If Today Be Sweet

by Thrity Umrigar

  Tehmina swallowed. “I know. Believe me, I know. Ten times a day I tell myself I’m an ungrateful old woman. It’s because of Sorab that I can’t decide what to do. Part of me wants to stay here and help—you know, help relieve my children’s burdens as much as I can. I want to cook for my Sorab, be home when Cookie gets home from school. Eva,” Tehmina cried. “This is not a decision that I expected to make at my age. It was hard enough that my only child left us when he was twenty-one. I didn’t think that someday I would also have to follow him to a new country.”

  Eva’s lower lip trembled. “Oh, honey. It’s okay. Oh, my dear Tammy, this is so hard, I know. You know, they call us Jews a wandering people. We’re used to living like birds, I suppose, going from place to place. But you…most people have only one place they call home. I understand, honey, I swear I do. This is a big decision to make.”

  “And Rustom’s not here to help me make it. That’s the strange part. I find myself looking for Rustom to decide for me. And then I remember—he’s the whole reason I’m faced with this decision in the first place.”

  “It becomes like skin, another’s life,” Eva murmured. “If you’re married for a long time, the other becomes as familiar as skin.”

  Tehmina nodded gratefully. “That’s what I can’t explain to anyone. Susan, Sorab, they all expect me to…why, just this week Susan snapped at me because I mentioned my husband’s name.”

  Eva clicked her tongue. “What can you expect, Tammy? Your daughter-in-law, nothing against her, but she’s a goy. These white people—they’re good at making the buses run on time. Everything else, anything that needs a ticking heart, forget it.”

  “But you’re white,” Tehmina protested.

  “Yes, but not white like Susan. Not like my daughter-in-law. I’m more like you, Tammy. I know the world is made of blood and pus and sweat and shit. And I’m not afraid of that. People like your daughter-in-law, they think the world is sugar and spice. And the strange thing is, that for people like them, that’s the face the world wears.”

  Thinking of Susan’s sallow, tired face when she got home from work, Tehmina felt a moment’s unease at Eva’s description of her daughter-in-law. Surely what Eva was saying was not true. Surely Susan had suffered, surely she had seen the dark side of the world, also. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the woman sitting beside her. “Eva,” she said. “I have a favor to ask, something I’ve wanted to ask for a long time.”

  Eva looked surprised. “You want to go somewhere else?” she said.

  “No. No, not like that. I wanted to ask—can you call me Tehmina instead of Tammy? After all, that’s my real name.”

  Eva grew still. Then she put her arm around Tehmina. “Sorry,” she said. “We Americans are so arrogant. We can’t get our tongues around somebody’s name, so we expect them to change their names for us. Happened to so many of my ancestors, too. And here I am…” She shook her head. “Anyway, it will be my honor to call you by your real name, Tehmina. And I’ll make sure the ladies in our card club do so, too.”

  “I don’t care what they call me,” Tehmina said. “I just…it’s you that I wanted to use my name, that’s all.”

  Eva pushed her bulk out of the car. “I’m flattered. It’s settled. Tehmina, it is. Now come on. Let’s go buy some fruits and veggies before they get all picked over.”

  Tehmina loved being at the farmers’ market. She felt comfortable and human, here. The dirty, stagnant water on the floor, the shouts of the brown-skinned, sweaty vendors competing for customers to sample their wares, even the smell of rotting fruit and fresh fish, all felt familiar to her. Shopping at the farmers’ market was like shopping in Bombay—noisy, crowded, buzzing with activity. Touching the fruit and vegetables, occasionally haggling with the vendors, tasting their offered samples of cut fruit, all made her feel human, like the market was rooted in a section of the world she still recognized and lived in. What a contrast it was to the antiseptic, air-conditioned, clean, brightly lit supermarket where the children shopped for their groceries. A place where tomatoes and zucchini came wrapped in plastic trays and where people looked at you funny if you touched a piece of fruit and held it up to your nose. Not that smelling the fruit made any difference—none of the fruits and vegetables in the grocery stores of America had any scent or flavor to them, anyway. It was as if the country was so enthralled with size and color—the bananas and the peaches and the apples were all bigger than anything Tehmina had ever seen in Bombay—that it had forgotten that fruit was more than decoration. To bite into an American apple or an orange was to taste disappointment. Nothing burst with flavor, nothing tasted as sweet or as tangy the way fruits did in Bombay. Even the roses of America had no perfume to them, a fact that Tehmina still couldn’t quite accept.

  Now, winding her way down the market’s narrow aisles, she felt giddy with excitement and a strange, deep satisfaction. She felt as if she had rejoined the human race, that she was engaged in an activity that connected her with the rest of the world. From the markets of Istanbul to the bazaars of Bombay, this is what women did—they held and touched the food they were later to cook, they spoke and argued and joked with the men and women selling them that food. Unlike at the grocery stores, no sheet of plastic protected the fruits and vegetables until they themselves tasted of plastic; no clean-shaven man in a spotless, white coat looked at her with silent distaste if she touched an object and then put it back. The grocery stores looked like they were built for a race of perfect beings; the farmers’ market was built to human scale, a place for ordinary, fallible human beings.

  There was another thing both Tehmina and Eva enjoyed about coming here. “Look at that one,” Eva was now saying, nudging Tehmina. “I think I see her every time I’m here.” They both smiled at the sight of a short, old, dark-skinned woman walking around in a white fur coat, looking as imperial as any queen, inspecting the bell peppers and the carrots as if they were her royal subjects. Right next to her shuffled a ragged-looking man, his eyeglasses held together with tape and holes in his dirty winter coat. That was the amazing thing about the market—it was a pageantry of humanity, as if a kind of democracy was sprouting between the garlic and the bok choy. Tehmina thought again of the grocery store where Sorab and Susan shopped. How dull, how uniform the people who shopped there looked, much like the houses in their development. Everybody in the supermarket looked healthy and clean and well scrubbed, with none of the individuality and the colorful eccentricities that the shoppers at the market wore on their interesting, multicolored faces.

  Tehmina loved leaving the anemic suburban streets of Rosemont Heights and coming into Cleveland. Why couldn’t the children have bought a house in downtown Cleveland instead? she now lamented, although she knew the answer. Sorab had told her last month, the night after Thanksgiving when they had gone to Public Square to witness the ceremonial lighting of the Christmas tree. Despite the frigid night air, Tehmina had been warm that night. Perhaps she was warmed by the hot cider and the hot chocolate that Sorab bought for all of them as they shivered through the interminably long speeches by the city leaders, waiting for the moment when Public Square would erupt in a burst of red and green lights. But it was more than that, Tehmina knew. What had warmed her soul was the crowd of ten thousand people, all huddled together, all leaning slightly toward one another, a mass of bodies seeking warmth and closeness and refuge in one another. And what a crowd it had been. Cheerful, boisterous, good-natured. They cheered lustily for the high school bands and the local DJ who was emceeing the show; they booed lustily each time a new politician took the stage. The crowd was made up of people of every race and color, every class background, so that men in fine wool coats were exchanging pleasantries with the homeless men who spent their days hanging out at Public Square, men whose shoes had holes in them. There were ten thousand of them there for the tree-lighting ceremony, but to Tehmina it had seemed as if they were one. One mass, one organism, moving together in time to the music, inha
ling the frigid air together, exhaling clouds of frozen breath together. It was wonderful. It was exhilarating. And it made Tehmina feel totally different from what she felt like in Rosemont Heights. In this crowd, it was easy to disappear, to leave behind her own body and become as vacant, as limitless, as expansive as the sky. A part of a whole. Whereas in Rosemont Heights, she was self-conscious of her body, felt the weight of her head as it balanced on her neck, the heaviness of her hands as they hung by her sides, the tingling pressure of her brown skin. She knew that there was another biracial couple living in Evergreen Estates. And that a Chinese-American doctor lived the next street over. But other than that, the housing colony felt uniformly similar. No men with holes in their shoes and whiskey on their breath lived in Evergreen Estates. And even if they did, nobody would laugh and talk to them the way the well-dressed men were doing right now.

  She turned to Sorab, careful to modulate her voice so that he could hear her over the music but that Susan could not. “Do people live in downtown Cleveland?” she asked.

  “Some people do, these days,” he yelled into her ear, over the music. “Mostly young singles, though. Not too many families.”

  “Why not?” she asked, hoping he didn’t hear the wistfulness in her voice. “It’s such a beautiful place.”

  Sorab made a face. “The schools are terrible, Mamma. There’s no way we’d send Cookie to Cleveland schools.” Then, following her gaze as she looked at the point where Terminal Tower touched the sky, “The buildings are beautiful, I’ll grant you that. But you should see this place most days after the office crowd leaves. It’s a ghost town. No one here except the winos. It’s no place to raise a family.”

  Despite herself, the words escaped her lips. “It reminds me of South Bombay. Of some of the old, majestic buildings, like the Elphinston College building and VT station. And doesn’t Terminal Tower remind you of the old Bombay University tower?”

  Sorab shrugged his shoulders. “Not really. I mean, it’s a different kind of architecture.” Then his face softened. “If I’d known this would make you sentimental about Bombay, we’d have stayed home tonight.” He smiled. “This was meant to cheer you up.”

  “Oh, I’m happy to be here. Very happy.” She took his gloved hand in hers and squeezed it hard. “How can I not be happy when my son is with me?”

  Now Tehmina sighed heavily, and although Eva had seemed distracted by the sign that said LIMES, 10 FOR $1, she noticed. “What’s wrong, Tamm—Tehmina? Why’re you wheezing like an old train?”

  “Oh, I was just thinking.” She turned toward Eva, her face moist with the mist of memory. “I wish you’d come visit me in Bombay. There’s—we have this market called Crawford Market? I wish you could see that. Oh my God, you should see the fruits there, Eva. Just the mangoes alone…and then we have a fruit called custard apple and another called chikoo. A chikoo almost looks like a kiwi fruit, you know. But it’s sweet as sugar from the inside.”

  Eva clucked her tongue. “You always get sentimental when we come to the farmers’ market,” she said. “But I knew coming here would cheer you up. Nothing like home, eh, Tammy?”

  Tehmina was about to answer when she felt someone push her gently on her side. She moved away slightly, but the second nudge was accompanied by a familiar voice. “Hey, hey, lady,” the young voice said, and Tehmina looked down and saw it was one of the boys from next door. It was the younger one, looking up at her with a wide grin on his face. Tehmina noticed his long eyelashes and big brown eyes.

  “Well, hello,” she said heartily, hoping he would not notice that she had forgotten his name. “How are you? And how’s your brother?”

  “I’m fine,” a soft voice said shyly behind her, and as she swung around in the direction of the second voice, she remembered both their names. Jerome and Josh. Of course.

  “I knew it was you soon’s I saw you,” Josh said, looking so pleased with himself that Tehmina had to fight the urge to bend down and plant a kiss on his head. “I’m the one who saw you first, not Jerome.” He looked around. “Is Cookie here?”

  “I’m very pleased you said hello,” Tehmina replied. “And no, Cookie is—he’s at a class.”

  “But school’s out.” Jerome looked puzzled.

  “I know. But Cookie goes to a—special class.” Tehmina looked at Eva for help. “This is my friend Eva. And these are my two friends, Joshy and Jerome. They live…in the house next door to us.” She and Eva exchanged quick looks. Eva had known Antonio, though Tehmina wasn’t sure if she’d ever met Tara or the boys.

  Both boys were suddenly shy, mumbling their hellos. Eva looked around. “Who are you with?” she asked. “Where’s your mamma?”

  Jerome eyed Eva suspiciously, but Joshy answered her. “She’s gone to the inner market to buy hot dogs.” He lowered his voice. “Jerome’s scared of going in there because that’s where they sell the dead animals and stuff.”

  “I’m not scared,” Jerome replied immediately. “I just stayed here to protect you.”

  “Uh-uh. You are, too. Mamma said you’re a big fat scaredy-cat.”

  Jerome looked ready to punch his little brother and Tehmina knew it was time to step in. “I hate going into the inner market, also,” she said. “I’m so afraid of it. That’s why I always bring my friend Eva with me.”

  Jerome eyed Eva’s bulk and nodded. “That’s ’cause she’s older than you,” he said solemnly.

  Tehmina turned to Eva to see if she was offended, but Eva was hiding her laughter behind her handkerchief. Only the jiggling of her arms gave her away. “That’s right,” she said. “I’m at least four hundred years old.”

  Both boys giggled. “Naw, you’re not,” Jerome said. “You’re funny,” he added.

  “Well, how old do you think I am?”

  Jerome stared at her for the longest moment. “You’re at least thirty-eight,” he said finally.

  Both Tehmina and Eva burst out laughing. “A regular charmer this one is.” Eva turned to Tehmina. “Children and flowers,” she said. “How can anyone doubt God exists as long as there’s children and flowers?”

  Joshy tugged at the side of Tehmina’s tunic. “I’m hungry,” he said urgently.

  Jerome smacked his brother on his back. “You’re always hungry,” he said contemptuously. “My mom says he has a tapeworm or something. She says he’s a little beggar, always asking for food.”

  Tehmina thought of the million different games she had devised to make Sorab eat his dinner when he was a young boy, how she had felt as if her belly got full with every bite her beloved son ate. She couldn’t imagine a mother begrudging her little boy his food. “Did you eat breakfast today?” she asked cautiously, wanting and not wanting to know.

  “I had a cupcake,” Josh replied. “But that was ages ago.”

  “Would you like a banana?” Eva asked, reaching into her blue plastic bag.

  Josh made a face. “Bananas are slimy,” he said. “You got some candy?”

  “Not good to have so much sugar so early in the morning, sonny,” Tehmina began, but she noticed the boys were not listening. She followed the line of Josh’s vision and saw that he had spotted his mother approaching them. The boy’s face lit up. “Mommy,” he cried.

  Something died in Tehmina when she saw the bitter hostility on Tara’s face. The woman’s eyes looked mean as she approached them, and despite the red blotches, her face seemed gray under the smoke of her cigarette. I really don’t like this woman, Tehmina thought with surprise. It was so rare that she took a dislike to someone. Still, for the boys’ sake, she forced her face into a pleasant smile. “Hello, Tara,” she said.

  Tara looked at her as if she had caught Tehmina in the act of kidnapping her children. “Hi,” she mumbled, and then immediately turned her attention to Jerome. “I told you boys to stand near the side door,” she said, smacking his finger out of his mouth. “What’re you doing, walking around and talking to—people.” She flung a contemptuous look at Tehmina.

  T
ehmina could feel her face flush at the obvious insult. “The children were just being polite,” she said, hearing the frostiness in her own voice. “They recognized me and just came up to say hello.”

  Tara looked at the older woman insolently, letting her glance fall slowly from the top of Tehmina’s head to her feet and then looking her straight in the face. Tehmina fought the urge to squirm under Tara’s dismissive gaze. “Oh yeah?” she said indifferently. “Well, they’re not allowed to talk to strangers.”

  Beside her, Tehmina heard Eva emit something that sounded suspiciously like a growl. But before any of the adults could say anything, an impatient Joshy interrupted them. “Mommy, I’m hungry,” he said urgently. “Can we go to Mickey D’s?”

  Tara reacted as if the boy had asked for a thousand-dollar check. “I just spent three bucks on your goddamn hot dogs,” she said as she grabbed Josh by his arm, pulled him toward her, and began to move away. “You brats think that money grows on trees. If your good-for-nothing father paid his child support, maybe I could afford to…” The rest of her words were swallowed up as Tara walked away, pulling Josh with her. Jerome flung a hasty but forlorn look at Tehmina and then followed behind them.

  “Whew,” Eva said. “What was that? That woman is a—you know, the word that rhymes with witch.”

  Tehmina nodded. “She’s a nasty woman,” she said, and was surprised at the fact that her voice was shaking with emotion. “She doesn’t deserve those two sweet boys. Earlier this week, she left them alone for a half hour after they came home from school. The last day of school it was, if I remember correctly. Susan and I—we took them in. Susan wasn’t happy about it, let me tell you. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with that Tara. Sometimes we even hear her late at night, yelling and screaming at those children.”

  “Poor things,” Eva said, shaking her head. “You know, you all should complain about that woman to the housing association or something. About disturbing the peace. Was that Antonio soft in the head that he rented his home to such an awful woman, anyhow?”