by Anne Cherian
He’d give it a few weeks and then encourage Jacques to follow up on his interest in Caroline.
It was that thought that followed him outside, not the tears and sadness of a time now passed. He had left her drinking the tea she’d wanted to make for him. This time she understood that he couldn’t stay, that he would never again ring her doorbell.
He checked the clock in the car. He’d been here for almost two hours. Leila wasn’t expecting him back quite yet. Perhaps he should have some of the tea Leila had made. She really was quite amazing. Instead of getting angry or asking him to change his plans, she had simply made him tea. For his cold.
He glanced around for the red thermos. Then he remembered she’d come running to the door and taken it from his hands, saying the milk was spoiled.
Too bad, he thought, as he started the car. The tea would have been nice.
THIRTY-NINE
NEEL OPENED THE FRONT DOOR THINKING he’d have another hot shower to wash off the morning and then ask Leila to make him masala tea without milk.
“Leila, I’m back,” he called out, and waited to hear her voice, footsteps, any indication that she was home. Guilty that he had spent the morning with Caroline, he wanted to get this first-encounter-after-the-lies over with.
“Leila?” he tried again, raising his voice and walking toward the kitchen, only to find it empty. Figuring she might be taking a late shower, he headed to the bathroom, but knew from the open door that she wasn’t there, either.
He returned to the kitchen wondering what to make of her absence.
The newspaper was on the table and the dishes piled in the sink. The smell of frying dosa was still there, as was a small amount of leftover batter.
Then he noticed the aloe plant. It had tipped over and the green plastic container had split open, oozing soil onto the tile.
Everything was the same as when they were having breakfast—except for the plant. Had the wind blown it down? He scooped up the mud and placed the plant on a saucer. What had happened? Why hadn’t Leila cleaned it up?
Where was she? When he hadn’t reached her from India, he thought she had left him. But she had been in the condo the whole time.
Had she left him now? But why would she do that? She had no idea he was meeting Caroline and she had known for a week that he was prepared to become a father.
That was it, he thought with relief. Her pregnancy. She was probably feeling those strange urges and had gone out to buy something.
He sat on the squeaky new leather chair, trying to read the paper, listening for footsteps and the turn of a key. The printed words remained on the page, his mind still on Leila. If he hadn’t lied to her, if she hadn’t been so understanding about his going flying while sick, he wouldn’t be feeling this jumpy and guilty. Thank God it was the last of Caroline.
Half an hour later, the same section of the paper on his lap, he suddenly thought that she might have left him a note. He’d said he’d be back around now, and it wasn’t like her to take off without telling him. As he walked toward the fridge to check the board, he noticed the blinking red light on the answering machine. Hoping it was a memo from Leila, he pressed “play.” He hadn’t known about the memo feature, but she had read the instructions and shown him how it worked.
“Hi Neel. It’s Jake. I spoke with your wife earlier about the trip to Reno. Turns out I got the dates mixed up. It’s the following weekend. Leave me a message if you two can come. I’ll pick it up from the Big Apple. See ya.”
The happy, carefree American words sickened Neel. Of all the days in the year, Jake had to call this morning. He’d spoken to Leila and she had known there was to be no flying. Why hadn’t she told him anything?
Had Jake phoned while he was in the shower? Neel tried to remember if there had been a change when he came downstairs. But he was so anxious to leave, so worried that Caroline would call, that he hadn’t paid any attention to Leila. He had given her the thermos, waiting—interminably, it seemed to him, for the tea. All that while she hadn’t said a word, just concentrated on making the brew. No, he suddenly remembered, she’d asked if Jake would like some tea. She had been testing him and he had continued the lie. Was that why she practically snatched the thermos from his hands? Just when he was at the front door, ready to step outside. Had she given him that much time to confess?
She had claimed the milk was sour. Neel wasn’t so sure about that now. He checked the date on the carton; good for another four days. She had lied to him. So many lies between them, he thought, pressing his fingers to his temples where the fierce thud-thud of his headache was in full force. Since he wasn’t giving Jake a lesson, Leila must have guessed he was with Caroline.
Where was she?
Neel paced the floor, trying to figure out what to do. Trying to figure out what Leila might have done. The problem was, he didn’t know her well, had made so little attempt to get to know her.
She had that friend from Berkeley, he remembered. A journalist. What was her name? He strained his memory but nothing came to him. She’d kept that new friend to herself, and now Neel would never be able to get ahold of her if she’d gone there.
Maybe she had gone to see Shanti. They’d spent a lot of time together in Reno and it made sense that she would seek out a fellow Indian. He called up and wondered how he could ask about Leila without giving anything away.
Shanti, Bob reminded him, was in New Zealand. “She’s left me for three whole weeks,” Bob complained. “I can’t wait to have her back.”
Oona was the only other person Neel could think of. Sanjay had told him their two women were getting close, having tea, “and no doubt telling each other how impossible husbands can be.” Sanjay had laughed. Neel responded with a smile, sure that Leila would never discuss such things with Oona. But perhaps she did.
He picked up the phone, then replaced it. He couldn’t call up and ask, “Is Leila there?” If she wasn’t, he would be forced to tell Mr. Goody Two Shoes Sanjay all that had been going on. He didn’t want Sanjay and Oona to lose respect for him, especially now, after he had finally cut off the past.
Neel suddenly remembered Leila telling him about Oona’s miscarriage. He would call up, offer his condolences, and ask about Leila at the same time.
“Well, at least I know I can get pregnant,” Oona rallied valiantly. “So we’ll just keep on trying.”
“Of course, of course.” Neel was uncomfortable. “Is Sanjay there?”
Sanjay came on the line. “I tell you, Neel, it’s very different when it’s personal. We had to rush to the Emergency Room. I was with her the whole time but it wasn’t my body having the D&C. I used to joke that I’m just the sperm donor. But I was right. We men aren’t as brave as our women.”
“Leila will agree with you. She says that the Adam and Eve story has been interpreted wrongly all these centuries. According to her, God created Adam, then decided He could do better, and so created Eve.”
“Good one,” Sanjay acknowledged with a laugh. “Leila told us the good news about you two. How is she doing? You taking good care of her?”
“Trying to,” Neel answered. So Leila definitely wasn’t there. Where was she? Had she really left him?
“Trying is not the same as doing. Arre, do I sound like your parents?”
“Yes, but also like a good friend who’s been bugging me from day one to behave. Hey, Sanjay, hang on a second. I’m getting another call.”
When he switched back to Sanjay, he said very quickly, “That was the hospital. Leila’s there. I’ve got to go.” He hung up even as he could hear Sanjay offer, “Can we help?”
Neel was halfway to the hospital when he realized he hadn’t asked what had happened. All he heard was “hospital” and he panicked. Not sure in what condition he would find her, Neel made his way to the room the nurse at reception had given him.
Leila was lying on the bed, awake—and whole. She hadn’t slit her wrists. Then, even as he relaxed, he realized he was in the maternity sect
ion. And Patrick was in attendance.
Had she tried to do something to the baby? His headache drummed inside his temples, but he could think clearly in spite of the pain.
“What happened?” Neel asked the other doctor. He couldn’t bring himself to speak with Leila just yet.
“Why don’t you tell Neel while I get us prepped,” Patrick suggested easily.
Now he had to talk to her, look at the blue and white hospital gown from under which her legs splayed out into the stirrups.
Leila was taken aback by his appearance in the room. When the nurse suggested she call Dr. Sarath, Leila had resisted, giving in only because the woman seemed surprised. He might be gone the whole day, Leila said, then kept quiet when the kind nurse insisted a message on the answering machine would let the doctor know immediately upon his return home. Leila wasn’t sure if he ever planned to return home. Still, she told the nurse to go ahead and call, and was relieved when they moved her to a private room before the woman could tell her if she had reached Neel.
Apparently, Neel had been reached and now here he was. Leila looked down at the white sheet. Her legs were apart, exposed. Should she expose Neel the same way?
“After you left to go flying,” Leila said deliberately, “I felt a small pain, but I thought it was nothing. Then, when I was doing the dishes, it hurt so much I couldn’t stand and I grabbed the counter. I was worried about the baby, so I came straight to the hospital.”
The counter-clutching had happened an hour after he left. He had barely stepped outside the door when she hurriedly emptied the thermos, appalled at what she had almost done. Sanjay had said almonds could kill Neel. Then, as she watched the brown beads vanish into the drain, she wished they were going down Neel’s throat. He should have stayed home, had another dosa, a cup of tea; but he was rushing back to Caroline. She could not fathom his decision. She had sensed a change in him this weekend, felt a closeness, a tie that went beyond the baby. Was he faking it?
She wanted to call up Caroline and tell her off, make up for that other time she had been unable to do anything but listen. But Neel was the one to blame. She should have said something before he left, when she had the chance. Instead, she’d wanted to kill him, then let him—the man she had forgiven enough to think of as a husband again, the father of her baby—walk away from her.
She remembered the baby with a rush of guilt. Could the baby feel her anger and panic? Would all these awful feelings cause a miscarriage? She had to protect the baby. It was hers. No one could take this tiny growing being away from her. Desperate for some calm, she had taken a long shower, forcing herself not to think of Neel up in the plane with Caroline. She tried to go about her day in the usual normal way, and so progressed to doing the dishes. That was when the first pain exploded.
Neel heard her say, “After you left to go flying,” and felt a deluge of shame overwhelm him. “I shouldn’t have gone this morning. I’m sorry. I’m here now. It won’t happen again.”
“Leila got a lot of sympathy, checking in by herself,” Patrick said. “And once they knew she was your wife, they rolled out the red carpet for her. Called me from one of my patients. Only the best for Mrs. Sarath.”
A nurse knocked on the door and Patrick excused himself, saying, “Probably that other patient. I’ll be right back.”
Leila still hadn’t looked at Neel.
Neel knew he had to take the first step.
“You have every right to be angry,” he said, and meant it. “I was taking care of some unfinished business. It’s over now. It’s just us.”
She remembered Jake’s invitation, his expectation that they were a happy couple who would want another trip to Reno. “If Jake hadn’t phoned…” Leila let the sentence alone.
It dangled in the room, and Neel saw its completion as his chance at getting a new start.
“If Jake hadn’t phoned, you would not have known where I went this morning. But the outcome would have been the same.”
“What was the outcome?”
“I took care of that unfinished business,” Neel repeated.
She wasn’t going to let him off easy. “You already said that. What does it mean, though?”
Neel took a deep breath and said, “Those phone hang-ups this weekend were Caroline. She was trying to reach me because she thought I would marry her when Tattappa died. I never said that, but she refused to believe me. So I met her today to tell her once and for all not to bother me—us—again.”
“Why should I believe you this time?”
“Because I am with you now.”
“But you were with me before.” In Reno, in their condo, he had spent every night with her, but still found time to be apart.
All relationships were like seesaws; Neel knew that. It was simply that with Leila he was used to being on the upper end. How could he bring them both to the same level? He had just started with “Leila,” when Patrick, after a quick knock, entered the room.
“Okay, I’m back,” he announced. “Leila clue you in as to why she came here this morning?”
“Yes.” Neel answered.
“Everything checks out fine. The intern gave her a once-over, and I also examined her. But I want to do a sonogram, just to be on the safe side.”
He sat down, touched some buttons, and then said, “I’m going to put this on your abdomen, Leila. It may be cold, and I’ll need to move it around some. Try not to move too much, okay?”
Neel had been glad to turn his attention to Patrick, but now he looked down at Leila. She was crying.
“Leila,” he moved quickly toward her. “Are you in pain?”
She shook her head.
“What’s the matter?” His guilt rose afresh and now he would do anything to calm her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you this morning. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Yeah, Leila, give your husband a break,” Patrick interjected from behind wires. “We men are human, after all. And if you ever have to check in alone again, he’ll have to answer to both of us.”
“See?” Neel said. “It’s going to be all right. I won’t even go flying unless you can come up with me.”
But Leila couldn’t stop crying, and Neel, nonplussed by her unexpected behavior, plunged on. “I’ll give up the plane. No more flying, all right?”
“I’m scared.” Leila finally got the words out. She felt—insecure—in this room, unprepared for its gadgets and pretty wall pictures, and a doctor operating a machine she’d never seen before.
“You don’t need to be scared anymore. I’m here for you.”
“It’s the baby.” Leila sniffed and wiped her face with a tissue. “Oona said one in five women have miscarriages.” She didn’t tell Neel that death always came in threes. Tattappa, Janni, and Oona’s baby. What if babies counted as half? What if her jealousy caused her to lose the baby?
“But Patrick said you were fine. He’s the best OB/GYN there is. Shh, don’t cry.” Neel held her hand.
“If I’m fine, why is he doing this, this sonogram?” It was the hard, cold machine with the wires that truly bothered her.
“Because you are my wife. You’re getting special treatment. If you were Mrs. Anyone-off-the-Street, you’d be home by now.”
“Neel’s right. We reserve the best for our own. Which is why,” Patrick paused as he looked at the screen, “I can tell you right now that your baby will have perfect Apgars. No doctor’s baby is allowed home without those nice tens.”
Leila had stopped crying and now looked puzzled.
“I’ll explain later,” Neel promised. “It’s just a routine test done when the baby is born.”
“Hey, you lovebirds, want to see what I see?” Patrick turned the monitor so it faced Neel and Leila.
A gray and white volcano came into view, the lines undulating, grainy. Patrick was peering at it, saying, “Good, good, everything looks fine. And see this? That’s your baby.”
“That dot?” Leila’s voice was doubtful. She hadn’t
known what to expect, but it wasn’t a dot.
Neel had seen the fetus immediately. The tiny pulsing cells grew bigger as he watched, then changed into a ball, and slam-dunking that ball was a hand, strong and lean and brown. Somehow Neel knew he was looking at the first picture of his son. “That dot is our baby’s heartbeat,” Neel said, his words a little choked. “It’s a strong one.”
“That’s good, right?” Leila asked, relief making her cry again. But now she was crying from happiness. If the baby was fine, if the baby was not going to die on her, she could believe that the rest of her life would be fine as well. This was the way she had always lived her life. An old saree meant a husband, a green light meant he was home waiting for her, and a small beating dot meant being happy with that husband. And he was with her now, looking at their future together.
Neel wiped away the tears that seeped from the corner of her almond eyes and down her cheeks. “Yes, Leila, a strong heartbeat is good.”
“So the baby is okay?”
“Yes, Leila, our baby is okay.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THIS BOOK HAS BENEFITED from the eyes and intelligence of many individuals. Sunita Chander above all, for speaking the truth; Barbara Bundy, Julie Connery, Krysten Cogswell Elbers, Yanina Rovinski, Oona Aven, Anju Basu, Marie Stael von Holstein, Anne Stein, Suhl Chin, Soo Chin, Alex Gansa, Philippa Levine, Shadi Bartsch, Carol Muske-Dukes, Bonnie Yates, Margaret B. Yates, Sue Hausmann, Anu Chander, Russell Leong, Mary O’Sullivan, Kitty Felde, and Jason E. Carmichael for their gentle suggestions and who, by taking the time to read various drafts, gave me the courage to keep writing; Ranjan Dey for allowing me to use his restaurant, New Delhi, in the novel; Prakash Abraham and Gursharan Kaur for providing important information and Bharat Sarath, Arvind Krishnaswamy, and Savitha Varadan for double-checking those facts; Nori Kurashige and Jan Ozaki for catching typos; Vonetta Taylor for finding me the right fonts; and Arlene Tademaru for driving me places.