Chapter 8 Simi
Eight
Simi
Rupi sits up the second Sheena leaves. “Congratulations! You’ve basically handed me over to the cops.”
“You’re the one who ran away. How are you blaming me for this?” I say.
She looks lost, then glares at Prem with the heat of a thousand suns. “None of this would have happened if he hadn’t broken his promise and dragged me in here.” She’s never letting this go.
“And you shouldn’t have told them you were engaged to him,” I snap. “This is a small town, everyone knows him. Now we’re all stuck.” I can’t believe Prem is stuck in this mess because of me. How is he still here?
“You can always tell them I lied. If they arrest me and deport me, so be it.”
She knows very well I can’t let that happen. Not when I know what’s waiting for her in Mumbai.
Before I can respond, Prem’s phone rings.
“It’s my mom,” he says.
Wow. Anagha works fast.
He doesn’t answer. “I already have twenty texts on the family group chat. I haven’t opened them, but I can’t ignore them much longer.”
He never ignores his family. The fact that he isn’t immediately responding is probably going to cause them to send out a search party soon.
“Can’t you tell them you’re busy and you’ll call when you’re free?”
“That would mean I looked at my texts. And that would mean I know that they know that I got engaged without even telling them that I’m dating someone.”
I open and close my mouth.
“I have to tell them the truth, Simi.”
“I know.” My brain is racing. My sister is staring into the distance, jaw clenched, steeling herself against what she’s expecting, which is the cops coming for her.
Prem reaches for his phone.
“Actually, can I talk to you outside for a minute first?” My voice wobbles.
He looks scared, and I hate it. “Sure.”
I follow him into the empty corridor.
“Let’s go to the cafeteria,” he says.
I throw a glance at Rupi’s door. “I can’t. I can’t leave her again.”
I realize that I don’t mean that just for now.
Ignoring my sister’s existence was possible when she wasn’t near me.
Leaving her for the first time was devastating.
It hurt so much, I built thick scabs around it.
Now that she’s here and I can see what she’s been through, what she bore for me, I just can’t.
I don’t know how I’m ever going to forgive myself.
Sending her back to India by herself is impossible.
“Is it such a bad idea?” I say, turning to him. He’s all I have. All Rupi and I both have.
You’re so sure he loves you. Let’s put him to the test.
“What?” There’s an ocean of tentativeness in his voice.
“Marriage.”
We’re standing face-to-face, alone in this clinically clean passageway, the fluorescent lighting making everything too visible. Unforgiving. There’s no place to hide under lights like these.
“Not even a little bit,” Prem says. “Marriage is a great idea. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I wish we were already married. In my heart”—he touches his chest in that way that turns me inside out—“I’m already married to you.”
“I’m not talking about you and me.” It’s a good thing there’s a whole foot between us. If I were touching him right now, I might not have been able to say the words.
The shock on his face is like physically being shoved away. “Come on, Simi.”
I have to take a breath. My heart feels like there’s a truck parked on it.
“I know it sounds ridiculous. Don’t you think I know that?
But if you give it a moment’s thought, you’ll see that it’s the only possible way out of this situation.
” I’ve searched and searched for another solution, and there’s no other way.
His hand goes to his forehead. He squeezes his temples. His eyes search up and down the empty corridor. He’s looking for escape, for help.
“Your sister could go back to India.”
“She can’t. Her life is in danger if she goes back.” Because of me. The face of the cop who’d come after us flashes clear as day in my head: tobacco-stained teeth, back hair sticking out from behind his collar, bulging predator eyes. Bile churns in my stomach at the thought of him touching Rupi.
“She can’t get on a plane without a passport.
” I have no idea what happens when you’re in the US illegally and get caught.
“Do you want her to be thrown in jail? Is that what you want?” I know how unfair I’m being.
That only makes me angrier. I have no one else to turn to.
Rupi and I have never had anyone to turn to. What about that is fair?
A frown is pinched between his brows. This is it. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and it’s about to be over. Rupi was right, after all.
“She won’t be arrested,” he says as though he has any idea how these things work.
He was born here, and like every immigrant child born here, he’s never had to give any real thought to what it took for him to be here.
“My friend Saj is an immigration attorney. Let’s ask him.
His whole life is about helping people harmed by the system. He can help us.”
“Can your friend guarantee she stays here? The only way to guarantee that she stays is marriage. Will Saj marry her? She can’t go back to India, Prem. Didn’t you hear me? She is in danger there.” The kind of danger Prem can’t even comprehend, because he’s been safe all his life.
Suddenly, it strikes me that there’s no way that Rupi left without making the cop pay for what he did. Knowing Rupi, it’s got to be bad. Whatever happened in California has got to be bad too.
Prem looks up at the ceiling. He can’t believe what I’m saying. I can’t either. Suddenly I know without a doubt that it is this or losing my sister forever. “Prem, look at me. Do you think I would ever suggest this if there were any other option?”
“This is not an option, either, Simi. How can you think it is?”
And there it is.
See, your rasgulla failed, Rupi says in my ear.
I step back as though he’s pushed me away. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” I turn around and start walking. I can’t believe what I just asked of him. I can’t be here right now. I can’t be around him.
“Simi,” he calls after me. “Hold on.” He catches up with me.
“What is going on here? When your sister lied in front of Anagha, you looked like you were going to blow a fuse. Now you want me to marry her? I don’t know what is happening.
Ever since your sister got here, it’s like I don’t even recognize you. ”
His words rip me to shreds. They gouge out every bit of fear I’ve always had about us. I never was who he thought I was. And now that I’ve shown him who I am, he doesn’t know me.
“I’m the woman you professed to love. I’m that same Simi. Nothing has changed, except you’re seeing me in the context of my own life, not in the context of your and your family’s life.”
Until I say it, I’ve never thought this, but suddenly it’s clear to me. Today, in this one day, Prem has seen more of me—the old me, the one I was before I came to America—than he has in the year we’ve been together.
Before he can respond, his phone rings again. “It’s my mom again.” He disconnects the call. Almost immediately it rings again. He disconnects again.
“I’m texting to let my family know I’m okay and I’ll call them soon. I have to.”
I nod. I hate Anagha from the core of my being right now.
As soon as he sends the text, the phone rings again. “It’s Preeti.”
I forgot about Preeti and Dr. Johnson. I can’t think about what this means for my job yet.
We’re silent for a long moment. All the while, Prem’s phone pings nonstop. With a groan, he turns it off.
“Do you really feel that way?” he says finally. “Do you really feel like I see you only in the context of my own life?”
“It’s not how I feel, Prem. It’s a fact.
You met me in your sister’s home, taking care of your nieces.
Ninety percent of the time we’ve spent together has been in your sister’s home.
I work for your brother-in-law. I live in your town.
You have no idea who I am outside of your life.
” Ever since I met Prem, I’ve never considered a life without him in it.
Now I try to, and my chest aches. “I’m sorry that your first glimpse of me as myself has been such an ugly disaster. ”
For the first time since we started this conversation, he touches me. He cups my cheek. My entire body leans into his touch.
“It’s not ugly. Just a disaster.” He smiles. When I don’t smile back, he gets serious again. “But you’re right, I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Your life revolves around your family. Why is me needing to take care of my sister so different? I’m the same person. Other than the fact that I need your help, desperately, nothing has changed.”
“Nothing has changed? You’re asking me to marry your sister. I would have to lie to my family, lie to everyone I know.”
“What if this were your sister? What if you had to marry someone else to save Preeti’s life?”
“That’s an absurd comparison. This is completely different. You’re asking me to commit a crime.”
“How is it a crime? You’ll actually be marrying her. The marriage would be legal. It’s the only way to get her to stay here. To not be deported. You were willing to do it with me, marry me so I could get a green card.”
“I’m in love with you, Simi. How is that the same thing?”
“Do you think every couple who gets married loves each other? Love has nothing to do with the legality of marriage.” It’s not like I don’t see how ridiculous my arguments are, but every word I’m saying is also true.
“You’re right. But intention does. We were going to get married because we love each other. Our intention was not to get married so you could get a green card and stay in the country. That’s fraud.”
“Actually that’s exactly what you suggested.” I know what he’s saying makes perfect sense, but in one way the distinction is also absurd. “Plenty of married people don’t love each other. That doesn’t make their marriage illegal.”