Chapter Thirty-Three
The Rani Deshpande apology tour continues upon my return home. I find Sanju and Nabhi playing a game of one-on-one in the backyard. I intercept a rebound to manufacture a time-out.
“Rani Tai!” Nabhi exclaims in outrage.
“I was gonna get that,” Sanju grumbles.
Nabhi narrows his eyes. “You were not,” he retorts, and the boys start to bicker even as I still hold the ball.
Off to a great start. “Hey!” I say, and they go quiet.
“Sorry to cut in, but I wanted to talk for a second, if that’s okay.
” One apology to introduce another. The twins gaze at me, expectant, and I take a deep breath.
“I’m really sorry about Rakhi,” I go on.
“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.
I was upset about something else, and I took it out on you, which isn’t cool. ”
The words are true enough. Ultimately, my issues are with Aai Baba, not the twins. While it couldn’t hurt them to show a bit more appreciation every once in a while, it’s not their fault that the dynamic has been set up this way.
There’s a pause. Then my brothers shrug in unison. “It’s fine,” Sanju says.
“Can we get the ball back?” Nabhi asks.
“Just another second,” I say, hugging the ball to my chest. “I love my gift,” I add, and pleased smiles break out across their faces.
While the jewelry trays won’t be prominently on display, as I care too much about my room’s aesthetic, they are functional and look exquisite in my bathroom closet.
“And I love being your big sister. Even if it can be a pain sometimes.”
“We love you too, Rani Tai,” Sanju says, the words mumbled given the vulnerability.
“And we know you weren’t upset about us,” Nabhi adds.
“You’ve seemed sad lately,” Sanju observes.
“Heard you crying this morning,” Nabhi says.
“It woke me up,” Sanju says solemnly.
“Are you okay?” Nabhi asks.
“Huh,” I say. It seems my brothers are more discerning than I give them credit for.
I try for a smile and smooth a wrinkle in my jeans as I answer the question.
“I’m okay,” I say. “I trust that it’ll all be sorted soon.
” I speak with more confidence than I have, but it can only help to manifest. I bounce the ball back to Sanju, who catches it with gratitude.
“That’s good,” Sanju says. He nods to the hoop. “Wanna play with us?”
I consider the catastrophe of the last time I dared to set foot on the court and choose to opt out. But I like the thought of soaking in more time with my brothers this afternoon, so I sink onto a nearby patio chair. “I think I’ll just watch from the sidelines.”
In the evening, I rest with tea and a new romance novel I picked up from the library last week.
In the morning, I’ll dig back into my work for Valdivia, but after the drama of the past few days, I could use a night off.
It helps to sink into someone else’s mind for a while, focus on a saga that’s not my own.
I’m approaching a just-one-bed scene when a knock sounds on my door.
With the utmost reluctance, I rest my book down on my sheets. “Yes?” I call.
Baba enters, a vase of freshly cut tulips in hand. Aai follows closely behind. “Congratulations on your license, shona.”
My chest goes warm. The endearment suggests that Baba, at the least, is not quite so angry with me. “Thank you,” I say.
Aai busies herself adjusting the flowers on my nightstand, shifty and avoiding eye contact. Baba carries on.
“Going to and from school will be so easy now,” he says. “You can drive home for weekends whenever you want.”
I raise a brow. “Does that mean you’re going to let me take Ajoba’s car this fall?” Baba had circled around a real answer the few times I broached the subject this summer.
He tsks. “That’s a question for your aai,” he defers.
I glance at my mom, who is still pretending to fiddle with the vase. One of the tulips droops low. She speaks at last. “Get some more freeway practice in before the year starts, and then we’ll see.”
It’s as close to a yes as I can expect from her. “Sounds like a plan,” I say. Aai meets my eyes for the first time since entering the room, and I accept that it’s likely incumbent upon me to take the first step, as usual. “I’m sorry for my outburst at Rakhi.”
Aai sniffs, and I continue. “Aarti wasn’t the time for that,” I say.
“And I should have been more thoughtful in my words.” I take a breath, then make myself say the whole thing.
“But this is something that’s bothered me for a while.
I feel like I’m taken for granted pretty often at home.
There’s so much demanded from me, especially with the twins, and I’m getting really tired of that. ”
She’s silent for so long that I think I must have offended her. But her tone is complying, if a bit stiff, when she replies. “We understand you have had a lot going on this summer,” she says. “And too often, we’re only adding to your plate.”
“It’s more than just this summer, though,” I say. “It feels like a general pattern. That my needs come secondary, that I’m a third parent to the twins instead of their sister.”
I know I’m part of the problem here—I like being needed by my family, and I like being very immersed in my brothers’ lives.
But I want to be involved on my own terms, not because my parents have compelled it.
And I’d like to be treated like a daughter of the household again, not an additional elder.
I want a return on the care that I’m always providing.
“We will work on this, shona,” Baba says when Aai remains quiet. And it’s not an apology, but it feels like a start.
Aai sits down on the foot of my bed. She runs a hand over my leg through the blanket. “You are always such a big help, Rani,” she says, the words soft in her mouth. “We will be better about appreciating.” She squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back.
“No need to do more work for the anniversary celebration,” Baba says. “Just enjoy, we will take it from here.”
All the work is basically done, so it’s a largely empty offer, but I accept the sentiment. “Sure,” I say.
“The day won’t be without its challenges,” Aai continues, moving on from the subject. Baba clicks his tongue, concurring. She studies my expression as she says the next words. “Noori Aunty and Suresh Uncle are getting a divorce, and the news has just become more public.”
I work hard to keep a neutral expression. “Oh,” I say.
Aai raises a brow. “You knew already?”
I shrug; having been called out, there’s no reason to lie. “Kush mentioned,” I say. “Last week.”
“Hm,” Aai says. “I am something of a matchmaker.”
I reel at this, and Aai Baba both chuckle. “What does that mean?” I say.
“Rani,” Aai chides. “Give your parents some credit. We are not stupid.”
I blink very fast, and Baba explains. “We all saw you speaking at the Mehra wedding.”
“You have behaved very strangely during Sunday dinners,” Aai adds, and I recall my slipup at the suggestion Kush share Rakhi with us.
Perhaps most incriminating: “I can’t imagine you ever wanting to visit me at work under any other circumstances.”
“Sorry,” I say. “Hospitals tend to freak me out.”
“And Noori says Kush has hardly spoken a word the last few days.” Aai’s look is probing as she leaves the question unspoken: And what might that be about?
My heart constricts at the intelligence. “He hasn’t?”
Aai squeezes my hand again. “Don’t worry yourself, maharani,” she says. “You will figure it all out.”
With a huff, I sink back into my pillows and try to make myself believe it.