31. Mihir
MIHIR
A fter I’d stormed out of my parents’ home with a stinging cheek, a bruised ego, and a broken heart, I cut off all contact with them. Initially they’d called, over and over, but slowly, as the days drifted by without a response, their calls subsided.
I drove past their home, my home, every evening, but I couldn’t bring myself to step inside. I spent hours sitting in my parked car on the street outside, often catching a glimpse of them entering or leaving the home, sometimes a reflection through the windows. Tempted as I was to rush into their open arms and cry myself dry, my anger and resentment always won over the love I felt for them. I pictured them sitting in our home, aging rapidly, without their son to support them when they most needed him.
For over two months, I hadn’t answered any calls outside of work. Tara and Sameer kept calling, and I kept sending them to voicemail. I only answered Sameer’s emails about work, only communicating with Grant and Mike over texts.
In a completely unexpected plot twist, I received a text from Sona offering a shoulder for me to lean on. Replete with her trademark sass, it reminded me of why I had fallen for her so easily. It also highlighted the gaping hole her absence had left in my life.
I’d been quick to block her number so it wouldn’t hurt to decline her call. Seeing her name flashing on my phone inevitably conjured up her sweet face, which I had ruined with tears. I had been cruel and stupid to put that woman through agony, yet here she was, kind and generous as ever. She was a true giver , and I didn’t deserve her. However unfounded this conviction was, it was seared into my brain like penitence.
Then, late one evening two weeks ago, I got a call from Grant, which I promptly declined.
Answer the fucking phone. His angry text buzzed in my hand, and I tossed the phone to the couch. I’d just changed for my nightly run when another loud text dinged.
At least answer the fucking door . Grant was relentless. I sighed and let him in.
“What the fuck is the matter with you?” he grumbled as he barged in with a bottle in his hand.
“Nothing that your five-hundred-dollar bottle of scotch can solve.”
“This one,” he said, waving the bottle at me, “is from my personal stash. You can bet your ass it costs more than a lousy five hundred. And don’t lock the door. Mike’s on his way.”
“What the hell? Did Mom call you?” I grumbled.
“No, your dad did. That’s what got us worried.”
“Did he call Mikey too?”
Grant nodded. “What’s going on, Mir? Dr. S sounded serious, but he didn’t say what happened. Just asked us to check up on you.”
“He has no moral authority to say anything,” I fumed as the doorbell sounded.
But it wasn’t Mike. “Len? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Ah, just what a girl wants to hear,” she said and pushed past me into the house. “Where’s Mike?”
“He’s on the way,” Grant said.
“He told me he had surgeries all week,” I cried with righteous indignation. “Did you mess up his schedule so he could come talk to me?”
“He’s rescheduled tomorrow’s for later in the day,” Len said. “You know we’ll be here when you need us, Mir.”
Years ago, when Grant had lost his younger brother, Mike and I had held him as he wept in our arms. Then, when Mike had a falling out with his father, Grant and I had held him in ours. Now, it was my turn. When Mikey arrived that evening, I wept without shame. Len was taken aback to see three well-built, grown men in such a tender moment, but she wrapped us all in her arms and shed some tears with us. Years ago, in grade school, she had adopted Grant and me as her brothers. Adopted . The word caught in my throat and threatened to choke my breath.
“Alright, enough,” Grant declared with a pat on my back. “Get the glasses, Mike. Mir, start talking.”
It didn’t take long for them to realize the gravity of my hurt, but they’d known my parents since we were little kids. So where I’d expected sympathy, coddling, and handholding, I got rebuke and reprimand.
Grant frowned. “Did you really stop talking to them for that?”
“They are your family, Mir. We are your family,” Mike said sagely. “Shouldn’t they get some benefit of the doubt for protecting you?”
“You might think I am the little sister,” Len said, nursing her drink. “But I think it is cruel to cut them out like this,”
“Why are you here?” I frowned at her betrayal. “Did Dad call you too?”
“Yes, but I only came for Grant’s scotch.” She grinned, and Grant shook his head.
“And you broke up with Sona, didn’t you?” Grant said. I didn’t need to ask how he knew. We got one another so well, it was frightening. That’s why the disappointment on his face cut me like a knife.
When Len left an hour later, Grant poured us another round. Mikey had abstained that evening.
“Women like Sona don’t come along every day, Mir, not for men like you and me. I promised her I wouldn’t let you hurt her, so gather your fucking self together and get her back. Don’t let your ego, or whatever crisis of identity you’re facing right now, stand between you and her. You’ll regret it for life.”
“Listen to him,” Mike said. “There’ll always be time to fix this, but if you lose Sona, you might not get another chance.”
“Well said, Mike, and we need to talk about that cupcake baker chick. You thought you could hide her from me,” Grant deadpanned.
Mike grunted. “I knew this was coming.”
“Does she like you?” Grant inquired.
“Yes,” I interjected and they both looked at me.
Mike slumped in his seat and tossed his head back. “I don’t know. And don’t call her chick , man!” He looked at Grant with disgust. “It’s demeaning. Saavi deserves more respect than that. She’s been through a lot already.”
Grant grinned, and Mike grunted. It was Grant’s way of getting him to spill the truth.
“Well played,” Mike said. “I need to get to bed. I’ve pushed back my morning procedure, but I still need to be well-rested.”
After Mike left, Grant stayed with me until I fell asleep. I had no idea if he’d slipped out later that night or in the morning, but I saw a sticky note on the coffee maker when I woke up.
Call your parents. Call Sona.
I heeded one of those commands. I called my parents and went over.
I’d imagined it would be an uphill battle to convince them that I needed to find my birth mother, but their angst and anger had mellowed. Even though I had done nothing to alleviate either. I had continued being an asshole, clinging to my grudges, to my feelings of resentment and betrayal, while leaving my poor parents alone to manage their own distress.
“We understand,” Dad said and handed me a piece of paper. “This is Jayant’s address. This is all we have. I wrote to him for several years after we moved here, so I know he lived at the address for a while. The last time we communicated was over email almost ten years ago, so I don’t know if he moved or…”
If he’s alive .
I took the paper from him.
“I met Sharda only once,” he continued. “We don’t know anything about her beyond her name. Jayant knows the brothel she worked at, but we have no other information. No picture either.”
I nodded courteously. “I’m sorry,” I said, my eyes lowered in deference.
They responded with silence.
“I’m sorry for hurting you, Mom,” I said with my eyes still on the floor. I heard nothing back, but I dared not look at her. I was terrified of confronting the sorrow in those eyes.
“Will you have dinner with us?” she asked after a few silent moments.
I looked up and shook my head. “I’m meeting someone for dinner.”
Her body perked up. “Is Sona here?”
I hadn’t told them I had broken up with her. I was surprised she hadn’t heard. Sameer and Tara were better friends than I’d given them credit for after the breakup.
“No, Mom…we…I…She’s not here.”
Mom nodded and studied me for a moment. “I hope you were kind,” she said with a distinct sadness in her voice. When I gave a quizzical look, she said, “When you ended your relationship.”
“Did Tara tell you?”
She shook her head. “I know you, beta. Even if you don’t see me as your mother anymore, I have raised you. I know you inside out.”
“Mom, I’m sorry for what I said.”
“That’s alright. You do what you think is best for you.”
I hung my head. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Sona,” she said. “You need Sona. You shouldn’t have let her go…but who are we to tell you anything anymore?”
“Don’t say that, Mom,” I pleaded.
“Let’s go out for dinner,” Dad said to Mom, completely disregarding my conversation with her.
“No, I don’t feel like going out tonight. I’ll make something simple.” Mom got up and walked toward the bedroom.
Dad shrugged. “Well, it was good to see you, Mihir. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I hated you for calling Mike and Grant,” I said, and he looked away, “but I’m grateful for it, Dad. I’m here because of them.”
I heard Mom’s bedroom door open, and I stood as she walked toward us.
“This is Sona’s address in Mumbai. Go see her.” She handed me a piece of paper, then turned on her heel and walked back inside without waiting for me to respond. No goodbye, not even a glance at me before I heard the bedroom door close.
Dad stood from his seat. “We’ll see you later, Mihir.”
“What are you doing, Dad? What is this? Are you throwing me out of the house?”
“You didn’t speak to us for three months,” he said in a hushed voice. “You didn’t check up on us, didn’t return our calls. What if one of us was dead? Would you even know?”
“Dad!”
“Things are different now, Mihir. We don’t know how to be around you, and I can’t bear to see her like this. You broke her heart many times over.” He threw a concerned glance in the direction of the bedroom.
“I was outraged. I was angry and hurt. Don’t I get even a little time to come to terms with the loss of my identity, my person?”
His face softened, but he didn’t concede. “I’ll cook her something.” He looked at the bedroom again. “Let me know if you need anything from us.”
“That’s it? Is this how you’re going to be with me now?”
He walked to the door without a word and held it open for me.
I had come to reconcile, but I stormed out in fury.
As I heard the latch close behind me, I felt my ears burning hot. The anger traveled fast to my head. By the time I took the freeway back home, angry tears streamed down my face. I didn’t know what they were for.
Was I lamenting the loss of my parents’ love? Or the loss of my staunch, infallible allies? My greatest champions? Or was I angry at the lies that had led to this loss?
Was I not supposed to react with anger at finding out the truth? Did they expect me to hold in perfect poise while my world was dragged from underneath me and replaced with a different truth?
But it made my resolve stronger. I had to find my birth mother. I didn’t know what I wanted from her, but I needed to see her, touch her, hear her at least once. Mom’s words haunted me. Sona. You need Sona.
That’s exactly who I needed. I knew she was in India, in Mumbai, and that’s where my destination lay. She was the one who had taught me how to receive with grace. She was the one who encouraged me to learn how to ask for help. I was ready—to ask for help and to win back her trust.
One last thing I did before leaving for India was to come clean to Tara and Sameer. Despite my cold behavior over the past months, they received me with open arms.
“Everything seems bleak right now,” I said after telling them the whole story. “My parents are upset with me, and it’s not like I can share this with ease.”
“Oh, Mihir!” Tara moved closer and put an arm around me. “That’s…nothing close to what we imagined.” She glanced at Sameer. “I was so furious at you. I called you inconsiderate and selfish. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you. It’s a hard truth to accept…but you broke Sona’s trust. Why did you need to break up with her?”
Sameer pulled his arms across his chest in a protective gesture. He cared about Sona too.
My head hung. I had mulled over that question myself for days and weeks now.
The respected doctor who I had called my grandfather wasn’t my anybody. I hadn’t descended from brilliant surgeons and activist teachers but from a pedophile who had impregnated a sixteen-year-old girl. What did that make me?
How could I think of starting a family with Sona when I didn’t know where I had come from? What if the wicked side I had claimed as my own wasn’t mine? What if I was born with that venom, something so vile, I couldn’t escape it? How could I let it affect my sweet Sona and her future?
Breaking up with her was the only thing I could do to save her from the evil inside me. I was the fruit of a poisoned tree.
“I wasn’t thinking straight,” I offered.
“Yeah, that was a big mistake,” Tara pointed out matter-of-factly. “Let me make you some coffee.”
“No, I need to leave for a meeting,” I said and stood.
“Sameer.” I gave him a tight hug.
“I’m sorry, man!” he said in my ear. “We’re here for you.”
“Thank you, Tara. I’m glad Sameer chose you.” I gathered her in a big hug.
She patted my back. “For the record, I chose Sameer. Good luck with your search, and keep me posted.”
And that’s how things stood when I boarded a long flight to Mumbai to land at Sona’s doorstep on that hot, humid monsoon day.