by Diksha Basu
“What? That’s like seven pages into my Google search,” Tom said. “I only went to one meeting. It was college, everyone experiments.”
“Relax,” Tina said. “You’re going to show up here and you’re going to surprise Marianne and you’re going to make sure you don’t lose her because she loves you and you love her and you’re perfectly suited for each other. Do you hear me?”
“Did you see the Spectator piece about the debate championship that I won?” Tom asked.
“Tom!” Tina said. “Do you hear me? You’re coming to India.”
“Tina, I miss her. I woke up with my glasses still on my face. She usually removes them for me,” Tom said.
“Stop it. If you want someone to take your glasses off for you when you fall asleep, train a cat,” Tina said. “This is about you and Marianne. Tom, get here.”
“You can train a cat to take your glasses off?” Tom asked. He reached for his phone to google this. She was probably right. Cats were very intelligent creatures.
FRIDAY, DUSK
Colebrookes: One of the Gardeners Is Repotting a Bougainvillea and Looks Up and Sees the Pink Sky and Takes a Moment to Gasp with Gratitude
THE OFF-WHITE LANDLINE PHONE RANG in Tina and Marianne’s cottage and the unfamiliar, low sound surprised Tina at first. She couldn’t find the offending object but then discovered it on the ground, under Marianne’s bed. Marianne must have moved it down there in order to have space for her candles on the small table between their beds.
“Yes?” Tina answered the phone.
“Madam, so sorry to trouble you but there is a young man at the gate who is saying he is here to visit you,” the voice on the other end said.
“Right, Sid,” Tina said. “Just send him here.”
“Madam, it would be most helpful if you could come and receive your—guest, your visitor—for club rules,” the voice continued.
“But everyone walks in—what’s the problem?” Tina pressed.
“He’ll be waiting at the gate. Thank you, madam. Have a lovely evening,” the voice on the other end hung up the phone.
Tina stepped out of the cottage and walked out toward the gate. A man in a Colebrookes uniform was watering the pots of flowers that lined the lanes. Tina smiled at him but he didn’t smile back. Tina stepped into the space between two flowerpots to allow a silver Mercedes with dark-tinted windows to drive past her. She turned her head away as the dust from the wheels coated her face. Near the entrance two male tennis instructors in all white were chatting, their large bags hanging off their backs. Tina apologized as she walked past them, even though they didn’t bother to move even an inch to let her pass. Tina always muttered an apology when she walked past someone and mostly she saw the “sorry” like an “excuse me.” But social media was telling her that she was conditioned to do this only because she was a woman and by doing this she was playing into the patriarchy so now Tina always felt guilty when she apologized to anyone. She got to the gate and saw Sid to the right of the exit, leaning back against the brick wall of Colebrookes with one foot up against the wall. She looked over her shoulder at the security guard who was leaning out of his booth watching her walk toward Sid. He ducked back into his booth when she made eye contact and then poked one eye out more discreetly but Tina could still see him clearly.
“I should have met you somewhere else,” Sid said. “Let’s just go for a walk or something. We can get a tea.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ll like it here. I’ve ordered tea and some pastries to my porch already; we don’t have to go anywhere. They have a strict entrance policy for anyone who isn’t a member or a guest or staff. That’s all.”
“Right,” Sid said. “An entrance policy.”
“It’s ridiculous, I know. As if they can judge by appearances. Mark Zuckerberg wears only those horrid T-shirts every day. But he’s white so I guess that’s different. The point is these policies are really silly.”
“I don’t want to be your political statement,” Sid said.
“What? No, you aren’t. That’s not what I meant,” Tina started. “If you’re not comfortable—”
“Stop, you’re making things worse,” Sid said. He pointed toward the entrance. “Let’s just go. You lead the way.”
Tina walked back in through the entrance, the security guard now openly staring at them. They continued down the walk. A car came toward them and Tina stepped aside but Sid didn’t. He was looking down at his shoes as he walked. Tina nudged him by the elbow but felt uncomfortable having any more physical contact. Sid looked up, looked at the car, and squinted in through the windshield. He still didn’t move.
“You should—” Tina didn’t finish her sentence and the driver honked loudly at Sid.
“What are pedestrians supposed to do? Climb into the bushes?”
“There aren’t many pedestrians here,” Tina said. “And yes, I basically did climb into the pots earlier when a car came.”
Sid slowly stepped aside. He turned and watched the car drive away before continuing to follow Tina down the path.
By the time they reached the patio, Tina decided it would be best to sit inside the cottage to avoid the obviously curious eyes all around the club.
“We can just sit inside,” she said. “Evening pollution levels are the highest supposedly.”
“Right, sure,” Sid said.
They went into the cottage and Tina turned the lights on and looked around at this space that was bigger than Suraj’s whole home that they had been to two days ago. Clothes were strewn all over the beds and chairs and furniture and Tina and Marianne’s jewelry glinted on the dresser. A pile of shoes of different colors and styles lay all over the floor.
“You travel heavy,” Sid said.
“It’s also a lot of Marianne’s things. I told you about her, right? We’re sharing this room.”
“I’m being grumpy today, I’m sorry,” Sid said. “I hate places like this.”
And he hated not being able to afford places like this. He hated that a whole part of the world was inaccessible for him. Not that he was dying to get into this place but earlier today he wanted so desperately to have sex with Divya, and she had finally agreed, but they couldn’t find an affordable private place and he was still angry and frustrated. But it was time to shake that off, he decided. Nobody wants to cast an actual angry young man.
“But would you watch a show about places like this?” Tina said.
“What?”
“Never mind. I should have suggested meeting you somewhere else. It’s just that everyone always seems to want to visit Colebrookes so I thought you might enjoy it.”
Sid sat down on the sofa with his legs splayed apart and leaned back with his right arm behind his head. Now Tina was grateful that the armchair was full of clothes and she sat down right next to him and tucked her legs up under her so her knees were leaning against one of his knees. He put his hand down on her knee, patted it, left it there, and said, “Don’t feel bad. I hate being here but I’m definitely going to go back to Bombay and tell everyone I know that I came here.”
Rajesh knocked on the door. Tina was about to get up to answer it but Sid got up before her and said, “Sit. I’ll answer.”
He opened the door and exchanged a few quick words with Rajesh in Hindi that Tina couldn’t understand and came back in the room holding a tray with a pot of green tea, two cups, and two small plates of assorted sandwiches and pastries.
Sid put the tray down and poured two cups of tea.
“When I tell people in Bombay, this will be champagne,” he said.
“Let’s make it really champagne. I have something I’m sort of celebrating tonight. I don’t know if they have real champagne but we’ll get some sparkling wine,” Tina said, reaching for the butler call button.
“Isn’t that what champagne is?” Sid asked.
“Well, actually, real champagne has to be from— You know, never mind. I actually started that sentence with ‘well, actually,’ so I’m going to stop there. It’s basically the same these days.” Tina said into the phone, “Two glasses of Sula sparkling, please. Make sure it’s very cold.”
Rajesh returned soon with the two glasses and, clearly curious, poked his head into the cottage even though he had nothing else to deliver.
“Anything else, madam?” he said, staring at Sid who was standing near the table holding the tray with the two glasses. He raised his eyebrows at Tina and winked. “I brought you a little pot of organic ghee that works better to moisturize the lips than any expensive balm.”
“You stop or I’ll reveal your little secret,” Tina said.
Rajesh looked back and forth from Tina to Sid and nodded and slowly edged out of the door.
“I know him,” Sid said.
“What? How?”
Sid laughed, put the tray down on the table, handed a glass to Tina, and said, “Relax, I was joking. I don’t know everyone in my income bracket.”
“Cheers,” Tina said.
They quickly worked their way through repeated top-ups while Sid asked her for details about her life in New York.
“Have you ever been to one of the live recordings of those morning shows? Do they really do that in front of full windows overlooking Times Square or is it green-screened in?”
“I walked past a line waiting to see Prince at 8 A.M. in Bryant Park for a morning show once,” Tina said. “Does that count?”
“Please don’t tell me you shop at farmers markets, though,” Sid said. “I see that on so many TV shows and I just don’t understand—all markets in India are farmer’s markets.”
Tina watched Sid walk over and pick up Marianne’s candle.
“Do you have electricity outages here?” he asked.
“No, they have generators,” Tina said. “Marianne likes the smell of those; they’re not for electricity outages.”
“Does the smell keep away mosquitos?” Sid asked.
“No,” Tina said. “Nothing. The candles do nothing. They’re just for pleasure, I guess.”
Sid smelled it and put it back down on the bedside table.
Side by side on the couch again, Sid said, “So you think you may ever end up living here? Or Bombay? Personally, I think you should come live in Bombay.”
“Do you? So I can be close?”
Tina looked over at him and smiled. This was the moment. It had to be. By this point she was leaning into the side of his chest, both of them dangling their third, and empty, champagne flutes in their hands. Tina turned around and faced Sid and reached her hands up to his face and shut her eyes, ready to kiss him. He held her face in his hands, his strong hands, and said, “Make the show, Tina. Give the world something new.”
Tina leaned forward, pushing his hands back—was he resisting? she thought for a fleeting second. No, he just had naturally strong hands—and kissed him. He kissed her back and said, “Imagine it, Tina.”
He stood up, quickly placing his glass down on the table and moving across to the other side.
“We can take over Hollywood!” he said.
“And then Bollywood,” Tina added. “It’s much easier to move culture from West to East.”
Tina leaned back on the sofa and smiled at his enthusiasm.
“I’m thinking of making a reality show about lavish Indian weddings,” Tina said. “Isn’t that a brilliant idea? People will just eat up Bubbles.”
“What?” Sid said. “Who the hell is Bubbles?”
“Bubbles Trivedi,” Tina said. “The wedding planner.”
“But what about me?” Sid said.
“What about you?” Tina could sense the mood had changed in the room. “Can you come sit down again?”
“I’m just supposed to go back to Bombay and personal training despite everything this week? Everything I put myself through?”
Tina’s glass slipped out of her hand and hit the ground but didn’t shatter and Tina wished it had so it would give her something to do, somewhere to look.
“You kissed me for…” Tina couldn’t finish the sentence. She groaned, “You thought…Oh my God, you felt you had to.”
Sid paced back and forth across the table, far out of Tina’s reach.
“You came to Delhi by train just to see me,” Tina said. She was sitting on the edge of the sofa now, looking down at the champagne glass by her feet, watching it lie still on the black-and-white rug beneath the table.
“I would go anywhere for opportunity, Tina. You know that about me. For the show. For the fame and the money and everything else you said was going to be a possibility. I would do anything for that.”
She was, very literally, sitting on a casting couch, Tina thought.
“I’m the sleazy television executive,” she said. “Who brought you to my room, got you drunk, and tried to hook up with you.”
“I’m going to go,” Sid said.
“No!” Tina said. “Wait. I’m not even attracted to you. I’ve been trying to be all week because you are just so objectively handsome that I felt I ought to be.”
“How is insulting me making this situation any better?” Sid said.
He sat down on the edge of Marianne’s bed.
“I feel like a complete idiot. You maybe didn’t give me all the right signals but we come from different worlds and this was my responsibility,” Tina said. She picked up her empty glass from the floor and placed it back on the table.
“Signals?” Sid asked.
“Well, we’ve been pretty intimate this week,” Tina said.
“I barely even know what that means. I just went along with everything you were suggesting because this felt like a weeklong audition,” Sid said.
“I made a mistake,” Tina said. “That has very little to do with you and more to do with what I wanted from India.”
“I don’t have a proper bed—I sleep on a mattress that stays rolled up during the day so we can use our one room for other things. This, this whole cottage that you’re staying in for a holiday, is bigger than my home and when you used the word ‘cottage’ I pictured something very different. I don’t know a lot about the world but I know enough to know I don’t want to be someone’s fetish. And if we were ever to be together, it would just be that—both ways! I’m perfectly aware that I wouldn’t fit in in your Bronx apartment.”
“Brooklyn,” Tina corrected.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
Sid walked out of the door. Tina stood up and rushed behind him.
“Wait!”
“Tina!” Bubbles was rushing toward Tina’s cottage. “My husband has prostate cancer.”
“What?” Tina said. Sid also stopped on the porch. “You just found out? I’m so sorry to hear this. Don’t worry about the show at all. This is dreadful news.”
“No, no. We’ve known for ages but it’ll be perfect for the show. He won’t die—it’s very slow-moving and his diabetes will probably get him first—but imagine if you have me, this lovely, bubbly wedding planner—even named Bubbles, don’t forget—who is also dealing with her tragic personal story. We’ll have all the ingredients for a hit show.”
“Bubbles Trivedi?” Sid asked. Tina nodded.
“Who is this handsome young man?” Bubbles asked. “And where’s your Australian fellow?”
“Who?” Sid asked.
“Never mind,” Tina said. “Bubbles, this is my friend Sid. He’s a personal trainer.”
“And a very attractive one at that. We should get you to get all our brides to be in shape for their weddings. Stir the pot a little. The dark-skinned poor boy seducing the wealthy brides-to-be. Look at how good I am at this. Could I get a co-producing credit?” Bubbles s
aid.
“Bubbles, please don’t use terms like ‘poor,’ ” Tina started.
“Why not?” Sid said. “That’s what I am.”
“But you’re right, though,” Tina said. “Bubbles, you’re right! Sid, Sid, listen. I can still do this. I can cast you. You can be in this new show.”
“I’m going to go,” Sid said. “I don’t want to get my hopes up again.”
Bubbles rubbed his triceps and said, “You’ll be perfect for this role. You can stand behind the brides and hold their elbows firmly against their bodies while they lift the weight for a tricep curl. And then it’ll get too hot so you’ll take off your shirt, and use the same shirt to wipe your muscular torso.”
“Bubbles! Please stop rubbing his arm,” Tina said. She turned to Sid, “I’m so sorry for all the…all the objectification you’ve been facing tonight.”
“I’m going to go, Tina,” Sid said. He wouldn’t look her in the eye.
“Sid, please just give me a night to think and check back in with my New York office. I really think I have a role for you this time.”
“Come, Sid, walk with me,” Bubbles said. She held Sid’s arm and they walked off down the Colebrookes drive. “And Tina, don’t forget the prostate cancer bit in your pitch.”
SATURDAY MORNING, 6 A.M.
Colebrookes: Mr. Das Is Awake and Watching an Exercise Video on YouTube as He Drinks His Morning Tea
“I CAN’T GO,” TINA SAID in the dark. She rolled over and pulled the sheets up to her chin and said to Marianne, “I sexually harassed someone I had power over.”
“You didn’t sexually harass him,” Marianne said. She put a bottle of Bisleri, two packets of Parle-G biscuits, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer into her Herschel backpack.
“I tried to kiss him,” Tina groaned. “And he was trying to audition.”
“Bullshit,” Marianne said. She pushed open the curtains but it was still dark outside so the room remained dark. She walked over to Tina’s bed and put her bedside lamp on. Tina covered her eyes and rolled away.