Chapter 10 Simi
Ten
Simi
As we leave the hospital, we run right into a very angry blockade of three Indian women in Dominic’s Pizza polos over jeans: Preeti; Prem’s mom, Tanuja; and his sister-in-law, Chandni.
“What on earth is going on, Prem?” his mom demands, her silver bob catching the harsh afternoon sun.
I’ve spent the past year avoiding two of these three women.
Whenever they visited Preeti and the triplets, I made the effort to disappear into the furniture or into other parts of the house.
Fortunately, Preeti much prefers going over to the Gupta house to having them over because it’s the only true break she gets, so I’ve only had to deal with the situation a couple of times in the past year.
I’m not sure why I’ve avoided them so assiduously, but it probably had to do with not wanting them to see me as the nanny.
I wanted them to know me as the woman Prem loves. Now here we are.
“Holy shit,” Prem says. He grabs Rupi’s wheelchair from the ward assistant who’s helping us and spins it around, but it’s too late for escape.
“Really?” Preeti shouts after him, chasing him down.
With a groan, he processes the fact that there’s no getting away and turns back around. He’s making such an effort not to look at me that I feel the pull deep under the surface of my skin.
“Why are you not answering our calls?” his sister-in-law demands in the tone of someone who’s grabbed a misbehaving child’s ear.
“It’s obvious why he’s avoiding us, now, isn’t it?” his mother says, looking at Rupi, who waves sadly, doing an astonishingly good impression of a wounded kitten.
“Simi!” Preeti says, noticing me amid all the chaos. “What are you doing here?” She brightens. “Now it makes sense. You two are the ones engaged?”
In that instant I love Preeti as much as I’ve ever loved Prem.
I shake my head and pretend surprise. Me? Engaged to Prem? How preposterous! “I’m here because Rupi is my sister.”
Preeti throws a glance at Rupi, and a tornado of confusion spins into abject disappointment on her face. For a moment I think she’s going to lean over and squeeze my hand, but she throws a glance at Prem and controls herself.
“Can we wait until Rupi is better before we do this?” Prem says in a pained tone. “She’s very sick. We’re in a hospital, for the love of god!”
As though planted here by the director of this nonsensical farce we all find ourselves in, an older couple walks up to the hospital entrance we’re currently blocking.
The man is supporting a bent-over woman.
The lady throws off the man’s arm when she sees Prem.
She limps right up to him and grabs his arm.
“My love!” she says with so much feeling, it’s like she’s inside me.
“You’re here. Oh thank god!” She tries to lay her head on Prem’s chest.
Prem throws the man a look that’s half confusion, half apology. What is it with all these women wanting him suddenly?
The man tries to tug her away. “April, not this again,” he says with the kind of exhaustion that I feel deeply. So deeply.
April grips Prem’s hand with renewed desperation. “But I can’t leave him. I just found him again.” She sounds so sad, everyone looks suspended between horror and laughter.
“Move along, Mr. and Mrs. Bigly.” The ward assistant regains control of Rupi’s wheelchair and directs the couple through the hospital doors.
The sound of a guffaw gets everyone’s attention.
Rupi is laughing so hard, tears run down her cheeks.
Just as the others start to crack, she turns her laugh into a cough, then lets the cough rise in slow, delicate bursts.
She had no respiratory symptoms until now, but as her cough turns into choking, even I believe she’s in respiratory distress.
Prem squats in front of her. “You okay?” Dear god, our acting condition has infected him.
She catches her breath with some difficulty. “I’m fine,” she rasps in the most self-sacrificing tone. “I’m sorry. Can we just get out of here, please?”
Great idea. We need to leave before someone else shows up and tries to claim Prem as theirs.
Prem folds his arms across his chest and turns to his family. “This is not the place for any of this. We’re causing a scene.”
“I never wanted to cause a scene.” Rupi makes the saddest eyes, and her audience deflates visibly.
Causes a scene should be Rupi’s middle name, the warning label she comes with.
Prem, who is impressing me (and scaring the heck out of me) with his performance, glares daggers at his family.
The three women step back guiltily.
“The car is right there. I’ll get it,” I say and sprint to my car, seriously considering driving away from this mess forever.
I pull up to the curb and help Prem help Rupi into the front seat and catch her amused wink. Not for the first time today, I want to strangle my sister.
Prem tosses his keys at Preeti. “I’m going to Simi’s place with Rupi. Can you take my car home?”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Chandni says. “Not without answers.”
“You will have answers when I come home after dropping them off,” Prem says with a finality I’ve never heard in his voice before.
“Fine, but you’re not going anywhere until you’ve introduced us. What is wrong with you?” his mom demands. Each woman has a hand on her hip. Obviously, they are not impressed by the finality in his voice.
“Mamma, right now she’s not herself. She needs rest. I want to do it later, when she’s better. Can you trust me, please,” Prem throws out the counterdemand. Has Prem always been this resourceful? I can’t say that I don’t like it.
“Dear Krishna, is she pregnant? Is that why you had to rush into this?” His mother looks at Rupi with whole new eyes.
I glare at Rupi to not get ideas. Her hand stops on its way to her concavely flat belly, and she gives me the slightest shrug. How can she be enjoying this?
“Can you please not embarrass me in front of her?” Prem says, and I know that the her is not Rupi.
It’s the first thing that’s come out of him in this exchange that’s sincere.
“I told you, I’ll answer all your questions when I get home.
” He notices his mother’s expression, and his face softens.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to be a father just yet. ”
His mother doesn’t look quite as relieved as she should, and it’s my turn to blush, not that anyone is paying me any mind. Prem’s family is obviously eager for him to get on with baby making. And I just set everything back a whole heck of a lot.
I have no idea why Prem changed his mind and decided to help us. I pull out of the parking lot, noting gratefully that we’re not being followed by Prem’s family.
“What the hell happens now, Simi?” Prem is the first to speak.
“Don’t talk to my sister like that,” Rupi says.
“Don’t talk to him like that,” I say. “We do need to know what happens next.”
“What do you think happens?” Rupi says. “There’s only one of two things that can happen. Either he follows through and we get married. Or those cops report me.”
“My god, Rupi. Do you realize what you’re demanding of us?” I say.
“You think I want to marry him, or anyone else? You think I have any interest in taking away your little playing-house fantasy? Please come up with another solution, because I will one hundred percent take it.”
I open my mouth, then shut it again, but instead of responding to Rupi, I catch Prem’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Why did you say what you said to those cops? I thought you didn’t want to be part of this?”
“Of course I don’t want to be part of this. Because this is absolutely bananas. But I saw the cops go into the room, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You should have stayed out of it,” I say, trying not to let bitterness, which I know is unfair, seep into my voice. “Now you’re involved with the cops!”
“I wish you’d just let me run away,” Rupi says, and I don’t know if she’s being sincere or dramatic.
“You should never have done that! If you hadn’t pulled that stunt, the hospital wouldn’t have had to involve the cops.
” I squeeze my temples. The unholy headache pushing out from the center of my head is like a ticking bomb.
Dehydration. I grab the bottle of water in my cup holder and down half of it.
“And don’t blame Prem for taking you into the hospital again. You fainted.”
“You think I wanted to faint?” Rupi asks, and my heart does another tight and painful squeeze. I’ve never known Rupi to be able to sleep—really sleep. She doesn’t trust anyone enough to let go of consciousness fully. Far as I know, she’s been awake her entire life, aware even in sleep.
I turn to Prem. “How are you going to get out of this?”
“I’m not. I just lied to the police and my family.” I watch in the rearview mirror as he types something into his phone. “So, I guess we’re doing this.”
I sit up. Is he serious? I try to meet his eyes, but he’s furiously studying something on his phone. “What are you looking at?” I ask.
“I’m googling how to get married in Kentucky without ID.” His brows draw together as he reads. “Did you say you have absolutely no paperwork, Rupi didi?” he asks absently, eyes on his screen.
A horrified peel of laughter spurts out of Rupi. “Oh my god, can you not be creepy and call me didi when we’re talking about getting married?”
He colors. “It’s not going to be a real marriage,” he says. “It’s just until we can make sure you’re safe. Then we’re getting divorced, and Simi and I are getting married.” His eyes, filled with questions, meet mine in the mirror. He’s asking me if he’s gotten that right.
Hearing it laid out like that makes me nervous and reassures me at the same time. Are we really doing this? Can we all go to jail if we’re caught? Am I risking my own deportation to prevent my sister’s?
“Shouldn’t we talk to a lawyer first?” I ask.
“I’m sending Saj—my immigration-lawyer friend—a text right now.”
“What are you telling him?”
“That I want to get married to Rupi and she has no legal status and no paperwork.”