Sorab glanced at his mother. “Yes, well. It’s just that…they don’t exactly fit into this neighborhood, you know what I’m saying, Tony?”
Antonio stared at Sorab for a second and then guffawed. Mother and son exchanged looks of puzzlement while Antonio laughed and laughed until his eyes leaked water. “What’s so funny?” Sorab started to ask, but Antonio just shook his head, helpless with laughter.
“Don’t fit into this…sorry, sorry,” Antonio said finally, wiping the tears from his eyes. “It’s just…God, man, what a diplomat you are, Sorab.” He leaned toward Sorab, and put his hand on his knee. “You know me, right? Zero tolerance for bullshit. So I’ll tell you the truth. Listen, you and I both know what this woman is. There’s a word for it—white trash.” Seeing Tehmina wince, he nodded respectfully in her direction. “Pardon me, Tammy, dear. But I’m talking to Sorab here, man-to-man.”
He fixed his gray eyes back onto Sorab’s embarrassed face. “So here’s the deal. I promised Marita I’d let her freeloader sister live here until the house sells. Help her get back on her feet. As you know, moving to the country was my idea. Marita didn’t want to leave the old neighborhood. Serves me right, marrying a woman almost fifteen years younger than me. Anyways, she was sure she’d be bored to tears in the countryside. Says she’ll move only one one condition. And so I agree to let Tara stay here, just to keep my missus happy. A compromise, you can say.”
“But, Antonio,” Sorab interrupted. “Tara can be so difficult. Rap music playing till late at night and loud. And my God—the way she yells at her children…” He shuddered.
“Spoiled brats, that’s what they are.” Antonio nodded, as if in sympathy. “And listen, you have my permission to tell her to keep her music down.” Then the line of his usually humorous mouth grew tighter. “Sorry, Sorab. But I have to think of my home life. And anyway, I can’t turn a single mother and her children out on the streets, can I? Besides, look, this is only for a few more months. Hopefully, I can unload that house as soon as the weather breaks.”
Now Tehmina wondered how much of the conversation with Antonio Sorab had repeated to Susan. “Antonio said he’ll sell the house in the spring,” she said cautiously.
“Well, then I can’t wait for spring to arrive,” Susan snapped. Then, gazing at the miraculously blue December sky, she smiled. “I can’t wait for spring to arrive,” she repeated. “Although, today, it feels like it’s already here.”
Tehmina carried the memory of that smile indoors with her as she took two slices of daar-ni-pori out of the fridge and turned on the oven to heat them. Thank God Susan had a sweet tooth, just like the family she’d married into, she thought. They would eat the warmed pastry along with the tea.
When Cookie burst into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, it seemed to Tehmina as if the day got even brighter than before. “Mummy’s home, Mummy’s home, Mummy’s home,” the boy yelled. “And Granna, too,” he added as he hurled himself at Tehmina’s belly for his afternoon hug. “Yeeeaah. Let’s call Dad and ask him to come home, too.”
Tehmina felt a gust of love so strong, for a minute she thought a window was open. Such a boy this is, she thought to herself, as warm and affectionate as a young puppy. “You are the best hugger in the world,” she whispered as she kissed the top of Cavas’s head. In response, the boy squeezed even harder, until Tehmina pretended to gasp for breath. “Where’s your mummy?” she asked, and then, “Go upstairs and change your clothes and then come straight down, okay?”
“Okay.” Cavas grinned. “Wait for me right here.”
Tehmina left the kitchen to look for Susan. She frowned. The front door was still open.
She found Susan in the driveway with the two Jones boys.
Susan turned toward her before she could say hello to Jerome and Joshua. “This is incredible,” she said to Tehmina, as if the two boys were not present. “Seems their mother is not home and the boys are locked out of their own house. We’re hoping she gets back soon.”
Tehmina glanced at the two boys. Jerome was seven, Cavas’s age, while Joshua was five. Both boys had sharp, birdlike faces, with brown eyes and thin noses. Right now, both noses were running and Josh was trying to get rid of the snot by inhaling it and simultaneously wiping his nose on the back of his hand. The boys’ white faces also had streaks of black, as if they’d spent the afternoon cleaning chimneys. Gazing at their necks, she saw lines of gritty black and her fingers itched at the thought of putting those boys in hot water and scrubbing the grit off those necks.
Funny, Tehmina thought to herself, how poor white children always look so much dirtier than poor children in India. Either the dirt didn’t show as much against brown skin or what she’d always heard about cleanliness being next to godliness in Hindu culture was true. She remembered how, when her car drove past the slums in Bombay, she often saw groups of slum women returning to their homes, carrying large copper pots of water on their heads. From the same pot of water they probably cooked, washed their dishes, and bathed their children. So why was it that here in America, where everyone had running water and everything, there were still children who looked like Jerome and Joshua?
Tehmina’s indignation gave way to pity. “I’m making Cavas an afternoon snack,” she said to Susan. “Maybe these boys are hungry, too.”
Susan shot Tehmina a disbelieving look. How could you do this to me? the look seemed to say, but Tehmina looked away. Just then, Josh spoke up. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a house,” he said loudly.
Jerome slapped his brother on the shoulder. “No you’re not,” he said. “Besides, Mamma will be home soon.” And as if to convince the two adults eyeing them, Jerome added, “Joshy is always hungry. My mom says he must have worms or something.”
This time, Tehmina stared directly at her daughter-in-law, silently willing her to do the right thing. Susan stared back at the older woman and then lowered her eyes. “Tell you what,” she said to the two boys. “Why don’t you come in and have some hot chocolate while we wait for your mommy? What’d you say, Jerome?”
They all waited in silence while Jerome looked intently at Susan for a minute. “You’re pretty,” he said suddenly, as if that had been the question before him. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Thanks a lot, Mom,” Susan muttered silently as the boys rushed in ahead of the two women. But Tehmina could hear the smile in her voice. I must remember this the next time Susan is upset with me, Tehmina said to herself. When faced with a question, answer it with a compliment.
The boys sat at the kitchen bar, waiting for their hot chocolate. “I like the pretty pictures you have on your walls,” Josh declared. “We got no pictures in our house.”
Jerome hissed at his younger brother. “We do, too,” he said. “I’m gonna tell Mom you told a big fat lie. You have a picture of Jesus in the Garden right above your bed.”
“That don’t count,” Josh replied. “I mean, pictures of lakes and birds and flowers and stuff.”
Just then Cavas walked into the kitchen, wearing his blue jeans and clutching his Calvin and Hobbes book. “Hi, Jerome; hi, Joshy,” he said, as if finding the two boys in his home was the most common thing in the world.
“Come sit down, Cavas,” Tehmina said, pointing to the bar stool beside the kitchen counter. “Your hot chocolate will be ready in a minute.”
The two boys giggled and poked each other in the ribs. “Cow ass,” Jerome repeated. “She called you cow ass.”
“Granna,” Cavas said through gritted teeth, his eyes filling with tears of embarrassment. “Stoppit, please.” He turned to his visitors. “My real name is Cookie.”
The two boys giggled even more. “If you’re a Cookie, I’m gonna eat you,” Josh said, lunging at Cavas.
“What kind of a cookie are you?” Jerome added. “Chocolate chip? A sugar cookie?”
Josh licked his lips. “I love sugar cookies,” he said. “Yummy, yummy, yummy.”
“Okay, boys, that’s enough.” Susan’s voice landed
like a whip. “This is just a family nickname for Cavas, you understand? You know, like your mommy calling you sugar pie or honey.”
“My mommy says my nickname is Trouble,” Josh announced proudly.
Tehmina suddenly felt something thin and metallic and sharp pierce her heart. Trouble. What kind of mother nicknames her son Trouble? She went to the fridge and pulled out two mutton cutlets left over from last night’s dinner. Sorab had asked her to save the cutlets for him to eat again tonight, but she knew he would understand. Ignoring Susan’s inquiring gaze, she warmed the cutlets in the microwave and then placed them on two of the chappatis that she had baked just this morning.
“Here,” she said. “Eat.”
Jerome looked at the cutlet on the plate in front of him and made a face. “Eww,” he said. “What’s that?”
“It’s a mutton cutlet. It’s good. You’ll like it. Taste it.”
“A cutlet? What’s that? And what’s mutton?”
“It’s a hamburger,” Susan said. “Take a bite. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.” She shook her head slightly so that only Tehmina caught the motion.
“I love McDonald’s hamburgers,” Josh said. “When I’m older, I’m gonna work at McDonald’s and eat three Big Macs a day.”
“Take a bite, beta,” Tehmina coaxed, rolling up the cutlet in the chappati and holding it up to Josh’s mouth. This boy was breaking her heart each time he opened his mouth.
The boy bit into the sandwich. “It’s good,” he said, and took a second bite before he had swallowed the first.
“Easy now, easy,” Susan said. “I don’t want any puking in my kitchen.”
For some reason, all three boys thought this was hilarious. “No puking in the kitchen,” Jerome said as he proceeded to wolf down his sandwich. “I don’t want no puke in my kitchen.”
Tehmina leaned against the refrigerator, smiling at the boys. Nothing gave her as much satisfaction as feeding people. It was as if feeding others fed her own appetite. Rustom always used to say, “Two things you should never refuse another human being—food and education.” As always, her dear Rustom was right about this, also. Tehmina sighed.
Hearing her sigh, Cavas turned to his grandmother. “Granna,” he said. “Where’s your tea?”
Tehmina gave a short laugh. “Oh dear,” she said. “In all this hustle-bustle I forgot to make any tea.”
“Hustle-bustle,” Jerome repeated, giggling to himself. “Hustle-bustle. Piggy-wiggy. Wig-wam.”
Cavas shook his head at Jerome. “You’re silly,” he declared. He turned his head to face Tehmina. “Granna,” he called. “I want you to drink your tea out of the mug I got you for your birthday.”
Tehmina and Susan exchanged an amused look. This was Cavas’s way of apologizing to his grandmother for his earlier outburst. Tehmina’s heart rattled with pride and pleasure. She wanted to go up to Cookie and kiss him on his sweet head, but she didn’t know if that would embarrass him even more in front of his friends. Instead, she contented herself by pulling out the coffee mug that read #1 GRANDMA.
She and Susan had barely sat down with their tea when they heard the distinctive rat-a-tat of the muffler on Tara’s car. Tehmina saw Susan’s eyes narrow. “Well, sounds like your mother’s home,” she said to the boys.
“I don’t want to go home,” Josh said. “I want to stay here.”
Tehmina wanted to slit open her belly, hide Josh in there and keep him where he’d be safe and warm forever. Never again would anybody ever call the boy Trouble. Never again would that Tara yell and scream at this child. But Susan had other ideas. “No can do, soldier,” she said, getting to her feet. “Your mom’s gonna be worried when she sees you’re not in the yard. Come on, I’ll walk you over.”
“I’ll come, too,” Tehmina said. She had never before taken a good look at the woman next door, never noticed anything past the blotchy skin and the unkempt hair. Now she wanted to look deep into the eyes of a woman who could take two precious gifts from God and refer to them as Trouble. She wanted to know what she would see in the eyes of such a woman.
“There you are,” Tara called as she saw all of them cross their front yard and head toward her driveway. She slapped Jerome lightly on his head as he approached her. “You little brat,” she said. “I’m gone for two minutes and you’re up to God knows what mischief. How many times have I told you not to go into people’s homes?”
Susan spoke up. “In fairness to Jerome, he refused our invitation at first,” she said. “He only came when we insisted that he not wait for you outdoors. After all, even a sunny day like this would get cold for a child.”
Tara stared at a spot beyond Susan’s shoulders. “I wasn’t gone that long,” she mumbled. She nodded toward her car. “With that junky car, they know I never go too far.”
“As a matter of fact, the children were at our house for probably over a half hour,” Susan said evenly. “That’s too long to leave two young children alone.”
Tara narrowed her eyes. “Look, lady, I don’t need anybody monitoring my comings and goings. I’m thankful and all that, but next time just let my kids wait…”
Susan’s lips had almost disappeared and her voice was quiet and steady. “I hope there won’t be a next time, Tara,” she said. “The fact is, it’s against the law to—”
Tara snorted. “Hey, I know damn well what the law says. I don’t need nobody to teach me the law. I’ve lived in this country my whole life, so believe me, I know what’s what and…”
Tehmina felt Susan stiffen by her side. “What did you mean by that remark?” she asked, and her voice had December frost in it. “What does living in this country or not living in this country your whole life have to do with following the law?”
“Hey, hey, don’t lose it, lady. I didn’t mean nothing by that remark. I mean, I wasn’t even thinking of you being married to a foreigner—that’s your business, not mine.” She looked at Tehmina and nodded. “I got nothing against Indian people or Chinese people or black people. I…I just don’t like to be talked down to, that’s all.”
Beside his mother, Josh started whimpering. “Mommy, I’m cold,” he sniffed. “Come on, Mommy, let’s go in.”
Susan turned on her heels and took Tehmina by the elbow and Cavas by his hand. “Yes, it’s time for us to go in. We’ve lost enough of our afternoon to all this.”
“Hey, lady, look, no hard feelings,” Tara yelled after them. “Thanks for watching my boys for me.” Tehmina wanted to turn back to respond, but Susan’s grip on her elbow tightened.
“Just keep walking, Mom,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
Back in the kitchen, their tea had grown cold. “So much for a nice, peaceful day off.” Susan sighed. “Just wasted an hour of my day.” She turned to her son. “Go upstairs and read for a little while, baby. Then we want to go out and do some more Christmas shopping before Daddy gets home, okay?”
Tehmina wanted to ask Susan about whether she believed that Tara had meant to disparage Sorab; she wanted to thank her for leaping to her husband’s defense. She wanted to know more about this kind of casual racism, how common it was and whether it made Susan vulnerable, being married to a brown man. And if Susan felt it and had experienced it, surely it meant that Sorab—Sorab, despite his pressed clothes, his groomed fingernails, his American accent, his gold watch, his good job, his many degrees—surely her Sorab experienced it, too. Tehmina’s stomach clenched at the thought of some ignorant fool like Tara spewing poison that could affect even a hair on her son’s precious head.
“That woman is a junglee,” she said to Susan. “Why God gives people like Tara such sweet children, I’ll never know.”
Susan shrugged. “Just goes to show. Any fool can have a child. The sad part is, those boys are going to grow up to be wild. You can already see the aggression in the older one. I don’t want them to be around our Cavas anymore.” She turned to face her mother-in-law. “You have a good heart, Mom. I really appreciate t
hat, but I want you to listen to me—I don’t ever want to have those boys over again. I hope you can respect my decision.”
Tehmina’s face clouded over. Before she could reply, Susan spoke again. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she said. “But I really need to ask this of you.”
“Sure,” she mumbled, but her mind was somewhere else. Because Tehmina had heard what Susan was too polite to say—when you’re in my house, you follow my orders. For a moment, she thought longingly of her large apartment in Bombay, an apartment that was sitting empty while she decided where she wanted to spend the rest of her life, in which country she wanted to live out her days. India or America. In her wildest dreams she had not imagined that she would have to make the same choice that Sorab had made years earlier. But then, in her wildest dreams she had not imagined that Rustom would drop dead of a heart attack and leave her to live out her life without him.
As Susan turned away with a satisfied smile, Tehmina thought: You think you know me, my daughter-in-law, but you don’t. For instance, I bet you don’t know that I’m a space traveler. But I am. And I do. In my mind, I travel through time and space in ways you cannot even dream of—from Ohio to Bombay to Ohio again; from the land of the living to the land of the dead, where my Rustom resides; from my wallpapered bedroom in this house, to my painted bedroom in Bombay, of which I know every inch—where the embroidered handkerchiefs are kept in the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers; what books are on the bedside table; the color of the frame that holds the painted picture of Lord Zoroaster that Rustom got me for my fiftieth birthday.
Yes, I may be older than you, Susan, and my knees may creak when I get up in the morning, but I can run faster and fly higher than you will ever know.
If Today Be Sweet Page 2