11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Mira
F allon sat on the couch, watching Pari play. She peppered her with questions, and in true toddler fashion, Pari responded with cheerful nonsequiturs.
Beau sat with them. He was on the floor with Pari, accepting a cup of tea from her ‘cause she was serving high tea , which I made for us on Sundays. She pretended her milk was tea, and we ate cucumber sandwiches and petit fours . We hadn't done that in a while, but this Sunday, I intended to bring it back for us. Maybe Roxy and Beau would join, I thought, and then immediately shook that off; Roxy, yes, Beau, no , thank you .
I knew he meant well, but it felt like a betrayal to have this woman come to test my abilities as a guardian, and pass judgment on how my baby was doing mentally.
"I don't understand it," I murmured to Roxy when we sat on the porch, leaving Beau and Fallon with Pari as requested, drinking the last of the wine. "Is something wrong with Pari? Is she not normal? Why did he have to do this?"
"He became a parent all of a sudden, and he has no clue how to handle it. Beau is…practical, and likes to have a lot of knowledge before he dives in. He's always been like that," Roxy mused. "It's going to take a minute, darlin', but he'll find out that there is no manual to raising a child."
I set my wine glass down, drew my knees up, and rested my chin on them. "Wish there was. I could've used one."
"Hey, you're doin' great. Don't let that jealous cow make you feel otherwise."
I turned to look at Roxy, amused. "Jealous cow?"
Roxy snorted. "Come on, girl, everyone can see somethin' is goin' on between you and Beau, so—"
"What?" I cried out, sitting up. "Nothing is going on. Nothing ."
Roxy waved a hand. "Well, we all see the flares between you, enough to burn the house down."
I sank back in the chaise lounge. "He's with Fallon, Roxy, that much is obvious. She has a PhD, and…look at everyone in his family. They're all well-educated, while I didn't go beyond high school."
"That's because you were learning in professional kitchens," Roxy protested. "And you got into CIA. Come on, Mira, that's nothing to sneeze about."
That was what I told myself when my parents and relatives whispered about how I wasn't bright enough to go to university. I hadn't wanted to go because my parents had expected me to stay at home—only then would they have paid for school. I needed to get the hell out of their house. Asha had just found a job, and I'd moved in with her. We'd been each other's safe space—she felt guilty she hadn't been able to get me out of that house earlier, but there was nothing she could do, nothing I could've done. Asha had needed my parents to pay for her education.
And we knew that the only way was to leave; cut all ties.
When we were younger, I'd tried to get the authorities involved, and it had backfired. My mother was the quintessential enabler, while my father….
Now, he wanted Pari. My heart stopped. Hell no! I'd die before I let that happen. That was why I'd come to Beau. That was why I'd rather lose Pari than have her go through what Asha and I had.
Beau came out, knocking on the glass door of the porch to warn us, probably thinking we were bitching about Fallon, and wanting us to be careful.
I'd guessed right; Pari and Fallon came out with him. Pari immediately leaped on the chaise lounge with me and hugged me. " Miramashi, ami toke bhalashi ."
The correct pronunciation was, " ami tomake bhalobashi ," but Pari was still figuring Bengali out. She'd heard me say, "I love you," in my native language often enough that she repeated it the best she could. The fact that she was saying it now, out of the blue, told me that something had unsettled her.
Asha and I spoke fluent Bengali, but we hadn't tried to talk in Bengali with Pari. I remonstrated myself and promised to do better. We sang songs, and she even had a favorite lullaby—I hoped that I'd be able to keep her connected through food, music, and language with our Indian heritage. I was born and raised in America and hadn't been to India in years, though, when Asha and I were little, we used to go to Calcutta once every two years. But after our grandparents who lived there passed away, we stopped going.
"What was that?" Beau asked as he sat down on the lounge chair next to us. Fallon joined him, settling in beside him. It was as if she was trying to tell me she had a claim on him. I wanted to tell her he was all hers. I wasn't interested in men who made me feel small. I'd had a lifetime of that with my father, and I didn't need a boyfriend, lover, or niece's father to make me feel like that.
"That's Bengali for I love you ."
"How sweet," Fallon remarked, leaning into Beau.
Girl, why don't you just start dry-humping him, for God's sake .
"I better get dessert ready." I kissed the top of Pari's head. "You want to help me make whip cream, Pari?"
Pari brightened. "Lick the mixer?"
"Yes, you can lick the whisk," I assured her. I picked her up as I stood.
"You should let her walk, Mira," Fallon stated, "It's not good for—"
"I know what's good for my niece," I blurted out, sick and tired of the woman. "I'll carry her when I feel like it. Please , stop telling me how to care for her."
Everyone looked surprised at my outburst. I knew I came across as being timid, but enough was fucking enough.
"I just meant—" Fallon began but was interrupted by Beau, "Mira, she's just being helpful."
"I don't need her help, Beau. You're the one who needs it, isn't that why you asked a psychologist over?" I reminded him pleasantly. "Come on, my Shona , let's go play with cream."
"Can Ghoshu have a bite, too?" Pari wanted to know.
I nuzzled her nose with mine as we walked. "Absolutely. Rabbits love berries."
"And cream," Pari finished.
By the time dessert was served—a fresh berry tart that was so damn good everyone went for seconds—I could feel the tension still lingering in the room, thick like the humid summer air outside. Fallon wasn't impressed, or at least, she wouldn't let herself be. And for all my efforts and false bravado in asking her to shut up, I was still bracing myself for the inevitable critique.
As we finished up, Beau caught my eye, giving a slight nod. I had no idea what he meant by that, but I was pretty pissed off with him and ignored it. I knew this was coming. Everyone always doubted me. Even Asha, who loved me, worried that I'd never make enough money to live a decent life as a cook. This dinner was my quiet way of fighting back, of showing off my skills in both food preparation and baby-rearing.
"You ready for bath and bedtime?" I ruffled Pari's hair.
"Maybe Beau should give her a bath tonight," Fallon, who was stuck like a leech on Beau, said sharply. "He needs to spend more time with his daughter."
"Sure." I kissed Pari's nose, and she giggled. Knock yourself the fuck out .
"I'll help you, Beau," Fallon offered sweetly.
Beau clenched his jaw. "Actually, Fallon, I already do bath and bedtime with Pari," he informed his child freaking psychologist. "Mira and I do it together."
Fallon's face fell, and then she picked herself up. "Perhaps you should do it alone. After all, once Mira leaves, you'll have to do these things on your own."
I held back a cry of anguish. Once Mira leaves? Was I leaving?
Roxy made a sound. "We'll worry about it if that happens. Mira, come on, darlin', let's get inside. Beau, you should join Mira after you walk your guest out."
Roxy grabbed my hand and dragged me away from Beau and that horrible woman.
"I've just about had it with that bitch," Roxy announced, and then groaned when Pari pursed her lips and said, "Witch."
"At least she didn't say bitch," I chuckled.
"Bitch," Pari clearly rejoined.
Roxy and I burst out laughing.
We were still laughing, playing with Pari as she splashed around and got us just as soaked as she was, when Beau walked into the spacious bathroom.
"What the hell was that, Roxy?" he demanded.
"Hell," Pari clipped.
Beau muttered, "Fuck."
"Buck," Pari parroted.
"Damn it."
"Am it." Pari laughed.
Roxy, who was leaning against a wall, straightened while I put the rubber duck that Pari had thrown out of the bathtub back in. I had bought a rubber tube for bathtime, so Pari floated, which she loved as it allowed her to swim around the rather large tub in Beau's house. In Asha's place, it had been a security measure because the tub was too small for those kinds of water games.
"I'm going to bed," Roxy announced, glaring at Beau. "We can talk tomorrow when I'll be able to be civil to you. Tonight, I'm inclined to call you names that'll get me fired."
"Like that stops you." Beau frowned.
Roxy shook her head. "None of what happened today was okay, Beauregard Bodine, and you know it, which is why you look guilty as hell. Now, take care of your daughter, and we'll discuss your heavy-handedness and that terrible woman you brought into your home tomorrow."
Beau sat down on the top step that led into the bathtub and looked at me. "You angry with me, too?"
I shook my head, once again feeling tired. "I don't have the right to be angry with you, Beau."
"Bullshit, Mira."
"Shit." Pari splashed.
"Sorry," Beau mumbled. "I just…I really thought Fallon would help."
"With what?" I asked as I corralled Pari, and washed her face with the gentle lavender baby body wash I'd bought from Amazon. The scent was soothing, and helped Pari sleep.
"Mira, I didn't mean for Fallon to upset you."
He sounded sincere enough. "I know, Beau." I could be bitchy about the whole thing. I felt pretty peeved. But Beau was being kind. I had no legal claim to Pari when he asserted his parental rights. I knew that. He was being polite and generous, even apologizing to me. "Don't worry about it. I'm not upset."
Beau sighed but didn't say anything. He helped get Pari into her pajamas after I towel-dried her hair. It was already getting thick, and sooner or later, I'd have to use a hairdryer so she didn't go to bed with wet hair.
Pari rubbed her eyes as she cuddled into me in bed. I kissed the top of her head, breathing in the sweet smell of baby shampoo, and wrapped my arms around her a little tighter.
"You want to read Green Eggs and Ham ?" I asked.
"Song, Miramashi ," she murmured, her tiny voice barely a whisper. "Sing the song."
I smiled, brushing the hair from her face. "Alright, my Shona ."
Pari smiled sleepily, snuggling into my chest. I glanced up at Beau, who sat on the bed next to us, his gaze fixed on me. He didn't say anything. Just watched.
Everyone in Beau's life, except for Roxy, was telling me how I had to care for Pari from the sidelines while Beau took over raising her. But how would that work? He wouldn't know how to sing, " Ghum ghum tora shobai ghum " to Pari, would he?
Asha and I used to love this lullaby. I remember our grandma singing it to us when we visited India. It had become Pari's favorite because I sang it often when she was a baby to both soothe her and Asha, who was getting sicker by the day.
I began to sing softly. The familiar melody flowed easily from my lips, like a memory wrapped in warmth, even if it held the sadness of everything we had lost. Pari's body relaxed against me as I continued the song, the words slipping into the air like a soft embrace.
The birds have fallen asleep in their nests,
The wind whispers through the leaves of trees,
Close your eyes and drift into sleep,
Sleep, sleep, sleep....
The old Bengali lullaby filled the room, wrapping us in a warm embrace. Pari's breath slowed as her eyelids fluttered shut, her little hands relaxing in mine.
When I glanced up, Beau was still looking at me—his usual guarded expression softened, and there was something in his eyes that I couldn't quite read. Fascination, maybe. Or something deeper.
I lowered my voice as I finished the last few lines, keeping the melody slow and gentle. Pari was fully asleep now, her little face peaceful against me.
"She loves that song," I whispered, running my fingers through her soft hair.
Beau nodded, his voice low and thoughtful. "It's beautiful. What is it?"
I smiled, feeling a familiar ache inside of me. "It's an old Bengali lullaby. Asha and I used to love it."
"Your mother sang it for you?"
I shook my head, my insides withering at his conclusion. "Our grandmother taught us when we saw her in Calcutta."
He didn't respond right away, but his gaze lingered on me a moment longer, like he was seeing something new.
"I am sorry about Fallon, Mira." He put a hand across Pari to cup my cheek. "You're always going to be in my daughter's life, okay?"
My daughter's life ? Didn't he realize how he was making me feel, staking his claim, telling me I had none?
"You'll take care of her, won't you?" My heart squeezed. I could be annoyed with Fallon, but she'd been right, Beau wouldn't want me around. He'd want someone like Fallon, beautiful, intelligent, educated. Who'd want a high-school-educated cook over a PhD? Not even me.
"Always." He ran a thumb over my lower lip. There it was, the spark, the chemistry, that thing that Roxy could feel between us. "You and Pari, darlin', I'll take care of both of you."
I moved my head away, and he had no choice but to remove his hand. "I don't need to be taken care of. I know how to do that. Just be there for Pari. That's all."
I looked down at my niece, her tiny body finally at peace, and kissed the top of her head again.
I'd sit outside on the porch for a while, as I'd been doing, and come back in here to sleep next to her, soak her in for as many days as I had left with my Shona . She was so young that when I wasn't around, she'd forget me easily, I thought sadly. She'd have a life filled with love and comfort with Beau and his family, and I'd become someone in her past.
What did I have to offer her but songs, memories, and bits of love stitched together from a broken past? No, she deserved a life filled with all the luxuries one could imagine.
As soon as the legal stuff was cleared up, I'd leave, I decided. I'd find a job and move on. Maybe Beau would be nice enough to let me see Pari once in a while. Perhaps I could be her favorite babysitter.
When I was ready to leave, I'd talk to Beau about that—beg him if needed—so I could continue to see my baby girl, see her grow up, and see her become what Asha and I never could—a healthy, normal adult. We'd been broken as children, and had grown into adults with a fractured sense of self. I had no business raising a child, not with the ugliness that lived inside of me.