to get out of here for a while, to get as far away as I can from that toxic, happy home down the road, where I suspect they’re currently fucking each other’s brains out before starting their day—no doubt one that will be filled with inspirational projects and interesting meetings.
“Good morning, Mrs. Kumar.”
I startle and look up to find a woman in a white tank top and denim shorts standing by the pool with a toolbox in hand. “Hi. Who are you?” Shading my eyes from the sun, I narrow them as I study her. “And how did you get in here?”
The woman holds up a key fob that opens our gates and simultaneously taps the logo on her red baseball cap. “Barry broke his arm; he won’t be coming in anytime soon, so Pool Masters sent me instead. I’m Belle.”
“Oh. Is Barry going to be okay?” I ask. Truth be told, I don’t know Barry very well, and I actually thought his name was Larry. Although he’s been servicing the pool three times a week, he’s not much of a talker. When he first started, I offered him coffee and refreshments, but he always declined, so, eventually, I gave up.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Just had a nasty fall.” The woman’s eyes shift from me to the pool, then to the wooden hatch that breaks up the poolside tiles and leads into the underground machine room. “He told me where everything is, so no need to get up,” she adds when I’m about to.
“Okay. Well, let me know if you need anything.” I give her a smile. “Oh, and Belle?”
“Yes?” She bends down, opens up the hatch and straightens herself again, turning to me.
“It’s Miss Amari. I’m not a Kumar anymore.”
“Oh, sorry about that.” The way she says it sounds like she’s referring to my divorce rather than her using the wrong name. “I’ll change it in the system.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that. Can I get you a coffee?” I ask, for some reason not wanting the conversation to end. “Or something cold instead?”
Belle shakes her head and smiles back. “I’m okay for now. The pool looks in good shape, so I’m sure I won’t be long.”
Watching Belle descend into the machine room, I note she doesn’t look like a ‘Belle’. Belle sounds Southern, and everything about her screams New York; her accent and her appearance. But Belle is also a very feminine name, and this woman is… a little rough around the edges, perhaps? She’s lean and muscular, and her hair is short and choppy. I don’t usually stereotype, but the way she moves and talks makes me think she might be gay. Women like her used to give me a pleasant physical reaction in college, and I suppose I still feel somewhat of an attraction to her type. I just haven’t been around women like her since I met Sandeep.
A message from Sasha lights up on my phone, pulling me out of my thoughts. ‘Hey hun, do you mind picking me up on the way to yoga? The housekeeper borrowed my car.’
‘Sure. I’ll see you in half an hour’, I reply, then get up and grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge and make another coffee, just in case Belle wants one later.
“Belle?” I yell, glancing down the steep concrete stairs that I’ve actually never seen before.
“Yeah?” She squints against the bright sunlight as she looks up at me.
“I have to go soon, so I’ll put this here for you in case you want it, okay?” I place the beverages on the edge of the pool, then quickly close my robe when I realize Belle is staring at my cleavage as I’m bending over her.
“Sure.” Belle quickly averts her gaze and looks into my eyes instead but this too, is making me nervous for some reason. Her eyes are intense, her expression curious as if she’s sizing me up. “Thank you very much, Miss Amari. Have a good day, I’ll be back on Wednesday.”