Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors

by Sonali Dev

  Apparently, it was just the opening Emma had been waiting for. “So, about being under your care. The last time we spoke—”

  Trisha pulled a stool closer to the bed and sat down. “I’ve done some research since the last time we spoke. I want you to hear me out.”

  Her patient opened her mouth then shut it again, which with Emma meant she was listening, really listening.

  “You should know that this is a first for me. I’ve never had a patient who has lost their sight before—”

  “Aw, I’m your first! What an honor.” Emma smirked, and Trisha had to smile, because, really, a person who retained their humor—however dark—in a situation like this was more badass than she’d ever be.

  “Go on,” Emma said with a sigh.

  “Have you heard of Jane Liu? She’s an artist from the area. From Monterey actually.” Trisha turned on her iPad and pulled up the pictures she’d taken of Jane’s work. “She’s been blind since birth. Her work is remarkable. She’s one of a handful of artists who’re changing how scientists perceive blindness.”

  “That’s nice. But Jane’s never had her vision, so her brain is probably wired differently from mine.” Nevertheless, Emma took the iPad from Trisha and started swiping through the pictures. When she came to the images of the classrooms and the tactile art, she paused.

  “She’s not the only blind artist in the world, and not all the ones I researched were blind from birth. There are programs around the world where blind and visually impaired artists are creating some amazing work. They claim to see the images in their head before transferring them onto paper or other material. And study after study shows that the visual cortex in the brain lights up like a Christmas tree in scans when they paint or visualize their pieces.” Jane was participating in a study and Trisha had seen the scans. They were entirely unexpected, completely paradigm shifting.

  Emma’s fingers started shaking over the pictures. Her face had gone so pale her freckles turned stark against her skin. DJ walked over and sat down on the bed next to her, studying the pictures as she swiped back and forth. Yet again she stopped on a picture of a classroom, children touching the metal strips swirling and projecting from a baseboard, but she couldn’t form the question she wanted to ask.

  “Jane runs an institute where she teaches what she calls tactile art to artists of all ages. They’ve been doing studies that prove we see with more than just our eyes, that our tactile senses can be just as responsible for creating mental images. There are many different ways to process the world. One sense isn’t the be-all and end-all.”

  Emma shoved the tablet back at her. “Really? That easy, is it? Which sense have you ever given up? In fact, what have you ever lost? What have you ever had to live without?”

  Not much. “You’re right, I’ve been blessed with a great deal. But there are millions of people who have not. Millions of people who live with all sorts of challenges. And they live happy lives. Full lives. Meet Jane once. That is all I’m asking.”

  Emma shook her head. There was a violent force to the action, but the eyes that met Trisha’s were filled with doubt. “I can’t.”

  DJ rubbed his temples, but he didn’t say anything, and Trisha’s heart squeezed.

  “Why do you paint, Emma?”

  She shrugged, as though the question were too easy for her to dignify with an answer. But then she relented. “Because it’s the only way I know how to survive. How to trudge through all the shit in the world. I paint because it makes me bloody happy. I am my work, Dr. Raje.”

  “No. No, you aren’t. You aren’t your art any more than I am my surgery or your brother is his food.” She felt DJ’s gaze on her but she couldn’t look at him. “We, all three of us in this room, think we live for our work. But is it really that simple?”

  Emma didn’t respond, and Trisha went on. “Sure, you paint because you want to understand the world, but I think you really do it because you want to change it, by changing every person who looks at your paintings, one by one. You want to make people uncomfortable. You want to force them to think about things they’ve never bothered to consider . . . Your brother cooks because he wants to comfort people, to show them the pleasure their bodies are capable of experiencing, to make them pause and savor their own existence as they fly through life. You can see it in his face every time someone eats his food . . . And me? I do it because I want to save lives, take away suffering. Whatever the case, we want to change things around us. Because we want to matter, and we believe that our work makes us matter. The work isn’t the end, it’s the means for what we really want: to matter.

  “If it were the work itself, every failure would destroy us. Instead, it makes us try harder. Because it’s the changing things that makes us matter. But that’s only part of it. Having someone who can see us, especially someone who can see and love that us who works so hard to matter—that’s what completes it, completes us. If that went away, that’s the thing that would destroy us. You’re already loved. Your brother left his life for you. You already matter. All you need is to find another way to change the world. And there are other ways.” She swiped through the pictures and held them up to Emma.

  Emma stared at the screen, but she shook her head stubbornly. “That’s a great speech, but there is only this one way I know how to process my world. I can’t do it.”

  Trisha stood. “You know, I’ve been accused of being self-absorbed, of not bothering with the feelings of others.” She still would not look at DJ. “But what you’re doing makes me look like the empath of the year.”

  “This is not a tantrum, Dr. Raje. I’m—”

  “Actually, it is, love.” Finally DJ spoke, cutting Emma off. He threw a quick look at Trisha, and what she saw in his eyes was different from anything she’d ever seen. Then he looked back at Emma. “It is a tantrum. Do you have any idea how many terminal patients would die for a cure, for a chance to live? Do you have any idea how many people in this world live with disabilities? It’s a simple Google search.” He held out his hand and Trisha handed him her iPad. He typed out the search, his fingers steady, all of him filled with purpose. The way he looked back at his sister, his heart in his eyes, made Trisha want to wrap her arms around him. “One out of five people in America, according to the Census Bureau. And every one of them is as alive as you or I.” He pushed the tablet into Emma’s hands.

  Emma didn’t answer, but they looked at each other, so many unsaid things clogging the air between them.

  “Brain surgery is not open-ended,” Trisha said. “The bigger the tumor grows, the harder it will get to not damage healthy brain tissue. In fact, those episodes of vision loss that you’ve been experiencing—they most likely mean that nerve atrophy is setting in. You’re risking your life for your vision, but the chances that you’ll have your vision much longer aren’t good.”

  Emma clutched the iPad.

  “I know you’re angry, that you’ve been through things no one should have to go through, but we’re out of time. You have to make a decision. Think about your brother. Think about what losing you would do to him. Meet Jane once. If not for yourself, do it for him.”

  DJ closed his eyes and Emma looked at him like she was going to die from the pain.

  Trisha opened the door and took a second to wave over the nurse who was waiting down the corridor with a wheelchair. “The nurse is going to take you in for your scan. I know that if you do it, if you meet Jane, you won’t regret it. But in the end this is your life and your decision.”

  Emma didn’t answer. But she didn’t say no and that was all the answer Trisha needed for now.

  The moment Emma was gone, leaving Trisha alone with DJ, the air in the room changed.

  He looked at her, the intensity in his eyes from a moment ago replaced by wariness. The purpose inside her was replaced by mortification.

  Seriously, what on earth had come over her when she’d blurted out her feelings? He was her patient’s brother. He was working with her family. Why ha
dn’t she thought about the fact that she’d be seeing him again? Over and over again. Now here she was standing a mere few feet from him unable to look at him without every single word they’d said rising up between them like one of those tacky bead curtains.

  “Thank you,” he said simply.

  “Just doing my job.”

  Awkward silence loomed.

  “I really do believe that meeting Jane will change Emma’s mind.”

  Something shifted in his eyes, something raw and vulnerable. “I think so too. I think what you said to her back there, it . . . it really broke through. She’s been struggling these last couple days.” The saddest smile tugged at his lips. “She had a bit of a meltdown this morning while shooting this film about her illness that she’s been working on. I was hoping it would be cathartic for her to do it, help her process her thoughts. But I think meeting Jane will do it. So thank you.” He looked sincerely grateful, then suddenly he looked uncomfortable again as though he’d said something wrong. Thanking her had to be hard.

  Well, that was her cue to leave. “My hopes are high. I’ve set up a meeting with Jane for tomorrow. I’ll leave the details with the nurse.”

  He nodded and she left the room.

  She had taken a few steps when it struck her.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  When she turned around, he was standing outside the door watching her with those intense eyes. She walked back to him. It took her a few seconds to get the words out. “Do you mind walking with me to my office?”

  Another nod before he fell in step next to her.

  They were halfway to her office before she managed to speak again. “I know this isn’t the best time to bring this up. But I think it’s time we talked about how you know Julia Wickham.”

  He threw her a look, but he didn’t stop walking. The full blast of coldness was back in his eyes, and it was like a punch to her throat.

  She thought about the warmth with which he treated Ashi and Nisha. The inherent gentleness with which he took care of his sister. Naomi, the nurses here, he was lovely to everyone. Everyone except her.

  What was wrong with her? Why was she hurting herself this way? It didn’t matter how he felt about her. Nothing else mattered if what she suspected was true.

  “My asking you this has nothing to do with anything I said to you that day. I have no intention of embarrassing you by ever bringing that up again. I’m truly sorry for how I behaved. But I have to know. Did you say Emma was working on a film about her illness?”

  She got another curt nod.

  “She’s working with Julia, isn’t she?”

  HRH’s email had said Julia had been doing interviews with terminally ill patients. The fact that she’d picked Emma, when she wasn’t terminal—there was something going on that Trisha couldn’t wrap her head around.

  They had stopped outside her office. She knew his livid stillness by now. The way his mouth pursed, making the dent in his chin deepen. Those eyes, hazel rings around dark centers, turned on her. “Is this leading up to another threat to fire me?”

  She pushed the door to her office open. “You have to understand—”

  “Hi, Trisha.” What the hell was Neel doing in her office?

  “Oh,” all three of them said as DJ and she stared at her brother-in-law sitting on the couch.

  Breath whooshed out of her in a panic. “Neel! What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just needed to talk to you.” He threw a look at DJ and stood. “I can wait outside until you’re done.” But he stopped and studied DJ again. “Aren’t you the chef Nisha’s working with for the fund-raiser?”

  Great, this was just great.

  With a quick glance at Trisha, DJ stuck out his hand. “DJ Caine.” Despite her panic, the way he said his name made all sorts of heat zigzag inside her.

  Neel shook his hand and threw a curious look at Trisha. She felt a bull’s-eye burning in the center of her forehead. “Neel Graff. We met briefly at the dinner—it was great, by the way. I thought you were in Monterey, working on the event with Nisha.”

  DJ’s expression did not alter. “I am working with your wife. My sister had an appointment with Dr. Raje, that’s what I’m here for.”

  “I see,” Neel said. “I hope your sister’s okay.”

  “Dr. Raje assures me that she will be.”

  Neel squeezed DJ’s shoulder. “She’s in very good hands with Trisha. You couldn’t ask for a more talented doctor.”

  DJ threw her one of those looks. The kind that undid everything she was. “So everyone keeps telling me.”

  Neel smiled, blissfully unaware of the storm of undertone in DJ’s voice. So much for emotionally blind. Her mind had taken to zeroing in on every minute nuance when it came to him.

  “I look forward to seeing you at the fund-raiser,” Neel said in his typical slightly formal way.

  “That remains to be seen.” DJ had it, too, that old-world formality all the men in her family possessed.

  “I thought you were catering it.”

  “I did too. But apparently, I might not have the opportunity.” His eyes met hers, still deliberately flat.

  She couldn’t respond, not with her breath held.

  He turned back to a confused-looking Neel and smiled his most stiff smile. “If my sister’s health worsens, I might need to recuse myself from the job. But I’m hoping Dr. Raje will not let it come to that.”

  Neel gave his shoulder another supportive squeeze and left. Trisha exhaled and shut the door behind him. “Thank you for that.”

  “Well, I didn’t not out Nisha because of your threats. I did it because I would never do anything to harm your sister.”

  She walked to her desk and leaned back into it. “I know that.”

  For a moment he said nothing, just studied Emma’s painting on her wall with some surprise. She’d had it mounted the day after Emma gave it to her.

  “Nisha has her reasons for keeping her secret.”

  “Everyone always has reasons for keeping secrets.”

  He was right.

  Everyone always had reasons. She’d had a reason for not telling Yash that Julia had developed an unhealthy obsession with him. She’d thought Julia was her friend. And when her friend had begged her to keep her secret, she’d done what her friend needed. It had been the biggest mistake of her life. One she’d be repeating if she didn’t tell her family that Julia was working with DJ and Emma. But it would mean he’d lose the job.

  In her gut she knew that he didn’t deserve that. She’d seen the fire in his eyes at the Astoria, during the tasting at Nisha’s. She also knew in her gut that Julia’s being here wasn’t a coincidence. And Yash . . .

  “Mr. Caine . . .” He turned to her. “Do you mind if I call you DJ? It’s seems like it’s time we moved past last names.”

  He swallowed, a strange look crossing his face. “Please.”

  “Julia is taking advantage of you and Emma to hurt my family. I know this for sure.”

  “Can you tell me how you know this?”

  “No, I can’t. It could hurt my family too much if I did.”

  Pride in who he was glittered in his eyes. “I would never break a confidence.”

  “I know that—you didn’t just now with Neel and I appreciate that.” But not everyone was like him. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Ashi had told her that he was still helping with her menu, even after she’d rented the kitchen and couldn’t let him use it.

  Worry about how much Julia could hurt him stomped through her. But she couldn’t compromise Yash.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that Julia was working with Emma, DJ?”

  “I wasn’t aware that I had to run whom I choose to associate with by you, Trisha.” He pronounced it “Trisher” and said it deliberately, as though to emphasize how long it had taken them to get around to this basic level of intimacy, and how she had leapt right over that threshold to dumping her feelings at his feet.

  And
now all she wanted was for him to say her name over and over like that.

  Could the floor open and swallow her up, please? “I told you my family won’t work with you if you associate with her.”

  “Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think it was fair for you to take another thing away from her.”

  She laughed. “I have no idea what Julia’s been telling you, but I assure you that I’ve never taken anything away from anyone, most of all not her. I have always been honest with you—often to my detriment. Can you at least weigh what you’ve seen before deciding you want to trust her over me?”

  “You want me to mistrust someone on your word?”

  “You’re mistrusting me on her word, aren’t you?”

  That gave him pause. He squeezed the back of his neck. “In the absence of it being refuted.”

  “I can’t refute it because there are things I cannot reveal. Things that aren’t mine to reveal.”

  “Well then, we have a problem, don’t we?”

  That they did. Actually they had a clusterfuck of problems. “She hurt my brother very badly. I just can’t give you the details. You wouldn’t let anyone hurt Emma, either.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. But Emma wouldn’t destroy anyone’s life.”

  That made her take a step away from him. “My brother has never hurt anyone. He is the best human being I know.”

  “Wow! I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sister say that. Emma’s more interested in telling me how I’m a total git.” He smiled, then realized he’d smiled and went stormy again.

  “It’s obvious Emma feels that way about you, too.” She’d never told Yash how she felt about him. “It’s hard to tell your family how you feel. Have you told Emma?”

  “Told her what?”

  “How you’re feeling right now? How important it is to you to not lose her.”

  “She knows.”

  Trisha thought about all the things Yash and she hadn’t said to each other when they should have. “Or maybe it’s exactly what she needs to hear.”