Chapter Thirty-One
To my aie’s great approval and relief, I get out of bed the next morning before she and Romona do.
My insides are still a little wobbly, but I’m able to ignore that. I can put one foot in front of the other, and that’s enough for now.
We eat a hearty breakfast of roughly one hundred breakfast foods from around the world (with the most delicious hot sauces and chutneys I’ve ever tasted), then make our way to the next store to select clothes for the bridesmaids. These will come “off the rack,” Romona tells me. The moms are sensitive about how much they push me today. When I choose something, they immediately say yes instead of leaning on me to look at fifteen more options. The day goes off without a glitch, except that I’m waiting for communication from Krish, and I haven’t heard from him at all. So much for hourly updates.
My texts have gone undelivered. I try to convince myself that it’s because he probably doesn’t have service and not because something bad has happened. Nonetheless, I can’t stop checking my phone.
It’s late in the afternoon when we get back to the hotel to squeeze in some rest before leaving to have dinner with a group of Aie’s childhood friends. I try to call Krish but get a message that his phone is switched off.
Druv has texted me through the day, checking up on me and sending me jokes and pictures from the operating room. I’m grateful for the distraction.
The evening is uneventful. My mother’s friends are clones of her. They talk solely about their husbands (in worshipful tones even when they’re being critical), children and grandchildren (who are all at once superstars and projects who need daily motherly labor). They commiserate with Aie about my being almost thirty and single and share in her great relief that all that is about to change. They ooh and aah over Druv’s pictures and fawn over Romona like she’s some sort of foreign celebrity. She winks at me and is gracious, albeit a bit out of her depth, with their dated fashion choices. I see it all from a distance. I smile politely when they can’t get enough of how well I speak Marathi and how un-Americanized I seem. Aie beams with pride.
When I crawl into bed at night, I’m restless. I cannot fall asleep not knowing what’s happening with Krish. I imagine him being robbed, then eating something that gives him food poisoning and ending up in the hospital all alone. I imagine him trying to talk to people and being misunderstood, that stoic politeness doing nothing to protect him. I tell myself that there’s no way for Vishal’s goons to know where Krish is, but I picture them chasing him.
Just before midnight I get a text from an unknown number. This is Krish. Power outage in the area. No cell signal. Found this guy who’s got service and let me use his phone. I’m safe. Don’t worry. Met Vasu’s brother. Not a good meeting but have intel. Check with Reva about Pune Safehouse ASAP. Don’t text back on this number. Deleting your contact. I’ll text when I have service.
That’s it?
What does “not a good meeting” mean? At least he’s safe. He’s safe.
I get out of bed and tiptoe to the terrace. The night is balmy, and the hotel grounds twinkle with endless lights strung on trees, their reflection bouncing off the ocean and pools. I shut the sliding doors behind me and call Reva. I haven’t spoken to her since we got here.
It’s midafternoon in New York. She answers on the first ring. I tell her that Krish is in Yevla without phone service and ask what he could possibly mean about the safe house.
“Vasu’s music teacher,” she says. “She was part of a network that ran safe houses for women on the run. Her name was Ashatai Athavale. Her friends helped my mother and me hide when Vasu’s father threatened us. Why do you think he’s asking?”
I didn’t want to tell her this next part until we knew more. “Because we met Namdeo’s son. It seems like Vasu left her husband a year or so after they were married.”
She gasps. “That’s not possible. Where did she go? Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because we don’t know anything for sure yet. We’re trying to figure it out. I promise I’ll let you know as soon as we find out anything concrete.”
“I should be there. I should be the one looking for her.”
I imagine her in Vishal’s office and protectiveness rises inside me. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do yet.”
She takes a moment to absorb that. “You’re right. Thank you. If she left her husband, then Ashatai has to be the one she went to. Let me find her address. Hold on.”
I hear her blow her nose and imagine her trying not to cry. Then I hear her moving around. “I just sent it to you. It’s from forty years ago. But people often don’t move out of their family homes in India, so it might still work.” She sounds deeply sad.
“We’re going to find her,” I say. “It would all be an awful waste of coincidences if we can’t.”
A small watery laugh escapes her. “You know what the hardest part is? The regret. I can’t stop thinking about what I could have done differently. Could courage have changed everything? Was I too scared?”
I think about Rumi’s bleeding shaved head and the unhinged rage in my father’s eyes. I think about myself on that rock, letting out years of pain. About how I feel right now: lighter, free to be angry. Like the fury gathered inside me is something I earned the right to.
“You did everything you could. You had to survive. You can’t judge your courage in a different world based on the world you’re in right now.”
This time her laugh is a little less sad. “You know, that’s something Vasu would say. I’m so glad I dropped that ring,” she says. “Someday I’ll share her letters with you. I think you’d like her.”
I already love her. I don’t understand it, but I do.
The next morning we repeat the exact same routine. I rise before the moms, shower and dress in white cotton palazzos and a light cotton blouse. The heat is too oppressive for anything else. Then I video call Druv and go to another absurdly overstocked breakfast with the moms.
Just as we’re waiting for our taxi to take us to yet another day of shopping, I get a text from Krish.
Still spotty service. No good news. Vasu’s brother says she’s dead, but there are no records of her death. I think he’s lying. He made Vishal seem like a teddy bear. I’m going to Pune tomorrow to track down the safe house. Heading to Mumbai today. Talk when I get there. How are you feeling?
I ignore that last question, and I hate that he had to ask it. I want to tell him I’ll go to Pune with him. I want to ask what exactly happened with Vasu’s brother, but Aie and Romona keep up a steady stream of conversation. They go down the list of close relatives on both sides, all of whom will get clothes as gifts from us that we have to pick out in the next three days.
Call me as soon as you have service, I text Krish.
It shows up as undelivered.
Our stop today is a store that exclusively sells wedding wear for men. The first thing they show us is a yellow sherwani, and I send a picture to Druv.
He insists he must have it. We choose it for the haldi, which is going to be a daytime event. We pick out all Druv’s outfits and also those for his best man and four groomsmen.
“I need one more sherwani,” I say to the salesperson. “In shades of powder blue that match my bridesmaids’ colors.”
“Who’s that for?” Romona asks.
“My brother, Rumi.”
Aie’s body goes very still. She glares daggers at me over Romona’s shoulder.
“Of course,” Romona says, hiding her confusion. My parents’ estranged-black-sheep narrative has made it easy for everyone to act like Rumi doesn’t exist. “I’m so glad he’ll be able to join us.”
“Yes,” I say. “We weren’t sure if he and his fiancé were going to be able to make it, but they are.”
Aie looks like she might spontaneously combust.
“Do we need to get his fiancée something too?” Romona asks kindly.
“Oh, look at this,” Aie says a little too loudly. “Do we want to send a picture of this one to Druv? I like it better than the navy one we got him for the sangeet.”
“I’m not sure what Rumi’s fiancé will want to wear,” I say. “I’ll take some pictures for him today, and we’ll see. He’s something of a fashion icon, so he might want to choose his own clothes. Rumi is easier. I know what he’ll like. So let’s get that.”
Aie makes a strangled sound.
“I didn’t realize Rumi was engaged to a man,” Romona says, making the effort to not sound judgmental.
“I think Saket identifies as nonbinary,” I say.
“Oh,” Romona says.
“You know kids these days. All sorts of phases they go through,” Aie says, making a valiant effort to hide her panic and failing. “I’m sure they won’t actually come to the wedding. Rumi’s always been unpredictable.”
“They’re coming to the wedding,” I say with some finality. “Druv was upset that they weren’t going to,” I add.
They both look like that settles it, and I don’t know what comes over me. “Actually, that’s not true. Druv isn’t the one who was upset. I don’t want to get married without my twin brother there.”
Aie and Romona exchange glances.
“Are you still feeling sick?” Aie says. “Maybe we should go back to the hotel so you can get some rest.”
“I think I do want to go back to the hotel, Aie. But first I’m going to pick a sherwani for Rumi.”
“Of course,” Romona says and starts filing through the hangers.
Aie remains silent and leans into her cane.
He’s your child! I want to scream at her. But I mirror her and ignore her. A radical act for me. I select two powder blue sherwanis, one with silver flowers and the other with pearlescent beads. I send Rumi and Saket pictures of both, asking them to choose. I can imagine Saket’s delight, and it makes me smile. I can imagine Rumi and him endlessly dissecting which one to go with, and my heart feels even lighter. I text them to let me know soon and also send me measurements, because all the clothes will be custom tailored and shipped to America in two weeks.
Aie and I ignore each other until we get back to the suite. Romona has taken her cue and hung back at the lobby shops to buy a gift for the cousin we’re visiting tonight.
“What was that?” Aie says as soon as the door to the suite closes behind us.
I finally say it. “He’s your child, Aie!” I’m done skirting around the issue. I want to dive straight into the heart of it.
She steps back in shock. Her surprise makes me sick to my stomach.
“Not anymore.”
“I don’t think that’s how having children works. You gave birth to us, you raised us. You can’t just give us back because we’re not exactly what you wanted.”
“Where is this ‘us’ business coming from? Your baba and I have always supported you, no matter what you’ve done. Has your brother turned your head so much that you’ve forgotten what we’ve done for you?”
I have a soul-deep urge to scream. If I let it out now, I’ll never be able to stop.
“I was assaulted, Aie! I did nothing wrong except leave my house. At seventeen. I should have known how to leave the house. I should have known how to navigate the simple act of going to a party. What to do if I was in danger. Taking care of the pregnancy and encouraging me never to leave the house again until it was to marry a man of your choosing wasn’t something you did for me. It was something you did for you.”
She steps up to me and raises her hand. I’m so angry I grab it and push it away.
She stumbles back and starts crying. There’s horror on her face, but I’m the one who’s horrified by what I just did and by the fact that my mother thinks slapping me is the answer to anything.
“I knew we should not have let you go to New York. Don’t you see he just wants to destroy your life the way he’s destroyed his own?”
“The only part of his life that’s destroyed is you and Baba. The rest of his life is beautiful!”
“Does this have to do with that boy Krish? Who has been filling your head with this nonsense?”
“What part of this is nonsense? That my brother, your son, should be at my wedding?”
“Don’t you think I want that? But how is it possible? How can we let him shame us in public by doing those things? Already, I don’t know what Romona is thinking. You shouldn’t have said what you said in front of her without warning me.”
“Aie, he isn’t doing anything. Saket and he love each other.”
She presses her hands to her ears, dramatic as ever. “How dare you speak that person’s name around me? There is no way on earth Rumi can bring another boy to the wedding.” She looks like she’s going to throw up. It’s the same sickened face I saw on Vishal Sawant in that trailer. “Your dad will kill them. Or die himself.”
“What about you? Why is it always about Baba? You are our mother. Why does Baba come between you and every feeling you have about us?”
She closes her eyes and says a desperate prayer. “God is punishing us for leaving our family and moving to a different country. If we’d raised you children in India, this would never have happened. My mother told me that if I abandoned her, my children would abandon me too. It’s a curse.”
“Aie, stop. Rumi isn’t the one who abandoned you. You’re the one who abandoned him. This has nothing to do with where we grew up.”
“It does. Such dirty things don’t happen here in India.”
That’s it. That’s all I can take. I have to get away from her. “I don’t know much,” I say, “but I do know that nothing about Rumi and Saket’s love is dirty. They’re beautiful together. Also, not only does it happen in India, but it happens in every corner of the world, and it has forever, because it’s human. Tens of thousands of people attend pride parades in Mumbai every year. It’s people like you who’ve been trained to think it’s wrong and forced people to hide. It’s people like you who have turned everything ugly.” I open the door to leave. Romona is standing outside the door.
“Where are you going?” Aie says behind me.
“I need some air.”
“But we have to go to Druv’s uncle’s for dinner,” Aie says.
Romona studies me.
“I don’t feel great. I’m not up for a dinner party.”
Romona steps into the room where Aie can see her and touches my forehead. “Are you feeling sick again?”
I shake my head. “I’m just exhausted. I’m sorry to miss it.”
“You won’t be missing anything. My cousin is a world-class bore,” she says with a wink.
Aie’s gaze bounces from me to Romona with abject apology. “I don’t know what’s come over her. I’m sure she’ll be fine when we’re back in Naperville. I think she misses Druv.” She rushes to me and puts an arm on my shoulder. “There, there. Come on. Come inside, drink some chai, and get dressed. Let’s go.”
I remove her arm from around me, gently but firmly. “I said I need air, Aie, and I’m not going.” With that I turn to Romona and squeeze her hand. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
All my life my parents have been lovely to everyone else and terrible to Rumi and me. Am I doing that same thing?
“Don’t say that, honey. Weddings are overwhelming. Our culture doesn’t make it easy. There’s too many people’s feelings to consider. Just know that you come first. It’s your day.” She smiles. “Well, your four days.”
I hug her. My heart is filled with affection for her and deep envy for Druv and Ariana. Surely it isn’t hard to be a parent who doesn’t put what they want first all the time.
I turn to my mother. “Also, I’m going to Pune tomorrow to take care of something.”
“Pune!” both moms say together.
I guess now’s as good a time as any to lay it all out there. “There’s something I didn’t tell you. Remember that ring I found in New York? I found the woman it belonged to. Turns out it used to belong to another woman who is missing. A journalist friend and I have been trying to track her down here in India.”
Romona steps back in shock.
“It was a coincidence, a sign. I’m here anyway, and this is a person who shouldn’t have been forgotten. We have a lead in Pune. You can choose the gifts for the guests tomorrow. Please. I love everything you two pick. It’s just one day.”
We have two more days of shopping left, after which Romona is going to Delhi for a week and Aie and I are going to visit her sister in Nagpur. Then we’re heading back home.
“You cannot go traipsing off in a foreign country with some man three months before your wedding,” Aie says, looking horrified at having to say it in front of Druv’s mother.
Now it’s a foreign country? Until five minutes ago it was the home she should have raised me in. My weariness turns heavy.
“There won’t be a wedding if I don’t do this, Aie,” I say, because it’s the only thing I can think of that will get her to back off. “I have to go. I have to do this.”