Loving Me for Me

by Naleighna Kai

  Devesh slid behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “I would never do that.”

  Mumma raised a hand, as if asking permission to speak. “May I repeat my offer? I would love to keep them at least some of the time.”

  Reign took a deep breath and leaned back into her husband’s embrace. “Maybe on one or two days a week I could leave the school early or go in later so I can bring them here. And I’ll get some errands done. Maybe take in some classes or something.”

  Mumma’s smile was a beautiful thing to behold. “I would love that, Reign. Maybe sometime soon, I can tell you more about this one right here.” She nodded toward Devesh, who was now standing next to Reign, pretending to scowl his displeasure at the prospect of childhood secrets his mother might share. He stuck out his tongue and pouted. Reign and his parents laughed.

  “I’m not used to sharing them,” Reign confessed after a moment. “Maybe I pushed them too much, too fast, because I wanted them to be able to take care of themselves and each other.” Her eyes took on that faraway look he’d come to recognize. “I know that I might not be here long enough to see them into their adult years. My son has his own life, and I didn’t want to burden him with them if something happened to me. Even though he wouldn’t see them that way.”

  “Now you don’t have to worry about any of that,” Devesh said, sweeping aside the morbid thoughts that tried to settle in his soul. “You’re eating healthier, and you’re not so stressed. You’ll be here as long as God wills it.”

  Reign’s smile was wan, not buying into his optimistic views. “Thank you for saying that.”

  Devesh wondered if there wasn’t something going on he wasn’t aware of. Some illness that was the basis for her fears. “Reign, what is this obsession you have with death? Why do you hold so tightly to not wanting to enjoy life? Help me understand.”

  Reign turned her focus toward the window, observing an array of flowers in full bloom. “My family. We die young,” she confessed. “My mother was gone at sixty-two. Grandmother at sixty. My sister at the hands of my uncle. She was twelve. My brother from a motorcycle accident at twenty-one. My other brother went into a diabetic coma at thirty-nine and never came out. The other two got pulled into the drug trade and a rival gang took them out at the ages of sixteen and nineteen.”

  The pain that accompanied those words caused her to tremble. He wrapped her in his arms and held her tight.

  “Of our immediate family,” she continued. “besides Jay and the twins, two nephews, two nieces are still alive. And I don’t have anything to do with my father or half-siblings, so I don’t count them in that mix. I know my time is limited, that’s why—”

  “Tum marne main itne busy ho ki zindagi jeene ka ehsaas nahin hain tumko.”

  Reign tilted her head and studied him as he translated, “Sweetheart, you’re so busy focusing on dying, that you haven’t been about the business of living.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Devesh pulled her into his arms. “There’s so much to look forward to in this present moment. Your son. The twins. Me. Your friends. Your nieces and nephews. They need you to be in this present moment. Live in the now, love. Be grateful for the life God gives you—one second at a time, one minute at a time, one hour at a time, one day at a time.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Let’s be about the business of living, honey.”

  He allowed that to hold space in her head for a moment. Then he leaned over, tasted a spoonful of chicken makhani she held out to him, and moaned, “Oh that’s good.”

  A real smile lifted the corners of Reign’s lips this time.

  Chapter 22

  Reign finished her call with Kerry Van Isom, the Chicago accountant who had set up trust funds for the twins and Jay. Now he was able to set up everything, all accounts for Devesh, and a marital trust for Reign and to make sure Devesh had never landed in trouble with the IRS.

  She typed the last of the notes on her iPad that she needed to share with Devesh about the other financial moves he wanted to make. One was a foundation that would benefit several orphanages in India, a second would provide scholarships to American students who desired to go to Columbia College Chicago or the HBCUs Jay had attended years ago.

  Reign slid her phone into her pocket, entered the family room and den where the majority of people were gathered before tonight’s meal. Tiya and Hiran were set to give a presentation, then dinner would be served a little later than normal. They had Howard, a coworker from the tech firm where Hiran worked, in the theatre fixing an issue that happened with the connection between the projection system and the server where the presentation was stored.

  All eyes were on her the second she stepped in.

  “What’s going on?” she asked Devesh, slowing her walk, feeling that something was about to become unpleasant.

  “The twins need to have their heads shaved,” Devesh said to Reign. “It is a tradition in our culture.” He explained that the shaving was part of Saṃskāra, a series of purification processes. Some believed birth hairs were undesirable traits from past lives and the ceremony sets the child free. “There are sixteen Saṃskāra and Chudakarana—Mundan-First Hair cutting—is one of them.”

  “I don’t care whose tradition it is,” Reign said, unfazed by all the people who were watching and hoping she’d give in. “You’re not shaving my children’s heads.”

  Reign stood stone-faced in the center of the family room, then swept a gaze across the rest of the people situated in the adjoining rooms while she pondered how she could make any part of this work. For one thing, this ceremony was supposed to take place when a child turned one. The twins were far older than that. Her biggest objection was that maybe this was part of their culture, but it was not part of hers. She’d already given in—a little—on scaling back their advanced studies, but she’d found other ways to challenge them. They were definitely staying ahead of the curve. That’s something that Devesh was totally unaware of, and it was harmless, but this … was something entirely different.

  “There’s a story in the Bible,” she began, then narrowed her look when Tiya hissed and gave her the side-eye. “Yes, I have read some sacred text from time to time. Even yours.” She shifted to have a better view of Mumma, Aunt Kavya, and Papa instead of Tiya and Bhavin’s sour faces. “Two harlots living in the same house gave birth to sons. One of the infants was smothered to death when his mother rolled over on him in her sleep. When she awakened the next day and realized what happened, she switched the babies so that the alive one was now in her bed. When the other mother went to nurse her son, she found that the ‘infant’ beside her was dead. But when she took a real good look, she realized it wasn’t the son she’d given birth to. A mother knows.”

  Reign put her focus on Anaya. “The women took their case to King Solomon. The real mother of the live infant explained how the other woman switched the babies after accidentally smothering her own son. The other mother vigorously denied it.”

  Reign paced the area in front of the screen mounted behind her. “Solomon could not determine which of the women were telling the truth. “Bring me a sword,” he commanded. “Cut the living child in two and give half to one woman and half to the other.”

  “That’s in the Bible?” Anaya asked, eyes widened with horror.

  Reign nodded. “The true mother of the live child screamed, ‘Please, my lord, give her the baby. Don’t kill him!’ However, the other woman said, ‘Neither you nor I shall have him. Cut him in two.’ King Solomon said, ‘Give the living baby to the first woman. Do not kill him. She is his mother.’”

  “So how could he tell,” Pranav asked, lacing his hands with Anaya’s.

  “Only a mother would rather see her child stay alive,” Reign answered. “Even if she wouldn’t be the one to have him. She would do what was best.” Reign took a deep breath, preparing to bring her point home. “There are two things that we want here.” She took a seat on the edge of an open spot near Devesh. “The twins are situated pa
rtially in your culture and half in mine. Your culture practices a belief system that neither my children nor I am aware of.”

  “So you must be the bitter mother. Is that what you’re telling us?” Tiya taunted, then added in Hindi, “Or a harlot.”

  Aunt Kavya’s dark brown eyes flashed fire. She reached to her side for the spatula, but came up empty. Devesh got to his feet. Reign put up her hand to keep him at bay.

  “Takes one to know one,” Reign shot back, causing Tiya to frown as though trying to figure out the most insulting part of that statement. “But what I’m actually saying is that I like Solomon’s original way of handling things, and I think it can work here.”

  “Meaning?” Devesh prompted.

  “We’re going to have to split the difference on this one down the middle.”

  The family murmured their questions and comments among themselves.

  “Mumma, do you have a tape measure?” Reign asked, cutting through the throng of voices.

  Her eyebrows drew in. “Yes, it is in the kitchen,” she said slowly, looking at her husband as though he could explain what was going on. “In the drawer next to the stove.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Reign returned in the time it took to say “dinner is served,” which would be happening if Tiya and Hiran hadn’t insisted that the presentation go forward before people eat and get too comfortable to hear it.

  “Devesh, I’ll need you to help me with some calculations.”

  He whipped out his cell and prepared to enter the numbers she called out into the calculator app.

  “So let’s imagine that their hair grows about an inch every month. And since they’re now four years old, that would be about forty-eight inches, give or take.” She took out her own iPhone and checked the calendar. “Write these down,” she said to Devesh, then rattled off all of the dates when Kamran had his hair trimmed, adding, “And Leena’s had a couple of inches taken off twice each year.”

  She used the tape measure, then called the longest length of each child’s head, and Devesh calculated the measurements.

  Devesh took a minute to get where she was going. His laugh filled the air and caused Papa, Mama, and Anaya to join in while others shared looks of confusion.

  “So, it goes without saying that the hair that they would’ve had on their first birthday for this tradition is no longer available.”

  Bhavin scoffed, but a few other family members chuckled. So did Aunt Kavya.

  “But as a show of respect for the tradition,” Reign said, smiling. “We’ll go for a nice little trim for Leena and a much lower cut for Kamran. And I will ask them if they’re alright with it.”

  “They’re children,” Tiya snapped, scowling as she flickered a disdainful look at the twins who were too engrossed in the books they held in their hands to notice.

  “They are little people that God loans us for a period of time,” Reign shot back, and she paced before Tiya and Bhavin. “They are not toys. The minute you teach a child that anything can be done to them without any regard for their feelings is the direct lead in that someone needs to do anything and everything to them.” She scanned every single person in the room to make sure they heard her point, but put a lingering look on Mitul causing him to bristle. “They learn that any adult can do any old thing to them. They have to learn that they have a say in what happens to them—and why.”

  “The Pandit can’t bless a child and say the prayers over them if they have hair,” Bhavin protested, while Sana nudged him into silence.

  “Then we’ll have to let the Black side of the children’s culture and my God do all the protecting,” she countered smoothly, draping the tape measure around her neck. “Because if your prayers only work in certain conditions, that’s not the kind of God I want my children to embrace.” She smiled, though she was nowhere near happy. “So we’re just going to have to settle for a little Catholic holy water or a good old-fashioned baptism.” She whirled to face Devesh. “Are there any other traditions that we need to negotiate?”

  “You could just cut their hair when she’s not around,” Tiya offered to Devesh. Her smile was pure evil. “Why does everything have to be about her? They are your children, after all.”

  “Are you trying to get me killed?” he shot back, seemingly alarmed that his sister did not realize who he had married.

  He understood that shaving their heads against his wife’s wishes would be a sure way to lose her trust; if not losing her altogether. Though Devesh probably preferred that she would allow the tradition to go through the way it always had in their family, he also realized that Reign coming up with a compromise was at least a step in the right direction.

  Tiya shrugged, put a glare on Leena and said, “Just bring them here without her, and I could do it for you as a compromise. Problem solved.”

  “Not if you expect to keep your hands.”

  That chill of Reign’s icy words resonated around the room.

  “You were wrong for suggesting that,” Devesh said to Tiya. “You keep playing with my wife, and it’s going to be game over or lights out. Whatever best describes your trip into the afterlife.”

  For once, Tiya knew when keeping her mouth shut was an absolute necessity.

  Chapter 23

  Ten minutes later, Devesh tried to stay awake as Tiya and Hiran, laid out the plan for pooling their resources—mostly Devesh’s by unspoken agreement—to buy into a franchise hotel property that suddenly became available. The presentation was slick, even had a Power Point spread and Excel projections of how their money would be returned within a year.

  None of it sounded right to Devesh. He wasn’t putting any of his hard-earned money into the venture, but saying that outright would bring on an argument that would last for hours. And right now, he was ready for his wife’s good cooking. Devesh stroked a hand across Leena’s face causing her to look up from the book she was reading and smile at him. He kept his focus on her, pointing to a few interesting things in her book while tuning out the rest of the discussion where Hiran and Tiya were fielding questions thrown their way and providing surface answers to the family’s concerns. He wanted an end to this façade, and since he’d already made his decision, he mentally flipped through his schedule and upcoming changes that Jay had sent over earlier that morning.

  Papa’s eyes slid to Reign. “You have been so quiet. Do you have something you would like to say?”

  Devesh snapped to the present, definitely wanting to hear what wisdom his wife would impart.

  “This is supposed to be about family,” Tiya spat, leaving the front area of the theater’s projection screen to address Papa from a few feet away. “She’s not family.”

  “Be quiet,” Papa snapped, his uncharacteristic tone stunning everyone.

  Tiya slithered onto one of the recliners, glaring openly at Reign who moved from the seat next to Mumma and stood in the center of the theater in front of everyone.

  “I think more research is needed before you put all of that cash in and end up with the same issues that the current owners have,” Reign offered, gesturing to the screen. “Why isn’t the place doing well? It’s a boutique franchise of a major chain. Is the problem management or staff? Maybe the demographics have changed? Is there no longer a need for an outside place to stay? Has the area lost some of the tourist attractions or businesses? Is it taxes? Local politics?” She focused on Papa, who gave an encouraging nod. “The people who own the place didn’t go into this business to fail. You need to talk with them and find out where they made mistakes and missteps. What parts of the business worked well? How did they handle times when occupancy was low? Learn what they would do differently.”

  She waited for a moment, giving Tiya some time to come up with answers or responses. There were none.

  “There are too many variables for you all to spend that kind of money, only to inherit something that’s destined to stay on a downward course.” Reign looked to Mumma who smiled, then she finished by saying,
“Trying to make a recovery on a place after years of neglect, mismanagement, and disrepair is much harder than you think.”

  “What would you know about it?” Tiya snapped, causing even Anaya to cringe at the harsh tone. “You’re just some glorified secretary from the hood.”

  Aunt Kavya rolled her eyes heavenward, mirroring Devesh’s thoughts. She stuffed her hand in her apron, frowning when she was unable to bring out the spatula that had been missing in action for a few days.

  A few murmurs followed that assertion. Anaya shifted a pointed look to Devesh and shook her head.

  Devesh sighed, becoming weary of his family’s distrust of Reign. They were so wrong about his wife. Why couldn’t they see that? Devesh adjusted Leena on his lap so Kamran could climb on the other knee.

  Reign angled, facing Tiya head on. “I have a degree in business management, with minors in both music and hospitality. And I’m a paralegal, not a secretary. So I definitely understand contracts. But it doesn’t take any of that to see through this crap you’re trying to get your family to swallow. What I’m using here is common sense. If you’re buying someone else’s problem, you need to know exactly what the problem is. But even a glorified secretary from the hood would know that. So what’s your major malfunction, Tiya?” Then she tilted her head. “And you have a degree in—”

  “Reign makes a valid point,” Devesh said, moving with the children in his arms, until he stood between Reign and his sister who was about to go ballistic about that dig to her non-existent higher education—one that had been fully paid for with a pageant win. “We need to check these people out. The business too, not just the portfolio they gave you and whatever this is you threw together for us.” Devesh gestured dismissively toward the projection screen. “I’d like to see …”

  “Profit and loss statements, valuation reports, operating agreements, shareholder and employment agreements,” Reign supplied. “Accounts receivable and payable ledgers, telling us how much money is going out as well as coming in.”