Chapter Nineteen Simi
Nineteen
Simi
This is the first time in my life I’m attending the fabled Gupta Sunday movie lunch.
Now that I’m the bahu’s sister, I’m family, and I have to be here.
I almost didn’t come. I don’t want to be around either Prem or Rupi.
I can’t believe they didn’t tell me about the wedding date.
When I confronted Rupi, her reaction was predictably unrepentant.
Is it really that hard to understand? For one, where was the time?
You were so busy with the birthday, and we didn’t want to ruin something you were that excited about.
Also, if you were in our position, wouldn’t you avoid that conversation too?
The thing that’s been stuck under my skin like a splinter for a week is the fact that she said “we.” Since when are Prem and she a we?
When I talked to Prem, he was so filled with remorse, I couldn’t be angry with him. All I wanted to ask him was if he also thought of himself and Rupi as a we. I didn’t, of course. He’s been so miserable because of me, I can’t get myself to make things worse for him.
Not that it matters. It’s not like I get to see him anymore.
Prem’s been gone all week to Nashville for another work emergency.
I don’t know what he’s going to do to escape his home, and me, once the new location they’ve opened is running smoothly and he’s done with all the repairs he’s decided to take on since Rupi showed up.
His family thinks he’s being extra responsible now that he’s getting married.
As for me, the gaping hole inside me from his missing presence has turned into a constant and unbearable ache. Not seeing him at all is only slightly worse than seeing him with Rupi and having his family fawn over them like newborn puppies.
I watch him across the kitchen as he deftly presses and shapes the pizza dough on the stone.
Instead of the aloo parathas that I was looking forward to, we’re having chicken tikka pizza.
Prem is experimenting with his pizzas again, god bless him.
The timer buzzes, and he pulls a pizza out of the oven.
The kitchen fills with the smell of Indian spices mixing unappetizingly with cheese and pizza dough.
He holds it up to me and I clap, making him smile.
One of my favorite things about Prem used to be how easily he smiled.
Lately seeing a smile on his face has become so rare and so forced that my heart breaks with guilt every time I see him work to manufacture one.
I did this. I created this bizarre situation and stole every bit of joy from the happiest, most undemanding man on earth.
“How have N&N not attacked the kitchen yet with you making family pizza?” Chandni asks. She’s standing next to me at the kitchen island, where we’re both slicing cucumbers, tomatoes, and onions for raita.
The whole family has now taken to using Rupi’s nickname for Neel and Nathan: N&N.
“They’re with their favorite chachi in Baba’s room,” Pawan says, stirring the chai he’s making. Next to him, his mother sprinkles spices over the rajma she’s making.
“Is it my imagination or has your father’s health improved since Rupi came into the family?” his mother says, adding cream to the Dutch oven. Then she throws a look at Chandni. “You’re doing such a great job with the salad, beta. No one chops vegetables like your wife, Pawan.”
“Thanks, Mamma, but you don’t have to placate me every time you say nice things about Rupi,” Chandni says.
“I happen to agree with you. Baba is spending a lot more time awake. And please, N&N have been sitting in one place for such long periods of time, Pawan and I checked their temperature a few times last week to make sure they weren’t sick.
They’re fine. Just obsessed with whatever surprise project Rupi’s got them working on. ”
“Rupi has been spending a lot of time on that. Simi, beta, do you know what this surprise is?” Prem’s mom says.
I startle, not expecting to be pulled into the conversation.
All this while I’ve been waiting for them to include me, and now that they’ve asked me a question, all I do is open and close my mouth like a hapless goldfish.
Prem dives to my rescue. “I think Rupi wants Simi to be surprised, too, Mamma.” Unless he’s diving to Rupi’s rescue. Has she told him what the surprise is?
“Rupi just focuses really hard when she works on anything. If she’s working on something with the boys, she’s going to get fully preoccupied with that and forget everything else.
She’s always been like that.” I finally find my voice, and a painful memory slides into my brain.
Rupi reading up everything she possibly could about overcoming a stammer.
Her talking to teachers. Then spending years relentlessly making me work on breathing and voice exercises.
She even took me to a speech therapist and painted a mural in her clinic to pay for it.
Pawan pours out the chai and hands cups around.
“She’s taken over most of Baba’s care. With Mamma preoccupied with the party and now the wedding, and the rest of us busy with the new store, Rupi has picked up all the slack with Baba.
Last week she was asking the physical therapist all sorts of questions to understand his exercises, and I think she’s doubled his movement. ”
Prem’s mom gets teary eyed. “I think she’s been researching some new therapies that one of John’s neurologist friends is working on.
She was talking his ears off about it at the party.
” She wipes her tears away with a finger.
“Truly, what a gift she is.” She squeezes Prem’s shoulder, then pulls him close.
“You chose well, beta. You chose fast and with secrecy, but you did choose well. May you two be together until eternity.”
Pain seeps through my body as though my bones are being crushed. Will this ever get easier?
Prem slides me a look, and for the first time I see anger and accusation and a whole heck of a lot of worry there.
I can’t be here anymore. I excuse myself to check how far Preeti and her family are and step out onto the deck. The heavy blanket of heat that engulfs me feels a little too much like Mumbai.
Prem follows me out. I should have known.
Meeting his gaze is like being pushed off my feet. I press a hand into the railing for support.
There is so much restlessness inside him, I don’t know what to do with it.
“Prem, please,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say. I’m imagining another kiss, him unable to bear the distance we have to keep from each other.
“They’re going to get hurt.” That’s what he opens with.
“Who?”
He points at the house and looks at me like he can’t believe how clueless I’m being.
“Your family?” I feel disoriented. The anger in his eyes takes over. It fills the way he’s looking at me.
“Yes.” It’s a strangled whisper. “They’re getting too attached to Rupi. How are we going to end this?”
“Oh my god. Are you telling me you can’t leave her?”
“Simi! What is wrong with you? I’m saying this is not going to end well. And it’s not just my family. Rupi is also getting too attached.”
That I laugh at. He’s bought into the act like the rest of them. This is what the Naik sisters do. We make people believe things about us.
“It’s all an act,” I say.
Before he can answer, a scream emanates from the house. We rush back inside to hear another bellow come from Prem’s parents’ room. Everyone drops what they’re doing and runs toward it. Every worst-case scenario grips me. Wasn’t Rupi with Prem’s father?
“Mom, Dad, everyone, come see!” Neel and Nathan run at us, whooping and spinning around like fireworks gone rogue.
I almost topple over one of them.
“Come! Come!” one of them yells. “Grampy has a surprise!”
Fresh panic grips me. Oh, Rupi, what did you do now?
I follow the family into the room, hearing the horrified squeals as they enter one by one.
Prem’s dad is sitting propped up in his bed as usual, but something is very different. He’s wearing a sleeveless undershirt over his pajamas. And one of his arms is completely covered in tattoos.
I almost faint.
“Pankaj!” Prem’s mom gasps. “Your arm!”
Nathan and Neel spin around and through everyone and finally land on Rupi, wrapping their arms around her from either side. She has the strangest, most strangled expression on her face. The boys squeeze against her with unbridled joy.
Chipku.
It’s the one unbroken, untainted memory from my childhood. Clinging to my sister, hanging from her waist. It’s the safest place I’ve ever known. She never pulled away. Not once.
She gathers both boys into herself absently and watches the room for reactions with guarded eyes.
“We did it. Daadi, Mom, Dad! We gave Grampy tattoos!”
“You did that? How?” Chandni looks halfway between horrified and disbelieving.
How? With what? When? Why? Questions fly around the room. No one’s quite sure how angry to be and with whom.
Then suddenly everyone stops.
Prem’s baba is smiling. His eyes are twinkling. Only one side of his face moves, but his smile is wide and incredible.
“You like it?” Prem’s mom says with surprise.
He gives the slightest nod and makes a happy sound.
“You asked them to do it?”
He gives another nod.
Then he lifts his arm. A few inches, but he lifts it.
His wife goes to him, sits on his bed, and takes his arm.
“Did it not hurt?”
Neel and Nathan pull away from Rupi and double over with laughter. “Omigod, Daadi thinks they’re real!” They smack palms in a high five and run to their grandparents. Jumping, somewhat gently, onto the bed. “They’re transport!”
We all turn to Rupi.
“They mean transfer. They’re transfer tattoos. Like a sticker. They’re temporary.”
“Yes, they’re transferrr,” the boys repeat.
“My god, you scared us!” Their grandmother is the first to burst into laughter. “They look so real! Did you do these?”
“Yes!” Neel yells.
“No, Neel,” Nathan says. “Not by ourselves. Ruchi helped.”
Ruchi?