The worst part was the snoring. It was a complete nuisance. The only way she could sleep next to him was to have a drink herself. A tot of whisky would put her out like a light.
When she got back to Boston, she noticed she was late. One missed period hadn’t caused alarm. Stress. Travel. She was a little out of sync with the pill. The second time, she drove to the drug store in a frenzy.
The Northend apartment was empty when she returned with the testing kit. Each room smelled of lavender-scented bleach. Mr Anaesthesiology had been busy cleaning. Pity that Shailesh wouldn’t visit her while he lived there. That the rent was paid up for the whole year. And that she was alone.
All alone.
Paper and plastic rustled. Shook in her hands. Then ripped open with a giant roar. It hit the stream of urine. Her fingers warm and wet, holding the kit. One. Two. Three. Four.
The line was blue.
Blue positive.
Positively blue.
She knelt to the floor. Pants round her ankles. Head spinning. Heart racing. Flutter! Flutter! Finally, something good happening. Yes!
Oh God, no! She’d been drinking. The champagne at the Belvedere and that whisky in Shailesh’s room. Damn him for snoring so loudly.
Damn him!
She clambered up.
It would be all right. It would be okay.
Like a mantra, she chanted it. She hadn’t had much.
It would be all right. It would be okay.
All over the world babies were conceived on drink. But work and exams? Oh God! Her mother would have to stay. Shailesh had to get a job nearby. Oh God, Shailesh!
She picked up the phone. Shailesh wasn’t answering. She rang Dr Cray’s secretary. It was urgent, she told her.
A man’s voice came through in the background. A deep Southern drawl.
“That Shailesh guy? No, I haven’t seen him; he’s not around much.”
Her heart whooshed with panic. Dr Cray! Her hands shook. Whoosh! Flutter! Whoosh! Flutter!
The woman apologised. Her voice, like her nails, was acrylic.
She rang the house. Suresh picked up. He told her Shailesh was busy, with his new side job. Portering patients. They were short on staff and paying good money.
Portering! The father of her child?
Eventually she found Shailesh. He was panting, after running through the courtyard.
“No! Finish it!”
His voice boomed like thunder.
“I DON’T WANT ANOTHER CHILD RIGHT NOW! Seema is like a daughter.”
A shocked silence followed. She wasn’t even sure if he’d hung up.
“You bastard!”
“What did you just call me?”
“BASTARD… BASTARD… BASTARD! Portering and playing hooky. I heard from Dr Cray!”
She slammed the receiver down and rang her mother. In one breath, she told her the news and mentioned Shailesh’s reaction. Then she waited in hope for the rebuttal.
But Leela Bastikar just yelped with excitement.
“My dear girl, they all say that! Then the baby comes, and as if by magic, everything changes. Just give him some time.”
Mrs Bastikar’s buttery words hit the spot. Maybe this was just what he needed.
A child. Perhaps even why he was drinking!
Missing home. Missing Seema.
She would leave it for a few days before she spoke to him again.
23
The Women and Children’s Unit was a half mile walk from the main hospital. On the ground floor there was a gift shop, a canteen and signs in bold black letters next to the lifts: Feto-maternal medicine. Delivery Suite. Neonatal intensive care.
She was definitely out of her comfort zone; at med school she’d only scraped a pass in OB-GYN. Butterflies whirred round her belly.
Early pregnancy unit. The one she wanted. Gulp!
For the past week she had held herself as tight as a rock. Gone to work, shopped and made dinner. She’d ignored the sickness inside. Until the phone call from Shailesh.
He’d spoken of trying out for family medicine jobs; there were loads available. Strange, coming from a surgeon. She’d always thought of him operating. Not portering or doling out antibiotics. She’d said something to that effect and mentioned her scan.
But it came again. That ear-splitting roar.
“I TOLD YOU TO FINISH IT! I do not want another child.”
It tore her in two.
She’d begged him to change his mind. Maybe if they both took a few days off, went up to Vermont and visited family. He’d snorted.
“I’m not going anywhere near those zoo animals! My family is in Mumbai.”
Furious, she’d hung up. Zoo animals? When once upon a time, he was sat at her father’s feet, begging for forgiveness. He’d only called it dowry by accident. Slimy, self-serving bastard!
And then she realised that the sickness wasn’t all from the pregnancy. That stuff came and went. What stayed behind was sickly hatred. She hated Shailesh. Loathed him to the core. His beer belly and his snoring. The smell of red onions, Frangelico and Laphroaigh on his breath. His insistence that he didn’t want a child. That Seema was enough. All of it made her want to vomit. Bleurgh! Bleurgh! Bleurgh! AARGH!
The lady at the reception desk peered at the appointments diary through horn-rimmed glasses. ‘Monisha Bastikar’ wasn’t on it. Monisha smiled sweetly. But Dr Tyson said she’d squeeze her in, as a favour. You know… er… colleague to colleague.
Then came the big frown. Hesitation. Dr Tyson had been called away. But there was a slot available at two o’clock. Could she wait? Of course! Could she pee now? Please, please, please say she could. Yes, but she’d have to start holding again afterwards. Fine, no trouble!
Her cell phone rang. She checked the number. It wasn’t Shailesh. She answered it. A man’s voice. Instantly recognisable.
“Monisha, do you remember our lunch date? I’ve been trying to call you. I’ve left many messages.”
Oh God! She’d completely forgotten Saurav Das was in town for a meeting! They’d arranged it weeks ago.
“Uncle, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot… I’m pregnant.”
He was like family. She could see it now, the broad grin sprouting across his handsome face.
“That’s wonderful! Shailesh must be thrilled.”
Silence. Pangs of pain. Deep sigh.
“Nope! He wants me to end it.”
In a room of splotchy skinned women, swollen bellies and ankles, a dam burst of tears. They wouldn’t stop. He’d make excuses now. Promise to call her back, hang up and then not bother. All because of these stupid, stupid tears.
“Monisha calm down! Where are you? The Women’s Unit? I’m just across the way. Meet you there… in ten minutes?”
Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!
It was almost twelve o’clock. The canteen was starting to get busy. Mostly mothers and babies. Bagels, rolls and wraps lined the display window. Fillings she wasn’t allowed: prawn salad, tuna and sweetcorn. She ordered a toasted bagel and a mug of camomile tea. As she went to pay, a voice came from behind, adding a flat white and smoked salmon.
Saurav Das was here. The man who’d picked up her appendicitis at eleven. Saved her from choking at her wedding. He was here!
They found a table in the corner near the bathroom. Over lunch, she recounted her first meeting with Shailesh, the young surgeon with a widowed mother. A sister heading out to Dubai. Good exam scores. A job lined up with Professor Sawhney. Then Ayesha’s divorce. Her child. The dowry. How New York suddenly became Wichita. And Wichita became Three Oaks. Where he was drinking… and portering. Not turning up. And not wanting a child.
The last bit hurt the most.
Saurav Das took a bite from his bagel and shook his head. “He never had good exam scores
, Monisha. That’s why Sawhney wasn’t interested.”
Monisha shot him an incredulous stare.
“WHAT? He told me he had high 230s. Said it to my face!”
Saurav Das chuckled. “And you believed him, did you? Did you ask to see his score sheet?”
It was a loaded question. Her mind flashed back. The Kulkarni’s flat. Before the wedding. A large brown envelope labelled ‘Certificates and results’.
Its edges sealed.
Like a slab of meat in a cold room, she hung. Limp with shock. The thought pierced her. How could he?
“He’s a seasoned liar, Monisha. His practice wasn’t doing well either. After a year of trying, he decided to pack up and come here.”
His words rang over and over. Everything took time to process in her numb, frozen state.
“You mean it had nothing to do with me?”
Saurav Das looked at her blankly and shrugged his shoulders. He was nephrology trained. Methodical. Meticulous. He stuck to the facts. Everything else was speculation.
Monisha stared back, unconvinced. Surely Shailesh hadn’t lied about starting a life together. He couldn’t have. What about the wall tile? The hand-painted sunflower, the first piece of their first house? Oh my God!
If that was all fake, she hated him even more. Hate! Hate! Now each cell of blood she gave this baby was packed with hate.
She belched. Butter and bagel gurgled. The sickness rose fast. She sprinted to the bathroom.
Retch. Retch. Ugh!
Nothing.
She glanced up at her reflection. Her hair greasy. Circles round her eyes. Dark and deep. Her face drawn. She splashed water on it. Aargh! COLD!
Shivering, she walked back out. Saurav Das rose to help her.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head.
“I want to end it.”
He took her arm and guided her to their table.
“End what?”
“The marriage. The pregnancy. I don’t want his child.”
Instantly, his olive skin turned pale. He heaved a deep sigh and sat her down. Taking hold of each hand, he spoke of his own grief. The grief of childlessness. How Swati would have given anything to be sicking up in that bathroom. Even now. How they’d spent year after year, traipsing through corridors on cruise liners to fill the space.
Hollow, joyless years.
But for herself and Shailesh there was still hope. Now that the truth was out, they could start over. Family medicine, so what? A place together. One child. Then another. Yes, the lie was horrible! People would say all sorts! But if she forgave him and he promised not to do it again. Forgave, not forgot. Eventually, three days would become three weeks, then three years. By which time it would be well and truly buried in the past.
Could she do it? Could she grab life by the horns and pull?
She squeezed his hands. Her eyes shone with tears.
“I can.”
The words came out in a whisper. She nodded. Raised her voice.
“I can.”
Shortly afterwards, she headed for the early pregnancy unit alone.
Everything was going to be just fine.
24
The tiny Northend flat was now packed to the brim. Mrs Bastikar had bought over a truckload of things. Massage oil, hair oil, peppermint oil, maternity clothes and boxes of vitamins. Anything that would make life easier for her pregnant daughter and cushion the aftershock from that terrible, terrible lie.
Thankfully, when the baby came all would be forgotten. According to Leela Bastikar, a new baby could instantly wipe away the past and whiz them towards a new future.
Despite her mother’s reassurances, for Monisha, it seemed like every wall was caving in. The department of medicine wasn’t exactly thrilled by her pregnancy news. Her colleagues winced and groaned when they found out their holidays clashed with her due date. And just that morning, when she’d asked for help, one resident had rolled his eyes at her.
“So rude! He saw me being sick,” said Monisha, after describing the episode to her mother. “Like I’ve never bailed him out before!”
Mrs Bastikar filled the toaster and turned on the switch. She shrugged her shoulders.
“He is just worried that your work will fall on him. That isn’t fair either.”
Eventually, she handed Monisha a piece of unbuttered toast and wiped the worktop before lowering herself awkwardly onto the cheap wooden chair.
“Oof! I don’t think it’s fair on anyone – pregnant ladies working. Not themselves, not the baby.” Leela Bastikar vigorously rubbed her back where it ached from sleeping on the fold-out bed. “And not on their mothers either.”
They both burst into laughter. The half-hour lunch break was soon over. Twenty minutes for eating and ten for walking. No doubt some resident would be timekeeping.
The phone rang. It was Shailesh. His voice, distant. Unfamiliar.
There was an interview in Salem. He wanted to stay the night.
Avoid a hotel bill, more like it.
“My mother’s here,” she told him.
“When is she leaving?”
His nastiness pricked her flesh.
“Can’t you be nice? What have they done to you?”
Leela Bastikar, who’d been straining to listen, began waving her arms wildly.
“Just leave it, Monisha!”
She looked up at her mother. Guilt ridden.
“Fine, I’ll book a hotel,” said Shailesh.
It was confusing. What to say now? She asked him if he’d drop by.
Silence. Stone cold.
“I’ll ask around then. Maybe someone else has a room free.”
Instantly, her belly hurt. Shailesh was causing proper pain now. It came in waves. Her parents finally knew about the lie, but Saurav Das hadn’t breathed a word to anyone else. She had to ask, would they tell the others?
Leela Bastikar froze. Her mind flashed back to the Belvedere. Gold and silver butterflies. “My son-in-law Dr Shailesh Kulkarni. MBBS Karnataka. MS Mumbai.” Her voice hoarse from repetition.
“Perhaps it’s best not to make any big announcements.”
The rest of the day was peaceful. Monisha worked solidly and got home by eight o’clock. After dinner, they watched reruns of Oprah. When they finished, Leela Bastikar made up the fold-out bed. Within minutes, each was in bed.
An hour later Monisha woke. Pain throttling her. Ripping right through.
“AARGH! AARGH! AARGH!”
She reached for the light switch, but tumbled off the bed and onto her mother.
“MONISHA! Oh God!”
Warm blood trickling down her legs.
“Nine one one.”
Head spinning. Fading fast.
“Mom dial nine one one.”
25
The room was white, ghostly white. Walls. Ceilings. Window panes.
In front of her was a woman: Hair tied back in a band. Her face blurry white. Lifting up a chart. Looking at it long and hard.
She knew her from somewhere. Where?
From the scanning room. Dr Tyson! Showing her the baby at nine weeks. Finding its heartbeat. Cracking jokes!
But this Dr Tyson was different. She was speaking slowly, enunciating each word.
“You’re fine… Lost a bit of blood… You’ve had mor-phine… but some-thing was ser-i-ously wrong… so so-rry… but the fetus wasn’t vi-able.”
Schmoozy woozy morphine.
A slow spaced out nod.
“Oh.”
Funny how she called it a fetus now.
Shailesh was in the doorway. His fat, red face peering out from behind an enormous bunch of flowers: carnations, roses, peonies perhaps.
Smiling.
“I got the job.”
She c
losed her eyes and let his fat, lying face disappear into a purple-pink peony haze.
When she woke, he was still there.
Like waves, crashing forth.
Hate. Sorrow. Hate. Sorrow.
A nurse walked in and yanked down the blinds. Sunlight gushed through. She scribbled on the bed chart and left.
For God’s sake give me something. Morphine. Midazolam. Anything! Make me a street junkie. Nothing matters now…
“I hope you’re happy, Shailesh.”
Her mother cut in. Swanker was bringing the car around. They could all drive home together. If they left now, they’d be in Vermont that evening. The hospital had given her special leave.
Monisha shook her head, vehemently.
“Bereavement leave. Are you kidding me?”
She knew what that meant. Have a few days out to cry. Then return to this hell hole. The sniggering in the coffee room, the payback on calls. No way!
Shailesh walked over to her bed with slow hesitant steps. Then he placed himself on it as gently as he could. It was the closest they’d been for months.
“I’m going to come with you all and stay. I’ve handed in the keys to Three Oaks.”
Monisha winced as the bed sank down.
“How convenient. A week ago, we were zoo animals.”
Leela Bastikar groaned and cupped her ears with her hands.
“MONISHA. PLEASE!”
Her mother was screaming now. But what did she expect? An eight-hour jaunt through New England and it’d all be fine when they got to Burlington? Monisha shuffled further down the bed and tried pulling the covers over her head. With Shailesh there, she couldn’t move. He was blocking her. Blocking her!
Tears burst out. Hot. Stinging.
“Mom. I’ve lost everything!”
Shailesh stood up and Mrs Bastikar sat down in his place instead.
“Right now, it feels like that,” she whispered, as she lifted Monisha’s hand.
Shailesh leant over towards them both. His eyes filled with tears.
“I am so sorry for everything I’ve put you through. Everything!”
Maple and Spice Page 10