Jasmine approached her make up like an artist approaches a canvas. Her case of pastel eyeshadows as complex as a painter’s pallet. She dabbed her eyelids with emerald green and turquoise, transforming herself from housewife to glamourous movie star
Jasime glanced at the light blue veins that braided her translucent wrists like Ming replicas. Marred only by a faint butterfly tattoo just above her pulse point. Ink so stubborn it resisted removal by any modern method. A dogged reminder of the secrets she carried like a long-buried splinter
“Hey chaaro, our uber will be here in ten, ok?” chimed Krishnan as he popped his head around the door. Jasmine nodded, inwardly smiling at his use of the Hindi name for darling. It made her feel cherished, secure… and faintly exotic.
Marrying Krishnan had been the high point and turning point of her life. A whole new family and a whole new culture. The Patel family had been so understanding of her childhood spent in the care system. Jasmine repaid them by fully embracing their modern Hindu rituals. She adored it all – the lights of Diwali, the crazy water fights at Holi and the lavish banquets. Jasmine even secured a place in Patel family legend for making samosas that were indistinguishable to her sister-in-law’s, but not quite as good as her mother in law’s. That really was as good as it got.
§
The jazz bar was a blend of old school charm and modern style. The art deco lamps on their table perfectly illuminated Krishan’s noble Dravidian features. Their Old Fashioned cocktails the right balance of bitter and citrus. Jasmine visibly exhaled in time with the singer’s smoky chords.
“Cheers to us chaaro” said Krishnan as they clinked glasses.
The dream like haze was interrupted by a flurry in the form of blue hair and piercings.
“Oh my God Chantelle, it’s YOU!!” squealed the woman. “I’ve been looking for you for years. Remember me, Kayley?”
Jasmine looked up and down at the woman, her jaw agape. “I think you’re mistaken. If you don’t mind, we’re having a peaceful evening”.
The hint to move on was not well taken. “Well Chantelle, I think you do remember me” continued Kayley, her tone rising indignantly. “Cellmates from Charlwood, ninety-five to eighty-eight. Spirit sisters for life”.
“Charlwood, never heard of the place” said Jasmine shakily.
Kayley shoved her wrist under the lamp, exposing a pale blue butterfly tattoo. Whilst embedded in a foliage forest of ink, it was undeniably a match for the symbol on Jasmine’s wrist. Her hand was now shaking as she clutched her glass tightly, too late to turn her arm away.
Jasmine felt an icy flush ripple down her body like a wave. She looked up to see two butterflies rise and flutter across the room.
Krishnan turned slowly towards her, his face holding a hardness she didn’t recognise.
“Jasmine. Anything you want to tell me?”
