“Her place is here working the farm,” Niti responded, her voice morphing into a more curt tone.
“Well, as you said, she’s not good at it. I was thinking this might be an acceptable solution. Asha could walk to school with Mukash in the mornings. It would give you an extra income. As you know, the school pays decent wages. The jobs are hard to come by, and Asha’s familiar with the building. Her mother was one of our best employees.” Sarah took a long sip of her tea, looking as calm as a breezeless day, but Asha saw her slim fingers shake when she put the teacup down.
Apparently, Mukash had told Sarah about more than just her face. The offer of employment after Aditi had caused their finances to plummet would appeal to her mother-in-law. The woman could smell money as if it was curry.
“Who will feed the animals here? And wash the clothes and cook? Who will prepare my son’s breakfast? I am old. I can only do so much.”
“Mother, I can do the laundry and cooking when I come home,” Asha offered.
“We can feed the animals and take care of them in the mornings before school. If we do it together, it doesn’t take long,” Mukash added. Asha felt the alliance of the three of them, Sarah, her, and Mukash, conspiring together against Niti. A hint of guilt passed through her, but then her mouth began throbbing, stifling any remnants of remorse.
“My son will have to agree,” Niti finally replied.
Sarah clasped Niti’s hand. “I’d be happy to talk to him. After all, I know how hard he works. And we both know this union didn’t bring you the wealth your family deserves.”
Niti crossed her arms and nodded her head. “It did not. Not at all. I must have done something terrible in a previous life to deserve this fate.”
Mukash was right. Sarah was a pious woman, but she was capable of scheming like a villain.
Aditi didn’t agree at first, but he eventually wore down with his mother’s insistence.
“Let the girl do something useful for us,” she suggested.
“She is worthless in the house. Her parents have spoiled her,” she berated.
“I could hire a maid of our own for what she’ll make at the school. Any girl is better than her,” she complained.
Asha appeared somber during the assaults. Secretly, it was the one time when she looked forward to the ritual of dinnertime denigration.
* * * *
On her first day of work, Sarah took Asha’s hand and led her to the library. She locked the door and hugged her.
“How badly has he hurt you?”
“Just one time.”
“Once is one time too many, child.” She broke the hug, holding Asha at length. Asha hadn’t felt the impact of being a married woman, her lost innocence, or her horrible reality until she looked at Sarah. Her composure crumpled, and she sobbed harder than she ever had. Sarah held her, whispering a mixture of prayers and promises.
“I should begin my work,” Asha said, drying her tears.
“I agree.” Sarah went to a large bookshelf and grabbed several textbooks. They hit the long worktable with a harsh thud. “This is where you left off. You’ll have to work alone, but it shouldn’t be difficult. I’ll check over your assignments in the evenings and help you when you have trouble.”
Asha regarded the mathematics and grammar texts Sarah laid before her. “I don’t understand.”
“When you’re here, you are in school.”
“Why?”
“You still have much to learn. You can’t expect to read novels all day. An unfinished education is perhaps the worst cliffhanger of them all.”
Asha chuckled at Sarah’s attempt at humor, but the sound felt foreign to her. “My mother-in-law will expect me to bring home money.”
“I have it all worked out. I’ll be able to provide you payment from my personal funds.”
“The other maids will suspect and gossip. It’ll get back to her.”
Sarah shook her head and gestured to the library’s many shelves. “This library is in desperate need of reorganizing and cataloging. We will need someone with your qualifications for this type of work.”
Asha looked around at the stacked shelves with their rows of pristine books, all lined up in perfect order.
“They won’t know how long a job like this takes,” Sarah added.
“The other teachers?”
“I’ve sworn them to silence and, trust me, there are perks to being a nun. People take vows made to nuns very seriously.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Sarah hugged Asha once more. “Because there’s very little I can do except for this. If I tried to take you away from him, there would be a scandal. The villagers might riot or shut down the school, demand my resignation, and everything we’ve done would be in jeopardy. But this I can do. You’ll be away from her for most of the day. You’ll be in a safe place, and perhaps the income you earn will insure against another attack. I can’t give you much, but I can give you something to look forward to.”
Asha’s eyes filled with tears, but she wiped them before they could fall, determined to be strong for once. “Thank you, Sister.”
* * * *
Asha, although not complacent, accepted her life. After all, there was very little she could control except when it came to her studies. If school was a race, Asha was running a marathon. She absorbed knowledge as quick as Sarah laid it in front of her. On their walks to and from the school, she’d tutor Mukash. They’d stop on the side of the road just long enough for Asha to spell some new words for him. He hadn’t learned to read fluently, but he had started picking up enough so he wasn’t so lost.
Her life was busy. Niti didn’t dismiss her from any chores, and now she had much more to do, but she never complained. When she did feel sad, she only had to look at Mukash’s sweet face to pull through again.
Aditi didn’t hit her after that horrible night. He appeared contrite and distanced himself, especially when he noticed her missing tooth. In response, or perhaps retaliation, she smiled as much as possible in his presence.
Unfortunately, the trick didn’t work when they went to bed, and he would often tell her to lay on her back. It was during those times, she was most grateful for all the books she’d read and the imagination the Gods had graced her with. Her imagination was not only a gift, but it became her protection mechanism. She trained her mind to conjure the masterful images Twain, Austen, Dumas, and Dickens painted when her husband’s weight almost crushed her. He’d roll off her, and she’d fall asleep face down on the mat, trying to drown out his snoring while muffling her own cries.
For over a year, she lived in that life, content in her carefully constructed world. Even as a Choice Less, she could find joy in the pages of a book or Sarah’s teachings or Mukash’s smile.
Only there came a day when she could no longer drown him out.
Sleeping on her stomach wasn’t possible.
* * * *
“It will be a boy,” Aditi said proudly.
“It better be,” her mother-in-law added.
Asha hated the baby in her belly. It was a thief, stealing away the last shred of her innocence. Her life would change once it came, taking away what little freedom she had. No more pretend work. No more school. No more grand plans of escape that her imagination created each night. She’d be tethered to this life forever.
Sarah told her she was carrying a miracle. The nun prayed over her belly and gave her books about pregnancy. Asha didn’t feel like her worthless soul and weak body were capable of miracles. The baby wasn’t a blessing. It was a curse.
In her third month, everything changed with one simple conversation. They shared the evening meal with Niti’s gripes, Aditi’s grumbles, Mukash’s exuberance, and Asha’s silence. As usual, Niti commanded the conversation.
“There is a woman in the city who can tell if the baby’s a boy or girl.”
Asha’s ears perked up, and her hand went straight to her waist, rubbing it to comfort the soul inside her.
&nb
sp; “She takes a pendant and places it over the stomach. If it goes up and down, it’s a boy, but if it’s left to right, a girl.”
Asha wanted to ask why they would care, but she already knew the answer. The signs were there, but she’d been so selfish she’d never once considered the innocent child in her belly.
“It’s better to know these things in advance. Easier,” Niti continued as if she was talking about one of their animals giving birth to a sick offspring. The analogy held no similarity. When an animal gave birth, it didn’t matter the gender of the baby. In fact, females were more appreciated since they would increase the stock. Asha’s breath hitched, and a wave of nausea overcame her. She bit it back, not daring to get up when they were discussing her baby.
Her baby.
“I won’t trust my child’s life to a charlatan,” Aditi said. Asha sighed gratefully. Aditi caressed her cheek. “Besides, I know it’s a boy.”
Just as he made the self-assured statement, Asha accepted her fated life was much too cruel to hand her a son. She was carrying a girl baby—an unwanted girl just like herself. A fierce need to protect overcame her, and something else…a love she’d never expected.
She wanted the baby.
She set about to convince her family that any child, regardless of gender, was a blessing. She tried to appeal to Niti first. “Another girl can help us with all this housework.”
The woman’s reply wasn’t favorable. “And she will break us, too. We’ll have to sell our lands to pay for dowry. Are you really this stupid? Do you not understand how a son brings wealth while a daughter steals it?” The older woman, in a gesture of camaraderie, placed her hand on Asha’s shoulder. Asha forced herself not to move. “Don’t worry, beta. It’s not good for you to fret right now. You will have a strong son. One day he will command a great dowry and restore wealth to this house.”
She appealed to her husband next when they were alone in the dark of night. He was breathing in a way that told her he hadn’t fallen asleep yet. “Aditi, did you know the man determines the baby’s sex? If I’m carrying a girl child, it’s because your body told mine it’s what you wanted. It’s meant to be, husband.”
His fingers gripped her neck with such strength all breath escaped her. “Stop talking nonsense. If we have a girl, it is your fault and only yours.” His fingers pressed farther. She tried to pry them loose but his grip was too strong.
“Say it!” he screamed.
She shook her head, unable to breathe, let alone say anything. He released her but held her arms back, his nails digging into her skin. “Promise me you are having a boy.”
She rasped and choked until she could sputter the words. “It will be a boy. I promise.” It was ridiculous for him to think she could determine the gender of their baby, but in that moment, she would have pledged she was having an elephant if it appeased him.
She wore a yellow scarf to hide the finger marks on her neck from Sarah. They served as a silent reminder that she had no ally in her husband.
She prayed a great deal, for what she wasn’t sure. Should she pray she was carrying a boy? Why? So he grew up cruel and merciless like her husband? Should she pray the girl would survive? And if she did, she’d have a horrible life. The abuse would only increase, its vicious aim targeting an innocent child, all because of her gender.
Asha walked around the house like a shadow, every kick in her belly signaling the inevitable. Her chores suffered because her feet swelled just like her waist. Her hair started falling out, and she had trouble keeping food down. Mukash took over as much as he could, but it didn’t go unnoticed by her mother-in-law.
Asha sat hunched over a rock with a bucket of soapy water and a pile of dirty clothes. She washed each garment, slapping it against the rock, grateful she could be alone in her grief. She used the back of her wrist to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her whole body had become a cracked vessel for liquid—she was either sweating or vomiting or crying or urinating.
“You’re washing it wrong, beta,” Niti said, sitting beside her. Asha cast her mother-in-law a suspicious glance, not because of the criticism, that she was used to, but for the gentle tone of her voice, which she was not. Niti crouched next to her, taking the yellow scarf from Asha’s hand.
“You have to eat more. You are carrying my grandson after all.”
“Or granddaughter.”
The older woman winced. “If you keep saying those things, it will be a girl.”
“It’s already been determined. Our wishes won’t change it.”
Niti turned to the girl, touching her hair in a motherly gesture. Asha squeezed her eyes tightly, hoping for the new wave of nausea to pass.
“Do you think this is an easy life? For a woman?”
Asha knew there were women in the village that did enjoy a wonderful life, but right now, she could not think of any examples. She only saw the misery. “It’s a very difficult life. We work all day. We are not respected. We grow old before our time. We have no choices.” Asha, surprised by her own candidness braced for Niti’s backlash, but it didn’t come.
“Then why would you want to subject your daughter to this suffering?” Niti asked. “We are doing the child a blessing. She will not bear any pain. I will see to it myself.”
“How?” As soon as she asked the question, Asha regretted it. She didn’t want to know.
Niti gave her a toothless grin, perhaps meant to comfort, but it did nothing to relieve her. The older woman dipped the bright yellow scarf into the water once more. She pulled out the saturated material. The sun shone through, highlighting the floral pattern. Niti folded it several times until it was a thick wet square.
“You take the cloth and place it on the baby’s face.”
Asha immediately reached for her throat, struggling to keep her lunch down. “You’ll suffocate her.” Then Asha realized that was indeed the woman’s intention.
“It won’t take much time. It’s like going to sleep, beta.”
“No…no,” was all Asha could say, panic clinging to every cell in her body, like the water clung to the cloth.
Niti threw the wet cloth at her. It slapped her head, the lukewarm water coating her face.
“You think we don’t have to make sacrifices in this life? You think I didn’t have to? These things are required of us. They are our penance in life.”
Asha waited until Niti was back in the house. She took the wet cloth in her shaking hand. She placed it over her face and tried to breathe. It felt heavy, uncomfortable, and after a few seconds, unbearable.
She rubbed her belly in slow circles. “I will die before I let anyone hurt you,” she vowed in a steadfast whisper.
Asha steadied herself to let go of her pride and seek help from the one person who could save her baby.
* * * *
“They’ll kill the baby if it’s a female. Sarah, I don’t want my baby to die. Please help me protect it.”
“Dear God in heaven,” Sarah said, making the sign of the cross. She put a hand on each of Asha’s arms. “I will figure this out. Leave it to me. You just do one thing, honey.”
“What, Sister?”
“Pray.”
Asha did two things. First, she prayed as she’d never prayed before. Second, she ripped up the ugly yellow scarf and tossed the shredded material into the river. As she watched the waters carry the remnants downstream she stood taller than she had in a long time.
Chapter 19
“Wow, who is he and where has he been up until now?” Geet asked, shoulder bumping Shyla.
Shyla followed her co-worker’s gaze. Her mouth parted at the sight of Nick Dorsey in running pants and a NYU hooded sweatshirt. Even in those simple clothes, he made a dramatic entrance.
The girls stood in the kitchen, looking out the window to the eating area. Most patrons didn’t realize the tiny window’s existence. Its purpose was to see if customers came in, but very few of them looked back.
Geet continued with her guessing game. “I bet h
e’s a movie star or maybe a model.”
“Why do you care?”
“If he’s famous, mommy and papa will want his photo for our wall. Do you see the scar on his face? How can a disfigurement be so…so hot? I wonder if its makeup.” She peered closer, pushing Shyla out of the way. “He’s definitely a model. I would guess an underwear model. What do you think, Shyla?”
Shyla walked to the sink, her nerves on edge at the sight of Nick invading her little world. Geet was right. The man wasn’t just handsome. He was striking with the kind of presence that caused even the most composed women to become giddy, not that Geet needed much assistance there. Shyla washed her hands in the sink, wringing out her nervousness in the process.
“That’s Mr. Fifteen C, Bleecker Street, Geet.”
Geet’s jaw dropped. “OMGS. You’re kidding.”
“OMGS?”
“Oh my Gods…plural.” They both shared a laugh before Geet’s expression turned skeptical. “That’s Mr. turkey tom on whole wheat? Shit, why didn’t I do those deliveries? What have you been keeping from me?”
“His name is Nick Dorsey.”
“Why is he here?”
Shyla gave a non-committal shrug, even though she had an answer to Geet’s query. He was here for her. They both quieted as Nick made his way toward the cash register. Even from her limited sight line, Shyla could see Adesh’s welcoming smile. “May I help you?”
“Is Shyla working?”
Adesh’s pleasant expression turned sour. “She’s on a delivery.”
“I’m right here,” Shyla said, opening the door from the kitchen.
“I meant to say I’m sending her on a delivery.”
Nick’s face reflected annoyance, but once he turned his attention to Shyla, he smiled softly. “Can we talk?”
“She can’t,” Adesh snapped. “She’s working.”
“Yes, I can. I’m taking my break now,” Shyla said, surprised her voice didn’t waver.
Adesh’s harsh stare was chockfull of judgment and criticism. “You never take a break.”
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