Her hands shook as she held the phone. She felt as if Peter were here with them, as if he’d knocked down the front door and entered her and Sudhir’s inviolate space. She felt nauseated. She’d made it pretty clear to Peter on the day after Sudhir had returned home that she couldn’t see him again. He had seemed to understand. What had happened to make him text her?
“Honey?” Sudhir called. “You coming back?”
“Coming,” she answered, shoving the phone in her pocket.
“Who was it?” Sudhir asked as she reentered the room. “It’s kinda late.”
Her mind froze for a second. “Gloria,” she said, mentioning the first name she could think of, their common friend from grad school days who now lived in La Jolla.
“Gloria,” Sudhir said affectionately. “How is she? What’s she saying?” He patted the couch, asking her to sit back down.
But Maggie continued to stand. “She’s fine. Just saying hi.” She feigned a yawn. “You know what? You mind if I go upstairs? I have a few emails to send, and then I want to start getting ready for bed. You care?”
He shrugged. “No, go ahead. I’ll soon be up myself.”
She climbed the carpeted stairs, a sick feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d lied to Sudhir. What a mistake it had been, getting involved with Peter.
In her study, she studied the text message again. Would it be better to not respond at all? Or to write back and tell him she was busy? What could Peter want with her, anyway? “Need to see you again.” What did he mean by that? That he missed her? Or had something happened that he needed to let her know? Had someone seen her entering his house?
She found herself flipping through her phone calendar. She could slip out from the hospital between one and three on Thursday. Surely a quick lunch wouldn’t hurt anything. She could even tell Sudhir about it. That might not be a bad thing, actually.
Even as she thought about it, she gave up that idea. Sudhir hadn’t been too impressed by Peter during his first stint at the university. What had he said when they’d visited an exhibit of Peter’s war photographs at the university museum? That he found the pictures self-aggrandizing. And Maggie, who had been immediately and intensely attracted to Peter, was in no position to argue, for fear of making Sudhir suspicious, especially since she had a hunch that he was aware of her attraction for Peter. No, she dare not mention Peter’s name or the fact that she’d seen him while Sudhir was away at a conference.
She sent Peter a quick text about lunch on Thursday, turned off the ringer, and waited. Sure enough, he texted her back a minute later. “Can’t wait to see you,” he wrote.
Despite herself, despite the fact that she could hear Sudhir making his way up the stairs, Maggie was aware of the inexplicable, embarrassing fact that the thought of seeing Peter again made her heart race.
14
THIS IS THE six week I catch the buses that bringing me to Maggie’s house. Both drivers knowing me now but today, I catch earlier bus to downtown. Husband ask why I leaf the house early but I not give proper answer and he not care because restaurant closed today. If I tells him the reason, he only call me stupid. Because before catching second bus, I make a small walk to the downtown park, to go sit at the riverside. My God, this river is so strong and quickly moving, compare to the little river that flow in my home village. Also, water so clean here and you can see little-little stones at the bottom. I wanting to take off my shoes and walk in the water as I do with Shilpa at home, but this is Am’rican river, and I not know if public allowed to walk in it. In this country, there is big signs saying to not walk on grass. In my home village, everyone walk on grass—cows, buffalo, old people, childrens, chicken, dogs. I think they not allow walking in this water.
But it so peaceful to sit here. First time since I come to Am’rica, I not with husband or Rehka or in restaurant or store or car or apartment. I’s all alone and I loves it. First time I feel everything not borrow. What I mean by that? When I with the husband, I seeing everything through his eyes—moon, sun, sky, tree, parking lot, store, everything. If he feeling sun too hot, I feeling upset. If he cursing the cold, I angry with snow. My brains not thinking my own thoughts. But just now I feeling cool breeze on my skin. The sun feel so nice on my body. The trees singing soft song that I am hearing. And my eyes, always burning from the hot oil and spice and onion chop in the kitchen, is sipping the green of the grass like I’s sipping a cold orange Fanta.
Two bench on the right, young man and woman playing music, singing Am’rican song on the guitar. It sound so beautiful, like church bell near our store. Other people in park claps when they finishing their song, and although I feels very shy, I claps, too. “Come on, Lakshmi,” I courage myself. “No one knowing you here. You in Am’rica now. You can claps, too.”
What I wants to know, what is this hot dog? Everyone in Am’rica eating it. At first I think it dog meat but now I know it make of beef. One time I ask the husband how it taste, and he make dirty face and say, “Chee-chee. In India, we not feed even stray animal such bad food.” But Rekha say it is number one foods in Am’rica, so I thinking husband not know.
In our religion, we not allow to eat beef, so I gets the shock when Maggie say her husband eat all meats. Maybe he convert to beef when he marry her? Sometime Maggie say something so fast, I confuse, but I ashame to ask her because then she think I stupid.
Because I give Bobby the statue of Lakshmi, he send me a present also. Bobby send me Maggie, I knows for sure. If I not tries the suicide, how I meet Maggie? Her husband not even shopping at our store, going to that cheater in Cedarville who always charging extra. So how else we could meet? Even though I not always understand Maggie, she so kind and patient with me. Always she courage me—Lakshmi, you not stupid, Lakshmi you not ugly, Lakshmi you great cook, Lakshmi you can go to night school to learn the proper English, Lakshmi in Am’rica you can do anything. And she show favor in my life. She ask many-many question about Shilpa and Dada and Ma and the husband. She even know about my Mithai, who I loves next to best after my sister and father. Nobody in my life ever want to hear my stories but her. Maggie is the important doctor but she never give tablet or injection. I ask her last time and she laugh and say she is story doctor. I laugh also but not understand the joke.
I knows it is time to walk to bus stop but I feeling so happy sitting at riverside. Dada always say the river is flowing in my body, I so loving water.
I open the schedule, check time of next bus. I can sit here for maybe five-ten more minutes. Stop is close by, only. A bee goes goos-goos-goos around my head and it sound like it praying. I feels sad thinking I must say good-bye to river soon, but then I have brand-new thought: I can make repeat here next week. Take early bus again and walk to this park. I am so excite by this thought, I feel a-choke, like I cannot breathing properly. Then I relax. I have learned to take two buses. I have not got lost once, even. My husband not knowing his wife enjoying scene-scenery in downtown, like a real Am’rican. I can do this again. I can come here every week.
Anytime I am prideful, God find way to punish me good-proper. So what you think? I miss second bus to Maggie’s house by two minute. So I has to wait for next one, and now I’s fifteen minute late. My heart sound thum-thum-thum like a tabla as I climbing hill of Maggie street. Other time I love to look at the big houses, the pretty flowerpots, the tall trees on Maggie street. But today I look not left or right, just straight and half-walking, half-running on pavement. I get to the driveway, turn left in it, my face cover with sweat, breathing sounding like bad brake on old truck, and—dhoom!—I runs straight into a tree or wall or building. It happen so soon I not able to look what I run in, because next thing, I is sleeping on my back, looking up at the sky. But then sky view is blocked, because man’s face looking at me, speaking something, his forehead pinch with worry. The man face brown like mine, and brown look so pretty over blue-sky background that I smiling.
“Can you hear me?” man saying. “Are you
okay?” I starts to shake head yes, but then his face turn and he calls, “Maggie? Can you come out? There’s been an accident.”
Now my breath moving again in my body and allow me to speak. “I okay,” I says. I tries to get up but man put hand on my shoulder.
“Just a minute. Maybe we should make sure nothing’s broken before you attempt to get up?”
Now I’s laughing. I put both hand behind me and lift up, so I sitting on the grass near driveway. “I okay,” I repeats. “When I young, my sister and I use to bet who can jump from taller tree. I always winning.” The Indian man smiling and this courage me to talk more. “My ma always say, ‘Beti, you fast as cheetah and strong as Mithai.’”
“Mithai?” He look puzzle.
I laugh. “Not mithai. Mithai. My elephant. In my home village. He my friend.”
“You jumped off trees and you had an elephant as a friend?” The man raise his eyebrow. “Some childhood, you had.”
Suddenly, I feel ascare. Does this man think I show-off? Or liar? Or loose woman, talking to mens on street? I straight my blouse and stand up. My backside paining but I don’t say anything.
“So, are you really fine?” he ask, and his caring remind me of Maggie. And next minute he say, “By the way, I’m Sudhir. Maggie’s husband.”
He give me hand for shake, but the husband angry if I touch stranger man’s hand. So I folds my hands, like proper Indian wife. “Namaste,” I says.
He looks surprise but then nodding. “Namaste. And you must be Lakshmi.”
“How you are knowing my name?”
He acting like I ask stupid question. “What? Should I not know the name of the woman who brings me wonderful food each week?”
I look at my empty hand. First time only, I bring no food this week. Husband get angry last evening. Say I giving away too much food to Maggie. Say I must to stop. Like fool woman, I listen.
I fold my hands again. “I so sorry, sir. I forgetting your food at home this week. But next week I bringing you tops food.”
“No, no, no. I don’t expect you to. Not every week.” Sudhir shake his head left to right.
“Lakshmi?” Maggie come down driveway. Her face going from smile to frown. “You’re really late. I was getting worried.” She turn to her husband. “What’re you still doing here?”
Sudhir point me with his chin. “We had an accident,” he say. “I knocked poor Lakshmi down to the ground. She seems to be all right, though.”
Maggie give Sudhir exact look Ma use to give Dada when he do stupid mistake. “What, were you texting while walking? Really, Sudhir. You can’t even be trusted to make your way to the car without knocking people down.”
Sudhir make funny face and wink me. He looking like old film star Shashi Kapoor, I thinking. So handsome.
Maggie give him quick kiss and say, “Bye. I’ll see you tonight. Call if you’re gonna be late.” She give him small push. “Now, go. Lakshmi’s already late for her session.”
“Next week I promise I brings you best food,” I say.
“And I promise to knock you down again,” he answer. Then he smile, wave, and walks to where his car park on street.
Maggie take my hand as we go toward back porch. “What happened? Why are you so late?”
I about to tells her about the river and the grass and how I feels without body when I sits there, but I don’t. I not know why I keep secret. But river is mine. I not wanting to share. Not even to Maggie. “I miss second bus,” I says, and she satisfy.
“Okay, so what’s on your mind this week?” Maggie ask, just like every week.
As if I have ghee in my mouth, the answer slip out. “Money,” I says.
“Okay,” Maggie say. She give couraging smile. “Go on.”
But I myself not knowing what I mean. Since I having no money of my own, why for it on my mind?
Then I looks down and see my empty hands. Hands that not carry a tiffin box today for Sudhir sahib. How ashame I feel when he thanks me for cooking. I’s poorer than beggar in my home village, I think. Even the low-caste Dalit farmers have some moneys of own. But I poor wife of rich businessman. The husband spend forty-fifty dollar every week on whiskey bottle. He treating his cardplayer friends to free food. He sending moneys to his sister in India every month. The husband only poor when he next to me. I works like a dog in his restaurant, in grocery store, but no salary. Even Menon sahib, who do so much favor to my family, who pay for my schooling, even he pay me little bit when I do accounts for his shop. But the husband is maha kanjoos. He see me as lime from which he squeeze last drop.
“Lakshmi?” Maggie foot move, as she doing when she in-patient. “Talk to me.”
I swallow knot that come into my throat. One hot tear fall on my hand. I staring at it, because it looking like jewel. This is the only jewelry you ever have, Lakshmi, I think, and then more jewels landing on my hand.
“Sweetie? There’s some Kleenex on the table if you need it. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“My husband not giving me any pocket money,” I say. “How you Am’ricans say? Allowance. I works and works in his business but I having no money of my own. Anythings I wants, I must to check with him first.”
“Why don’t you just take it?”
“Take how? From where?”
“I don’t know. Where does he keep his money? His wallet?”
Sometime Maggie so stupid, I get irritate with her. “How I can touch his wallet?” I ask. I know my voice loud but I can’t help. “He say he know if even ten cents missing.”
Maggie sit back in her chair. “As his wife, you have a legal right to half of what he owns, Lakshmi. You know that, right?”
I so angry, I cannot sit properly. Plus, my backside is paining. “What I wanting half of his stupid restaurant for? Or half of grocery store? What I do with them? Wear them on my head?” I pulls on skin between my thumb and finger. “I just wants to have some extra money. Like twenty or thirty dollars a week. Bas. Why he can’t give me that?”
“What would you do with that money, Lakshmi?”
But I not wanting to answer spending question. I wanting to answer earning question. I look at Maggie’s big backyard. So many-many flowers and trees. At the end of yard is view of whole town below. I saw last week when we took walk around the yard. “Maggie,” I says. “How you get to be rich in Am’rica? How you buying big house like this?”
Maggie look embarrass. “This is about you, Lakshmi,” she say, “So tell me, how do you think you can earn some money each month?”
I feel like if schoolteacher asking me question and I not knowing answer. “I don’t knows,” I say.
“Well, let’s make a list of what you’re good at. You know, what skills you have.”
I hear the husband voice come through my mouth. “I’s no good at anything. I big stupid.”
Maggie look angry. “Hey. We decided two weeks ago you wouldn’t talk about yourself like this. Remember?” She look at me quiet for minute and then she say, “You’re a very smart woman, Lakshmi. Now tell me, what are you good at?”
I wanting to tell Maggie but Ma always telling not to be show-off. But inside myself I think, I good at maths. Menon sahib say he make more money after I do accounting books for him. And I’s only fourteen years old then. And I takes good care of peoples. Shilpa, Dada, Ma. Last year Ma living, I doing everything for her because her fingers so twist. Shilpa at school all day, Dada working on our kheti. Ma and I’s alone at home. I combing her hair, giving bath, feeding her, brush teeth, moving her in bed. Best part, Ma never sad. I telling her joke per joke, giving her news of village, singing Kishore Kumar songs, telling dialogue from Amar, Akbar, Anthony movie, her favorite.
Maggie make noise in her throat, like water boil. She waiting for me to talk.
“I good at cleaning,” I say. “Sweeping, washing, making bed. Also, I likes to cook.” I looks out the window. “And I loving to do planting. On balcony of our apartment, I grow tomatoes, cilantro, everything. Al
l in pots.”
“Well, those are great skills. You could get work cleaning people’s homes. You could do landscaping for folks. Maybe do catering for parties? You have so much to offer, Lakshmi.”
I laughs but it sound like I chokes. “The husband not allow me to go to other people’s house to clean their dirt. Who he then going to get to help at store and restaurant? And we already do party catering. But he do all the cooking for that.”
Maggie look at me. Her lips get tight, like thin piece of string. After some time, I feels hot. Why she look at me and not saying anything? Maggie my only friend in Am’rica but still I not knowing her well. What she think?
She open her mouth. Her eyes look liquid, like ink. She lean forward in chair. “Lakshmi,” she say. “Every time I suggest something, you tell me why you can’t do it. It’s always ‘My husband don’t allow this and my husband won’t allow that.’ You never even try. You never ask him. You just assume things. You—”
“Please? What you mean by ‘assume’? I not understand word.”
“Assume. You know, believe. Take it as truth.”
“Ah. I understand.”
“Yes, well, here’s what I want to say: When I look at you, do you know what I see? I see a young woman who is smart, bright, full of life. A woman who is not happy with her life, who wants to make some changes. Who wants to be independent. But she’s scared. She isn’t willing to take any risks. But here’s the thing, Lakshmi. In order to grow, we have to take a chance. Even if it’s scary. Especially if it’s scary. Otherwise, nothing changes.”
I having so many feeling, I don’t know what to say. First I shy because Maggie say I smart, bright, and fool of life. I feeling prideful also. But then I’s angry because Maggie not understand my life. Her husband who look like Shashi Kapoor, allow her to joke him, kiss him in driveway. My husband look at me same way he look if small, hard piece of bone stick in his teeth when he eat goat curry. Like something bad happen to him. My husband not allow me to drive, to call my sister, to make friends, to watch TV if he sleeping. One time when we first marry, I begs him to take me to lakeside to see lake. You know what he did? He fill water in bathtub and say, You want to see water? Look. Lake is just like big bathtub.
The Story Hour Page 9