by Leena Clover
I wanted to run some tests myself before I gave a demo to anyone. I was afraid of failing miserably. Dad wouldn’t like that. I had tested the modules, or small chunks of code as I created them. Every function worked well. But did it all come together as a whole?
I fed my old photo to the program and asked it to show me what I would look like now. I closed my eyes for a few minutes and dared myself to open them. I stared at the photo that looked back at me from the screen.
I suppose it could be my sister, except I didn’t have one. The program had changed some of my features. It hadn’t necessarily aged me. I did some analysis and changed a few parameters. The next result was better. I tweaked the program a bit more every time and a couple of hours passed.
Finally, I took a break for dinner.
“How’s that aging progression module coming along, Meera?” Dad asked me.
“I’m close, but not perfect,” I admitted.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Meera. And don’t try to be too precise. This is going to be a projection at best. Human beings don’t age according to a formula. They have age spurts. And everyone ages differently.”
I agreed with Dad. I was already finding it out.
“I’m running some preliminary tests, and you’re right.”
“Are you adding a constant factor for every year, or something variable depending on the age?” Dad launched into more detail.
“How do you mean?”
There are advantages for having a genius for a father, and there are the disadvantages.
“Well, aging a person from 10 to 20 is different from aging him from 40 to 50.”
I thought for a moment and I agreed. I had missed this.
“So I need to check the starting age first, and then have different conditions …”
“Right!” Dad said. “And some people will age more around the eyes, or around the mouth. Some will go bald, or some will have a sagging chin. Some will have age spots. Depends on genetics, or health profile.”
I was stunned.
“That’s a whole lot of parameters, Dad! I’ll never be done this way.”
“Calm down, Meera. You don’t have to be perfect. Do you not see what I’m trying to get at?”
Jeet spoke up, sounding bored.
“There is no single solution, sis! That’s what Dad is trying to say.”
I looked from Dad to Jeet, trying to make sense of their words. Dad had a silly grin on his face.
“The 19 year old has it, Meera.”
I tried to hide my frustration. I ran away from the fancy future my family had planned for me. The one where I was going to be the next Bill Gates. But I didn’t like it when someone made me look dumb. Especially my kid brother.
“Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”
“You’re too close to the problem, Meera. Change your perspective. Zoom out of the picture, eh?”
Dad winked.
It took me back to my childhood. One of the few times I had bonded with my father was when he set a puzzle for me to solve. He would give me clues, and then ask me to ‘zoom out’.
Zooming out would make the image look smaller, but that wouldn’t change its features. And like that, I had my Eureka moment.
“Ohhh! You mean there is no perfect solution. There are multiple solutions.”
“Now you got it,” Dad said happily.
What Jeet had easily grasped was that there was more than one correct answer to the problem. So I could apply a certain set of parameters and come up with one photo that showed pronounced aging around the mouth, another would show more lines on the forehead and so on. I could vary the amount of aging for each of these, based on the correction I applied. There could be hundreds of permutations and combinations.
“I have to go!” I sped back to my computer, eager to try out my latest idea.
A few minutes later, I was staring at a dozen pictures that looked a lot like me.
I tried the whole thing with my current photo and tried to see how I would look 10 years later. The results were not good for my vanity, but they pleased me. I wanted to test the program with as many different people as possible now. Pappa, Motee Ba and Dad would be great subjects.
I called Tony at midnight, waking him up.
“What is it, Meera?” he murmured.
“I need some photographs of you at different ages.”
“Okay, later,” he hung up.
I looked into Dad’s office and found him sitting back in his chair, enjoying a glass of brandy.
“I need some photos for testing, Dad!”
He handed me a small box. He had already gathered photos of everyone in the house. The only ones missing were those of Mom. I wasn’t ready for them yet.
I forced myself to sleep, letting my brain rest for a while. I was up before dawn, scanning in all the photos Dad had provided. I compared my program output of 40 year old Dad with an actual photo. Then I projected how he would look at 60. I did the same thing for Motee Ba at various stages.
Some of the output photos were very close to the mark. I applied some more correction to my program based on these results.
My program was almost perfect. I sat back, feeling a slight tremor in my hand. My heart thudded in my chest as I thought of what it meant. I was finally going to have a ‘look’ at my mother. Even if it was only in a photo.
My stomach rumbled and I decided to make some breakfast. I didn’t have to go in to work so the day pretty much belonged to me. My aunt was flying in to spend some time with us. I had to go pick her up at the airport. With Christmas around the corner, that meant a shopping trip.
I chopped onions and tomatoes, and minced some jalapenos. Pappa walked in just as I placed a pan full of my spicy scrambled eggs on the table. He buttered his toast lavishly, taking advantage of Motee Ba’s absence. She came in and flicked it out of his hand just as he was about to put it in his mouth. I tried to hide my smile.
“Are you coming to the city, Motee Ba?” I asked her.
She hesitated.
“I want to. But it’s too cold out. I think I’ll just stay in and make something special for dinner.”
Becky bowed out so it was going to be just Tony and me. No way I was going alone to get Aunt Anita from the airport. She’s a dragon, that one.
I had just finished clearing all the breakfast dishes when the phone rang.
“For you,” Motee Ba beckoned.
It turned out to be Jessica.
“Hey Jessica. How are you? I didn’t know you had this number.”
“I got it from Pamela,” she quipped. “Can we talk, Meera?”
“Let me call you back.”
I guessed it was going to be a long call. I wanted to take it in the privacy of the guest house. I hurried over and called Jessica back.
“Good Morning Jessica,” I greeted her. “I suppose you’re back home in Texas?”
“What? No such luck. I’m where I always am. In my lab.”
“Don’t you have winter break?”
“Technically, I do, but there’s a lot of work to be done. Research never stops, Meera. There’s always some kind of urgency.”
I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me. “Yeah!”
I knew that very well thanks to Dad and some of my own not so good experiences.
“So you’re still in Swan Creek, you mean?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Usually I’m home by this time, busy shopping or baking cookies with my Mom, but with Jordan gone, none of it really makes sense.”
I was quiet. I wondered how to disclose I was on to her.
She made it easy for me.
“Colin said he was chatting with you for quite a while yesterday.”
“Sure was!”
She sucked in a deep breath and said urgently.
“Meera, we need to talk. Can you meet me today, please? Just name the place.”
I really wanted to, but I couldn’t dare be late for the flight.
“Sorry, I’m
going out of town today. But I can give you 15 minutes now.”
“Colin … he’s a bit weird,” she began.
I had gathered that on my own but I wanted her to go on.
“He’s had a crush on me for a long time.”
I maintained my silence, hoping Jessica would give me something solid.
“He’s delusional,” she burst out.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked calmly.
“Did he talk about me, or Jordan?” she probed.
“Plenty!” I wasn’t about to make it easy for her.
“Like what?” she said, almost hysterical.
“He told me you dated him for three years, and you were getting together with him. You didn’t like Jordan at all. You flirt around with people and play with them. You were about to dump Jordan that day. You had a big fight with him …”
I paused to take a breath.
“It’s not like the way you make it sound,” she cried.
“Okay,” I deadpanned.
“Look, I was with Colin for a few years. That part is true. That was when Jordan and I had broken up. But when I met Jordan again, we reconnected. We got back together. Colin didn’t like that. He can be pretty controlling. He began to threaten me.”
“What about breaking up with Jordan that day? Is that part true?”
“Sort of,” Jessica admitted slowly.
“Why get engaged at all, and then break it off less than a week later?”
“I did love him, Meera. I was overjoyed when he proposed. I said yes in the heat of the moment. But I could never live on at the Triple H. And Jordan wasn’t willing to move with me to Texas. That’s what we were talking about that day, at Willow Lake.”
“So you hung your engagement over him like bait?” I wasn’t feeling the warm and fuzzies toward Jessica any more.
“Colin was giving me hell, threatening to reject all my work. I’ve been working hard at it for years.”
“Was he blackmailing you? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
Jessica let out a sigh.
“Look, it’s hard to explain, but it was all overwhelming for me. I just want to get out of this town, you know. I can’t do that until Colin approves my research. Once I get my PHD, I can do anything I want.”
“Was Jordan in on this?”
“He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He wasn’t that great at hiding his emotions. Unless he stopped coming around, Colin was never going to believe I had dumped Jordan for real.”
“So you were planning to dump Jordan, take up with Colin, get your degree, then dump Colin and then take up with Jordan again?”
My head was reeling.
“Yes, that’s pretty much it,” Jessica admitted.
I whistled.
“What about Cam?” I asked.
“What about him?” Jessica was surprised.
“You weren’t, you aren’t going around with him too?”
“Colin told you that, didn’t he?” she asked sadly. “I think he must’ve said something to Jordan too.”
“You think?” I asked, sarcastically.
“Do you see what I’m dealing with now? Colin Stevens is pure evil!”
Jessica sounded on the verge of tears.
“Evil enough to harm Jordan?” I dove in.
There was a stunned silence.
“You don’t think …” this time I could clearly hear Jessica’s sobs.
“Doesn’t matter what I think. You know the guy better. Was he in town that night?”
“In town?” Jessica wailed. “Meera, he was right there, in Willow Lake Park. He came to pick me up for my meeting.”
I was speechless.
“Did he talk to Jordan that night?”
“He did. But I don’t know what. I went to the restroom in the park. When I got back, they were glaring at each other. Colin’s glasses were lying on the ground.”
“I think you need to tell all this to the cops, Jessica,” I advised, rubbing my hands across my forehead. “It’s a lot to process, and I really need to get going now.”
Jessica whimpered, but she recovered soon and thanked me. I promised to get in touch with her later that week. I needed to bring Stan up to speed on all this.
I collapsed on the couch, staring into space. How many more ants were hiding in the woodwork?
Chapter 20
My mind was churning, trying to process too much information. I definitely needed a break from Jordan Harris. Tony agreed to come with me. I looked forward to shopping my heart out in the mall before picking up my aunt from the airport.
Tony was driving his mom’s sedan and I was settled into the passenger seat in my favorite pose. The seat back was reclined as far as it would go, my feet were up on the dash and I was munching Doritos like they were the last food left on earth.
I cursed as a semi nearly cut us off.
Tony laughed at me, and his eyes crinkled. I noticed how he got crow’s feet around his eyes when he smiled. He was going to age around the eyes. Yes, I had begun noticing those fine signs of age people exhibited. When I do something, I live it.
“You’re getting cranky from all that salt, Meera.”
Tony grabbed the box of chips from my hand and chucked it behind his seat.
“Hey!” I protested.
“What’s bothering you?” he asked.
“Too much information,” I said cryptically.
“I don’t want to talk about it now,” I said before Tony could ask me to elaborate.
The barren landscape was stark but beautiful. My bottom felt toasty in the heated seats and I snoozed on and off. Soon we were at the mall.
“We can shop together for a while, but then we need to split up.”
I didn’t want to miss this opportunity to get something good for Tony.
“What’re you getting me this year?” Tony wiggled his eyebrows.
“You’ll find out on Christmas morning, and not a day sooner.”
I did my best to hide the presents but Jeet and Tony ferreted them out every year. It was like an ongoing contest.
I got cashmere sweaters for the men in the family. Dad and Jeet got V neck sweaters and Pappa got a cardigan. I got a silk scarf for Motee Ba and a pair of leather gloves. Her old ones were looking very worn. Becky got a bottle of her favorite perfume. I had a hard time choosing something for Tony.
“Hungry yet?” Tony asked.
We had split for half an hour and I tried to peek at the bag he held in his hand.
“Starving. Let’s hit the food court here. We don’t want to be late for the flight.”
We got a mix of Chinese food, bourbon chicken, falafel, burgers and milk shakes. In short, a little bit of everything we could find there.
Aunt Anita was standing just inside the Arrivals area, one hand on her hip, her eyes hidden behind dark glasses. She had taken advantage of the full luggage allowance the airline permitted.
“About time,” she said, opening her arms for a hug.
I went into them dutifully and kissed her on the cheek. Tony got a similar welcome.
My aunt is a formidable force in the family. She rules her own kids and husband, the Oklahoma Patels and Uncle Vipul and his California clan with an iron hand, all from her position of power in Edison, New Jersey. I never know what to expect from her.
She gave me a once over and nodded.
“A bit shabby but as pretty as ever.”
I smiled. We got into the car and headed back to Swan Creek.
“Do you want to grab something from a drive through?” I asked solicitously.
“No need. I brought plenty of food.”
She pulled out a box of theplas. Didn’t I say they are a staple in any Gujarati household? Aunt Anita had slathered the theplas with chundo, a sweet and spicy mango relish and rolled them like cigars. She picked one up and started munching on it.
Tony and I grabbed one each.
Aunt Anita launched into a detailed report of what my cousins were up to.
“What’s new with you, Meera?” she asked, finally coming up for air.
“Nothing much,” I shrugged.
“Hmmm … Ba doesn’t say much on the phone. But I’ll get to the bottom of things soon enough.”
I had no doubt she would. Ba, her mother, is my Motee Ba or grandma. Tony took the exit for Swan Creek and we reached home a few minutes later. Motee Ba was sitting by the window. She rushed out, followed by Jeet.
“Kem Cho, Ba?”
Aunt Anita touched Motee Ba’s feet and asked her how she was.
In Indian culture, we show our respect for parents and elders by touching their feet, or the ground they walk on.
Motee Ba and Aunt Anita laughed and cried, while happily wiping their tears. They do this every time they meet. Pappa had tottered out on his cane.
“Anita!” he bellowed.
Aunt Anita followed the same ritual again, touching Pappa’s feet.
“Let’s go inside. I’m freezing. Get the bags, boy!” he glared at Jeet who was engrossed in telling Tony something.
Everyone settled into the living room and I was dispatched into the kitchen to make the requisite tea, or chai.
“There’s some pakoras I just finished frying,” Motee Ba called out.
Aunt Anita squealed like a child.
They say nothing tastes as good as the food your Mom cooks. I have never eaten anything that fits this criteria, but yeah, I can vouch for anything my grandma cooks.
Dad was summoned and he came out, surprised at the sign of my aunt.
“Anita? What are you doing here?”
“Hello Bhai! I guess you forgot I was coming.”
Aunt Anita smiled and hugged Dad.
The Christmas lights twinkled as the sun set. After a couple of rounds of tea, the ladies opted for wine and Dad poured Scotch for himself and Pappa.
I excused myself and went to the guest house. I was itching to talk to Stan. I called him up.
“Meera! Where have you been? I called earlier.”
We exchanged some pleasantries and got to the point.
“I have loads of information,” I told him. “So much that my head is reeling with this stuff.”
“Calm down and tell me one by one,” Stan soothed.
I told him about Colin Stevens. Stan hadn’t heard of him until then, just as I suspected.