Chapter 34 Rupi
Thirty-Four
Rupi
Saj’s apartment is as beautiful as he is, and like him, it feels as safe as a fortress.
Which is why I can let neither the apartment nor the man lull me into safety.
It’s been two days since I called him to get me from Simi’s apartment in the middle of the night. I had to leave like a thief while she and Prem were asleep. Because I’m not stupid. I know when I’m on runaway watch. They were never going to leave me alone in the light of day.
Saj didn’t ask a single question. I asked him to get me, and he did. I asked him not to tell anyone I’m with him, and he didn’t. I didn’t doubt he’d do either of those things even for a second.
I signed the papers with my testimony statements for the trafficking case. He worked really hard to get that done and out of the way so I could leave, even though he doesn’t want me to.
“I’ve done what you asked me to do, Rupi. Can you at least listen to me about this one thing?”
“Alas,” I say, “that one thing isn’t just one thing. It’s the whole thing.”
“Fine, don’t marry me. But you can’t go back to India.”
“You know that’s the only thing I can do.”
“You’re a witness. We can apply for asylum.”
“I don’t want to seek asylum. I don’t want to be a victim. I don’t want to count on people’s charity. Not even a country’s. I’ve told you why it’s important to me.”
I throw a look at my bag sitting by the door. We’ve discussed this over and over, and I don’t want it to be the last conversation I have in this place I got to love for too short a while.
Last night he asked me what happened with the cop, and I told him. Even the parts that I thought I’d never be able to tell anyone, not even Simi. The parts that break my heart for the girl I was then.
His reaction destroyed me. Rage, and sadness, and pride all rolled into one. This guy is definitely the angel of death, because more and more every day he’s killed me. And strengthened my resolve to leave.
“Why doesn’t it matter that I have feelings for you?”
Those feelings are the reason I have to go. I can’t risk them on holding him in a hostage situation. The two days I’ve spent in his home we’ve talked endlessly but also sat silent by each other for hours. I will take our silences and our conversations with me and hold them close forever.
“It does matter, Saj. But what our circumstances will do to those feelings matters more. Ever since we met, you’ve fixed everything for me.
That can’t be our dynamic. I wish I wasn’t out of time, but I am.
I want to fix this myself. I’ve learned so much here.
I want to honor that and face what’s waiting for me.
” I step close to him. He hasn’t touched me once in his home.
Probably some sort of ethics thing that I hate but I’m also deeply grateful for.
“You know how very grateful I am, right?”
Instead of acknowledging that, he walks past me and grabs my bag. “Since you have made up your mind, we don’t want you to miss your flight.”
For the first time in a long time, he’s stiff and shut off. Distant in a way that hurts, but it’s just as well. If that’s what he needs to get through this, then that’s what he needs.
He puts the bag down again, and I want to groan. Why won’t the guy give up? But instead of more pushing, he disappears into his room with “I need to grab my laptop. I might as well go into work after I drop you off.”
For the entire drive to the airport, Saj doesn’t say one word to me.
When we get there, he pulls my bag from the back seat, then we walk across the airport parking lot to the terminal.
We get into the elevator, where he tries to step back and give me space.
Unfortunately for him there isn’t any, and our bodies are almost touching.
The elevator is huge but filled to bursting with people and luggage.
Not a surprise, given the world has a stuff problem.
Even when they travel, people insist on lugging all their stuff everywhere they go.
I twiddle my fingers, hating the restlessness in that gesture.
All I have is a duffel bag, and Saj won’t let me carry it.
The elevator stops, and I step out and start walking.
“Rupi. God. Wait. I can’t let you do this.”
I liked it so much more when he was having a silent tantrum.
“Are you really not going to talk to Simi and the Guptas before you go?”
“I told you. I can’t.”
I can’t believe they’re all on board with going through with the wedding. My insides hurt when I think about it. How they’re ready to take on the US government for me. I can’t let them do that. I just can’t.
I’m well acquainted with Gupta stubbornness.
They think it’s just a matter of convincing me.
Which is why there is no way I can tell them that I’m going back to India.
I can’t deal with the tsunami of resistance.
They will use bodily force to get me to stay if they have to.
The only way I can stand up to it is to leave without telling them.
As for Simi, she should be focusing on Prem and his family. Because of course they love her and feel bad for her and want to heal the hell out of her.
Of course leaving without seeing them hurts.
Other than that, going home doesn’t feel that terrible anymore.
I feel strong, but in a completely different way than I ever have.
Getting to tell the Guptas the truth did something to me.
Seeing my sister and Prem together did something to me.
Being with Saj in his home did something to me.
I want to go home and see how this new Rupi fares in the place where she was such a mess.
My visa extension expires in a week. I want to leave while everything is still good and legal. I want to be able to come back someday and see my future nieces or nephews.
Saj stops before we enter the terminal. “Rupi.” That’s it. Just my name, and I want to fold in half.
I can’t do that.
I turn to him. “Actually, there is one more thing I need from you. I need you to let me do the rest of this myself. You don’t have to come into the terminal. Thanks for the ride. Thanks for everything you’ve done. Thanks . . . How have I not thanked you yet?”
“You have. I don’t want your thanks.”
“Okay. And . . . um . . . Can you send me the receipt for the ticket. I’d like to pay for that myself. I’ll send it as soon as I have the money.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t be like this.”
“Like what?” It comes out a whisper. “Don’t be strong?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. You are strong. Do you even know how not to be strong?”
I laugh. Maybe that’s what I’m doing wrong. “Will this be easier if I cry? I’m not great at that. But I’ve had a little practice recently. I can give it a try. Then again, that’s more Simi’s skill. Sorry.”
I turn away from him and start walking again. I have to, or I really might turn into a Simi-like watering can.
I expect him to grab my arm.
I expect him to turn me to himself.
I expect him to pull me to himself.
To kiss me. Ravish me. Soothe the longing coiled within me just as tightly as it is within him.
Unfortunately this isn’t one of the soaps I grew up with.
This isn’t a rom-com. Because he doesn’t.
Not any of it.
And me? I care for nothing except the fact that I know, really know, how badly he wants to.
That has to be enough. I keep walking. Why does the walk from the parking lot to the terminal have to be miles and miles?
“Rupi.”
Gah, can he stop saying my name. “What now?” I turn to him. He’s holding out a brown paper bag. Where did he pull that out of?
“It was in my pocket. I’ve had it for a few weeks now. The opportunity to give it to you just never came up.”
“I don’t want anything from my lawyer. You’ll just bill me for it.”
He laughs. It’s a sad thing, that laugh, but just as satisfying as all the other laughs I’ve ever squeezed out of him. “I didn’t get you anything. I can’t take more from you, Saj.”
He groans. “Fine. Don’t take it.” He starts stuffing it back in his pocket.
He looks so destroyed, I snatch it out of his hand.
I open the bag and look inside. It’s a Mast Tattoo tattoo gun. The best in the market. Wireless, in bright pink.
It’s pink. I hate pink I want to say. I want to give it back. But I pull it to my chest.
“You’ve had this for weeks?”
“I bought it the day after your visa extension came through. I just . . . I’ll take it back.” He tries to take it from me, and I twist away.
“Don’t even think about it.” I unzip my duffel and stuff it inside.
He stands there, watching me. He left his suit jacket in the car, and he’s wearing another of his absurdly well-fitted shirts.
His cologne wafts around me and makes me lightheaded.
I take my time shoving the gun in and zipping it back up.
Then because he’s looking at me like that again, I go up on my toes and drop a kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you,” I say. “Can you stop doing nice things for me now? It’s messing with the robot vibe.”
“You’re welcome,” he says. “I hope it will help you forgive me.”
“For what?”
He looks over my shoulder, and I spin around.
“Rupi!” seven voices say at once. It’s all the Guptas, every one of them.
“Oh god.” Saj called them. The traitor. “I’m going to kill you,” I say, and yet again I make him laugh.
It’s a good thing that we got here early, because they try every trick in the book to get me to go home with them. I can’t. I am, however, incredibly grateful to get to say goodbye.
“When will I see you again?” Simi says.
“At your wedding,” I say. “Don’t make him wait too long, he might find someone else.”
“I did,” Prem says, hugging me. “But she didn’t want to marry me.”
Simi pushes him away and grabs me. My chipku.
“India is still on this planet. You’ll come see me,” I say, but I hug her back for so long, I can’t figure out where she ends and I begin.
“You’re my person, didi,” she says. “My everything.”
“Right back at you, Chipku,” I say and kiss her cheek and stroke her hair and then let her go, which might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“You’re leaving without saying bye to your baba,” Mamma says.
“How could I ever do that?”
“You told him.”
I nod. Saj sneaked me into the house yesterday when no one was home.
“See, you’re not allowed to make me love you more.” She has tears in her eyes.
“Thank you,” I say. “For everything. Will you come see me in Mumbai?”
“You’re leaving me, so I guess I have to. I hear you have a flat. Hotels in Mumbai are very expensive.”
“And you’ll get a tattoo?”
“Only if you give me one. I want one that says Pankaj. Can you design one?”
“On it.” I try to be nonchalant, but when I hug her, tears spill from my eyes.
I wipe them and hug the others. Preeti, her babies (who, it turns out, aren’t that hard to tell apart), John, Pawan, and Chandni. Neel and Nathan hold me for so long, I don’t think I can ever let them go.
I try to stop myself, but I can’t help but throw Saj one last look and wave. I can’t say bye to him in front of this audience. He doesn’t push the issue. We’ve said all there is to say.
They watch me until I disappear through security.
When I get to the gate and hand my boarding pass to the gate agent, he looks at me with some surprise. “You’re in the wrong line,” he says. “Business class is that way.”
Shit, I’m going to have to send Saj a business class fare. I can’t afford that. Except I know that no invoice is ever going to come from him.
I hold back my tears until I’m in my seat. Then the dam bursts.
A flight attendant comes and asks me if I want my duffel bag in the overhead bin. I tell her I want to hold on to it for now.
I hug it to my chest. I need something to hold.
I try to remember the woman who hugged her backpack on a seemingly endless series of trains and buses as she ran for and from her life.
She’s still inside me, but she isn’t running anymore, even when she is.
I thank the person who stole my backpack.
I hope the theft changed their life, too, the way it changed mine.
I hope it led them to what they were looking for, too, the way it led me there, even when I didn’t know what that was.
The tattoo gun pushes against my hand through the fabric of the bag.
I stroke a thumb across it. He bought me a darned tattoo gun.
The one thing I missed when I had so much more than I ever had before.
Who does that? I lean my head into the bag and close my eyes.
Mostly I’m just working hard not to get up and get off the plane.
I should marry Saj. God knows I want to be with him. Then why can’t I?
Because I can’t. Because I love him too much to do it like this. Because I want to, for once in my life, choose the thing that’s the right thing to do, not what feels like my only way out. And because sometimes fighting for someone means not fighting for them.
I will see Simi again. Tanuja will visit me. I know they’ve been meaning to bring Baba to India because he wants to go.
I’ll see them all again. Maybe even Saj. But, god, leaving him hurts in a whole different way.
“Is this seat taken?”
My eyes pop open. “What the hell, Saj! What are you doing?”
He lowers himself into the seat next to me. “Several things. But first, I’m trying to get a client to fire me.”
I grin like an idiot. I can’t help it. “You have no luggage.”
“I’m told there are stores in India.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m told I am. Serious in an angel-of-death sort of way.”
My heart is doing things no human can survive. “What about your work?”
“Good thing I grabbed my laptop and my passport on the way out.”
“You’ve been planning this since we left home?”
“Planning? What’s that? From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I’ve had absolutely no control over anything.
All I’ve known from that moment is the need to be near you.
And when you disappeared into that security line and the Guptas asked if I was coming home, I knew the only home I wanted to go to was you. ”
I close my eyes. I’m 100 percent sure I’m swooning, but I smile. “So, the Guptas forced you on the plane.”
“Well, my sister’s mother-in-law has been trying to set me up with her daughter-in-law’s sister. I broke.”
Was he always this funny? My cheeks hurt. I was right—smiling is a cheek workout. “Are you really going to India with just a laptop bag?”
“Nope, I’m going to India with the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, because I might be hopelessly in love with her.”
My smile stretches across my face. I look around. “You are? Where is she?”
He leans close to me. “I’ll show you. But first I need you to do something.”
“What?” I lean close too.
“Fire me, Rupi,” he says, his lips hovering over mine.
“You’re fired, Saj,” I say, and then I kiss him.