Chapter Twenty Rupi #2
“No. I personally have never had a case like this, but one of my lawyer friends had one where a couple got their citizenship perfectly legally. Then they got a divorce, went to their home country, married each other’s siblings, and brought them back on spousal green cards.
They stayed married for two years until the siblings got green cards, then got divorced and remarried the person they were originally married to. ”
“And here I was thinking I had an original idea.”
“Sorry. Not even a little original. Quite common, in fact.”
“Well. Turns out the quite common idea is a dud around here. It’s dead upon arrival.”
“I thought it was going well,” he says with no emotion whatsoever. “My sister seems thrilled with you. You’ve had quite the impact on Neel and Nathan. You tamed my untamable nephews in a week, I’m told.”
“It took me a day, actually. I think the problem might have been just that: that everyone’s been treating them like little demons in need of taming, not little boys filled with curious energy.”
He looks taken aback at that. It’s so subtle, I could be imagining it. “You only say that because you didn’t see them growing up.”
“No, I’m only saying that because it’s what my mom liked to call me. A little demon that she wished someone would tame.” I hate that my throat tightens around those words. Even more, I hate that I let something like that slip. To him, of all people. All this deadly normalcy is making me idiotic.
He goes back to studying me without any expression at all. Maybe he has one of those conditions where he can’t process other people’s emotions.
“Not that I care. They can treat the boys however they like. It’s not my problem.”
There’s a long pause (another one of his specialties), then he pulls his wallet out of his pocket and retrieves a folded card from it. He unfolds it to reveal two brightly colored, big-eyed figures hugging a tall figure in black. He keeps the thank-you card N&N made for him in his wallet?
“Ever since the party, everyone is treating the boys like they’re gifted artists. It’s quite beautiful what they’ve done with these cards.”
The cards his nephews made for the guests are beautiful, and thinking about them makes my heart do something I refuse to analyze. I can appreciate art without being a blubbering mess about it. “They’re okay, I guess.”
He cracks what might be a smile. I can’t be sure, because there’s no previous benchmark to go by, but it’s definitely a possibility.
“Simi still having a hard time?”
I don’t want him talking shit about my sister.
“This.” I make a circle around the room with my hand. “This was her dream, not mine.” I meet his dark-as-death gaze. “What will it take to abort mission?”
He blinks in shock. Wow, a smile and shock. Maybe the rusty robot face got some WD-40 today. “As in?”
“As in, all this syrupy wholesomeness was never what I wanted. Now that I’ve tried it on for size, I don’t think I can deal with it for two years. What’s the exit strategy?”
“Jail,” he says easily. “Or a fine. Definitely deportation.”
At least I can count on him for answers.
“Probably for both you and Prem, if they suspect a conspiracy.”
“Ah, a silver lining then!”
He makes a sound. I could bet good money it’s a laugh (also no previous benchmarks to go by).
“Has anyone ever made you laugh before?” I say with some wonder. “I feel quite victorious.”
“You should. There are contests. Medals. No one’s ever won.”
A joke. My head just exploded. “So, if they made it an Olympic sport, I’d be a gold medalist?”
“You’d be in the running, yes.”
Is the man attempting charm? Suddenly I want to know why his wife left him.
There’s always hurt on both sides when a marriage breaks.
“My point is, you can’t change course now. Too many people would get hurt.”
“You’re a lawyer, what do you care about people getting hurt? Aren’t you guys supposed to suck on the blood of people’s hurt?”
He raises a brow but sidesteps the bait. “Prem is my best friend. We’ve been friends since elementary school. Long before our siblings married and we became family.”
“Congratulations?” I say. “I want to say I’m surprised, but opposites attract and all that. You with your robotic stiffness and him with all that soft spinelessness.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“The man is doing probably the most generous thing it is possible to do for love for your sister, and you’re calling him spineless.”
“I mean, if you really think about it . . . he would have said no if he could stand up to my sister.” I shrug my shoulders.
I didn’t think it was possible, but he stiffens even more. “You do realize what you’re saying is totally fucked up, correct?”
“It isn’t what I’m saying that’s fucked up, it’s the situation. It’s ironic and unfortunate that I find myself in a situation where the thing that makes the man completely wrong for my sister also benefits me.”
He looks at me weird. He has this way of hearing things unsaid and seeing things unshown.
He knows nothing about me, except, of course, how I look stark naked, a fact he seems to have deleted from his hard drive (and it’s about time I did as well).
And yet, I know I’m going to absolutely hate what’s about to come out of his mouth.
“Ah, so you hate him because you know he’s going to hurt your sister,” he says in a stage whisper, totally breaking character. “Now I get it.”
I want him to go back to being a robot. I don’t respond.
He pauses long enough to make me uncomfortable. It’s a cheap trick that doesn’t work on me. I’m perfectly at ease, thank you very much.
“Fine, I’ll bite. What is it you think you got?”
“That it’s not him you hate at all. It’s all the men who came before him. You just think he’s them. And no matter what he does, you see them and not him. Because no matter who it is, she’s going to get hurt.”
“Wow, you should quit lawyer-ing and start therapy-ing. Two whole professions made just for people like you.”
“You mean for robots like me.”
I raise my chin. “Ah, you do get it, after all.”
“Prem is probably the finest human being I know. Except maybe for the rest of his family. They’re good people, Rupi.”
“Great. You, too, ha?”
Suddenly his black-on-black eyes are all expressive, because I can see them fill with sympathy—my least favorite thing to find in people’s eyes. “Me, too, what?” he whispers.
“You, too, are trembling in fear of me sinking my evil talons into the lovely Guptas. Well, you’re right, all of you.” I don’t care who I hurt so long as I can save myself.
Another long, deliberate pause. I want to throw it in his face and walk away.
“Not even close,” he says in the quietest voice, and it strikes me like a punch to the gut that the thing in his eyes isn’t sympathy. It’s gentleness. “That’s not what I meant at all. I meant they really are good people, and they won’t hurt you if you let yourself love them.”