Chapter 2 #3
“Mom, sorry, but I don’t want to hear more about Rohit ‘Cheating’ Khanna and how his father is trying to clear his name.” Manisha wrinkled her nose. “Once a cheater, always a cheater.”
Her mom clicked her tongue. “Forget Rohit, Isha. I want to talk about you.”
Manisha crossed her arms, bracing herself for more pestering about her romantic life.
“You know, I was talking to Meena Auntie, and she mentioned how modern women, with their laptops, phones, and ePads, face all kinds of challenges when it comes to having children now,” her mother continued.
Manisha narrowed her eyes at the mention of Meena Auntie, the local gossip who fancied herself a master of all things “medicinal.” She had a potion or pill for seemingly every ailment under the sun and boasted of curing all sorts of injuries and illnesses.
“Please don’t tell me this is going to be about one of her ‘miracle cures.’ Mom, I wish you’d avoid Meena Auntie and her weird hocus-pocus. And it’s called an iPad.”
“Oh, okay. iPad, not ePad. Got it,” her mother said, then paused. “Anyway, Isha, she told me all about these problems, and then, like a message from God, I heard on the Hindi radio show about freezing your eggs and how women your age should be considering such a thing.”
Manisha stared at her mother, stunned. “Are you serious? Freezing my eggs? Could the message from God have waited? Do we really have to do this now?” She felt more than just a little uncomfortable, taken aback by her mother’s unexpected openness.
This was the woman who still changed the channel any time there was kissing onscreen, and now she was broaching fertility with Manisha.
“Yes, we do, Manisha. We have to do this right now!” Her mother reached into the side of her Indian suit and dug deep into her pocket, then held out something to Manisha with a solemn expression. “This is my last wish,” she said, looking up at the ceiling.
Manisha reflexively glanced upward, too, curious. It was just a white ceiling.
“Here. Please. Take this.”
Manisha reluctantly took the envelope from her mother’s hand and opened it. She pulled out a slip of paper and immediately gawked. It was a cheque in the amount of twenty thousand dollars.
“Holy red-bottom shoes,” she whispered. Without missing a beat, her mother lightly smacked her on the head with a rolled-up newspaper, seemingly summoned out of thin air.
“Ouch!” Manisha yelped.
Her mother pointed the newspaper at her. “This is not money for your shoes or clothes. This is money for your health. Not to feed the bank accounts of those dumbo Loubie designers.”
“I’ve only ever heard Christian Louboutin referred to as brilliant, superb, one-of-a-kind—never ‘dumbo.’ ”
“Manisha, please take this seriously. It is my gift to you for your future. It was not an easy time for you in London this past year. I know you…” Her mother trailed off.
Manisha held her breath. She’d never shared the details of her breakup with her family, but her mother had a sort of superpower intuition that kicked in when her kids were away from her.
She always knew when something was wrong.
Even though Manisha’s sudden and longer-than-expected trip home had left most of the family bewildered, her mother never questioned it.
“Listen, Isha, while you are staying here with us, I was hoping you could make an appointment with Dr. Rocky. He’s a fertility doctor and an old family friend. My friend.”
“A male family friend?” Manisha raised an eyebrow. “Do tell, Mom!”
A second smack on the head landed; this one was thoroughly deserved. Manisha couldn’t move fast enough to avoid it.
“What a bandari I raised,” her mother said, frowning. “Don’t act foolishly when you meet him. He is a well-respected man in the community.”
Manisha sighed. This wasn’t something she wanted to do, but her mother’s insistence paired with her generosity was enough to make her at least consider the idea.
She was getting older, and maybe her mother was right.
Maybe it was a good time to start planning for a family, even if she wasn’t in a relationship.
“Go and meet with him. He will help you set up everything for freezing your eggs.”
Manisha stared at the cheque in her hands, thinking of her friends and colleagues in London who had opted to freeze their eggs in recent years.
At first, she had thought they were out of their minds.
But as time went on and life got busier in her role as senior partner, she came to understand the importance of scheduling everything, including motherhood.
And now, the thought of putting an end to the awkward conversations with her mom about starting a family was also incredibly appealing.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was too significant an amount of money for her parents to be spending on her.
“Mom, I appreciate your offer, but using your money for this feels wrong. I have some savings I can dip into.” Manisha’s voice quivered as she considered her less-than-empty savings account. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
“No,” her mom said firmly. “It is my gift to you. Before I die. Please, Manisha.”
“Mom, you’re not dying,” Manisha said, exasperated.
Her mom was being especially dramatic this morning.
“Let me check my schedule and see when I can fit in this Dr. Rocky.” She made a show of grabbing her phone and opening her calendar, even though she knew it would be utterly devoid of any upcoming events, especially work ones.
“Manisha, I am not as educated as you are sometimes. I know I didn’t attend the big fancy university, but I know that raising three beautiful children was the greatest joy of my life. That was my education. Learning from all three of you. I want you to have this joy one day, too.”
Manisha gave her a soft smile. “I get it, Mom. You’re truly the best. And just so you know, you don’t need to have attended any prestigious university to be smart.” She wrapped her arms around her mother affectionately. “In my eyes, you’re the smartest woman I know.”
“I know you work hard, Manisha, but I want to make it a little easier for when you are ready to have your own family with this extra step.”
“I appreciate that, Mom.”
“Oh, I looked up the procedure, and it is straightforward. Bang, bang, shoot, shoot, and you’re done.”
Manisha burst into laughter. “Bang, bang, shoot, shoot? I really hope those aren’t the actual medical terms Dr. Rocky uses. Okay, Mom, I’ll go see him.”
Her mother clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, that’s wonderful news! Of course, I don’t want to push you, but Manisha, this is important. It’s time to stop the nonsense. You’re older now. So yes, I’m putting some pressure on you.”
“But you just said you weren’t pressuring me.”
“I changed my mind. I worry about you.”
Manisha sighed, her heart heavy with the weight of her mother’s concern.
“Mom, you don’t have to stress over this.
I really mean it. I promise I’ll follow through.
” Her gaze shifted to the cheque in her hand, where her mother’s handwritten amount stood out starkly, a reminder of the responsibility she had taken on.
“Please put this toward the temple or local Indian community centre, or I don’t know, something for yourself.” She pressed the cheque back into her mother’s hands. “I’ll handle the egg freezing, but just please keep your money.”
“See, I raised a good daughter,” her mother said, beaming. “A good daughter who will be a good wife and then a good mother, too. Thank you, God.” She looked up at the ceiling.
“In between watching all your Indian tabloid news, yes, you did manage to raise a good daughter, Mom.” Manisha smiled.
“Chal, I will save this for your wedding then.” Her mother folded up the cheque and tucked it back into her pocket. “A big fat Indian wedding. Shall we make a guest list now?”
“I’ve already agreed to freeze my eggs, and now you want me to whip up a guest list for a wedding that’s only happening in your imagination.
Nope, this sounds like a great time to make a swift exit to my room for some quality time with Netflix,” Manisha said, spinning on her heel like she was in a dramatic Bollywood movie, strutting toward the stairs.
“You can Netflix and chili later. I need a ride to Uncle Parm’s store. The milk and butter are on sale.” Her mother looked at her expectantly.
“Mom, it’s Netflix and chill, not chili. And Uncle Parm always seems to have a sale on milk and butter. Can’t it wait?” Manisha glanced at the clock on the wall, reminding her it was hardly noon. “Besides, you know how to drive!”
“I know, but I prefer to sit back and watch, and you take the big wheel,” her mother said, a barely detectable note of longing entering her voice.
Manisha met her determined gaze. To her mother, “I prefer to sit back and watch” was code for her desire to spend more quality time with her daughter. Manisha changed course for the foyer.