“I’ll just be missing work on Thursday and Friday,” Rasika said. “I’m flying back on Sunday.”
“Why so short?” Amma then demanded. “If you are going all the way to California, why not stay longer? You must plan in advance, raja.”
Appa was the one who smoothed things over. “Let her go,” he said. “She has worked hard. It is her own money. Let her have some fun.”
Her father’s words made Rasika feel guilty. If he knew what she was really going to do, he wouldn’t have been so calm about it. Still, she pushed ahead with her plan, arranging her plane ticket so she was leaving on the same day but somewhat later than Jill. She even allowed her parents to drive her to the Cleveland airport, where they met Jill near the ticket counter. Her parents then left, and once she was sure they were out of sight, she rolled her luggage over to a different ticket counter.
As she waited in the check-in line, she told herself that this trip was entirely justified. She just wanted to have a little fun before getting married. She didn’t intend to sleep with Abhay, and to prove it she had booked herself into a hotel suggested by him. She had been very good since agreeing to go to India. She had even switched to a different gym to avoid Benito. She felt extremely virtuous. She deserved a little vacation.
Waiting in the gate area after clearing security, she realized this was the first time she had traveled anywhere alone. She clutched her purse on her lap and observed the other waiting passengers. A young couple dressed in shabby jeans was sitting across from her, sharing a messy plastic tray of French fries and ketchup. A mother nursed her toddler in a sling, while another little girl sat beside her, sucking her thumb. The mother had three large plastic bags stuffed with clothes and toys around her feet. How would she navigate herself, the two kids, and the bags onto the plane?
There were a few people who seemed to be traveling alone: a man in a business suit was tapping away on his laptop, and a fat woman wearing a shirt that read BABY DOLL in sparkly letters was holding a cell phone to her ear.
Rasika didn’t have a virtual companion like a computer, and she didn’t feel like talking to anyone on her phone. She walked casually over to one of the shops and bought a House Beautiful magazine. She might as well think about how to decorate her future home. Yet she didn’t really want to read about “Five Big Paint Color Trends” or “Thanksgiving Table Setting Ideas.” She kept checking her ticket for the time of her flight, and peering at the board above the check-in counter to make sure she had the right gate.
Once she boarded, Rasika grew increasingly relaxed the farther she got from Ohio. At first she kept busy looking through the airplane catalog of expensive items that the well-heeled passenger might want: a robotic vacuum cleaner, a restaurant-quality frozen margarita maker. She considered whether she might want to order a pair of golf-ball-finding glasses for her father. The catalog slid off her lap and under the seat in front of her. She didn’t want any of it. She just wanted to rest. She pushed her seat back and closed her eyes and slept.
Abhay met her at the airport that evening. He almost couldn’t believe she was really here, that she was close enough to touch. He was always surprised when he saw Rasika anew. She was never the static beauty he pictured. He had remembered her as fragile and glassy. Today she looked sweet and pliable, like a child who’d just woken up from a nap. Her hair was a bit tangled, and the side of her face was imprinted with the woven pattern of the seat where she must have pressed her cheek. He held out his hands to her, and she placed her tapered fingers in his.
“Your hands are so cold!” He wanted to pull her close to him right away but didn’t think she’d appreciate that in public.
“It was freezing on that plane.” Rasika pulled her hands away. “You look tired. Washed-out. Maybe you’ve been working too hard.”
He ignored this remark. After they collected her suitcase she asked, “Should we take a cab? I assume you don’t have a car.”
“We’ll take the train.” He pulled her suitcase behind him out the baggage claim doors.
On the MAX platform, a train was waiting. “This is so convenient!” She sank into one of the molded plastic seats and closed her eyes. Her long black lashes lay in delicate fans on her cheeks. Abhay smiled at her beauty. He was elated that she’d agreed to come see him. She had told him over the phone that she was going to India in December to get married, and she insisted that she was just coming out to visit him as a friend. Yet she must love him, just as he loved her. How could he make her see this? He put a hand over the cold fingers on her lap.
When the train pulled out, Rasika opened her eyes and looked out the large picture windows with interest. She curled her fingers around his. “How can they do this?” she asked. “How can the train be on the road?”
“It can go wherever they put down tracks.” He was again surprised and moved by her almost childlike curiosity and naïveté.
The next thing she observed was, “Portland is just like Ohio, except the trees haven’t lost their leaves yet.”
He was irritated at this statement, although he realized she was right in a way. They were passing the usual warehouses, parking garages, office buildings, and billboards. The scenery from every freeway in America probably looked just like this one.
“It’ll get better,” he reassured her.
As they approached the Steel Bridge across the Willamette River, she clutched Abhay’s arm. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“I hope we’re not going over that big black thing.”
“You don’t like bridges?”
“It looks like a huge roller coaster.”
He laughed. “It’s a drawbridge. It opens up to let boats through. That’s why it has those tall sections.”
Once in the city, Rasika said, “This is a really big city. I didn’t realize the buildings would be so tall.” She ducked her head and peered up through the window.
“It isn’t that big, actually. It’s nothing like New York City or Boston. You’ll see, when we get out.”
“I’ve never been to New York City or Boston.”
“Really? Your parents never took you there?” Abhay’s parents made it a point to take him and Seema to all the important tourist destinations in the United States. His father believed in the educational value of travel.
“My father doesn’t like driving in a big city. It makes him nervous. He won’t even drive into downtown Cleveland. The airport is as far as he’ll go.”
“Where did you go on vacation, then?”
“Mostly to India. Almost every summer my parents took us to Bangalore. Other times we’d drive down to North Carolina to visit my mom’s sister.”
“I guess your dad doesn’t drive in India? That would make him even more nervous.”
“My uncles drive. One of my uncles usually has a driver, from his job. Or we take a taxi or autorickshaw.”
When they arrived in front of Rasika’s hotel, she looked dismayed. “Is it safe to stay here?”
“This is a neat hotel. It’s a hundred-year-old converted apartment building.”
“There’s a parking garage across the street. And what’s that building? The one with the sign.”
Abhay shrugged at the windowless wall of a building with a huge painted sign advertising Oriental rugs. “You said you wanted something inexpensive,” he reminded her.
“I didn’t want to be extravagant with money, but this place is so old and shabby!”
“I didn’t want you to stay way out in the suburbs,” Abhay said, “since I don’t have a car. This is a nice place. The bookstore where I work is just around the corner, and it’s on the streetcar line.”
He dragged her suitcase in, and they got her settled in her room, which was clean and basic; nothing opulent like the hotel she’d taken him to in Cleveland.
“You can see Powell’s from here,” he said, standing at the window. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Rasika collapsed on the bed in a fetal position and closed her
eyes.
“You’re not tired, are you?” Abhay asked. “I’m taking you to a really nice restaurant for dinner. You’ll like it. Don’t sleep now.”
She sat up. “I need to call my parents.”
He looked out the window while she talked to her mother in Tamil, in that same high-pitched voice he remembered from the last time they were in a hotel room together.
“Everything OK?” he asked when she turned off her phone and threw it back into her purse.
“They think I’m in Los Angeles with my friend Jill. I had to make up some stuff about how nice the weather is.”
“What’re you going to do when your parents find out the truth about you?”
“They’ll never find out.” She stood up and pulled her fingers through her mussed hair. “After I get married, everything’ll be fine.”
“You’re really going to go through with this marriage? To the guy in India?”
“Of course.”
“But you’re here now. With me.”
“I just wanted a break from all the stress at home.” She picked up her purse and walked into the bathroom. When she came out, her hair was smooth and her face newly painted. “OK. Let’s go.”
They ate at a stylish Vietnamese place, decorated in black and white, with huge cylindrical glass vases of bamboo and orchids strewn about. They ordered mango daiquiris. Rasika giggled as she wrapped one of the tiny fried spring rolls in a lettuce leaf, along with a sprig of mint and some pickled daikon. “I’ve never had Vietnamese food before.”
“Do your parents mind that you eat meat and drink alcohol?” Abhay asked.
“They don’t know.” Rasika dipped her roll into the bowl of soy-vinegar.
“So they’d mind?”
“I think so. My dad more than my mom.”
Abhay’s parents didn’t exactly approve of his meat eating and alcohol drinking, but those were minor issues compared to his total lack of a lucrative profession. “You have to hide a lot from your parents. Doesn’t that bother you?” He bit into the hot, crunchy spring roll.
“I don’t want to make them unhappy.”
“They’re happy with someone who doesn’t exist. You are not the person they think you are.”
She held her hand up to her full mouth and rolled her eyes at him.
Then he thought of something. “Hey. I never asked how you’re doing after Kanchan—you know—what you told me at Ledges.” Abhay couldn’t even get the words out.
“I don’t have any post-traumatic stress, if that’s what you’re asking. Mostly I’m angry that he ruined the Renaissance Hotel for me. I can never go there again.”
Abhay nodded. “I’m really sorry.”
“I’m fine. I really am. I’m just going on with my life.”
He wasn’t sure if this was true. Her face, when she insisted she was fine, had become pinched and sad. Yet she obviously didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he let it pass.
When they got back to her hotel room, Rasika stopped with a halt just inside the door. “I’ve never slept in a hotel all by myself.”
“I can stay.”
“No. I’ll be OK.” She threw her purse on the bed, pulled the curtains closed, and opened her suitcase. He sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between his legs, assuming she just needed a few moments to invite him to stay. She lifted her pajamas from the suitcase and said, “You need to leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She planted her feet firmly on the carpet and pointed at the door.
As soon as he stepped out, she closed the door, and he heard the metallic swish of the chain-latch slide into place. Then he heard a thump, and the door rattled in its frame—as though she’d dropped to the floor and slammed her back against the door.
The next morning, Abhay walked in the misty air to Rasika’s hotel.She met him in the lobby, near the reception desk. She was sitting on the edge of a chair, dressed neatly in jeans, a pink sweater, and a gray jacket. She wore no makeup as far as he could tell, and her hair was in a ponytail. Even though her clothing was casual, it was so crisp and new that she looked dressed up.
“Very cute,” he said, looking at her pink sneakers. “I thought we could go somewhere and talk.”
“Why?” She stood up, and in her flat shoes she was only a few inches taller than he.
“I want to know more about what you’re thinking, why you’re here. Have you had breakfast? We can go to a coffee place if you want.”
She hung her purse, a gray pouch kind of thing, over a shoulder. “I told you, I just came out here to have some fun.” She spoke softly and stepped away from the reception desk.
He stayed put and declared, “Most people don’t run off to see other men right before they’re about to get married.”
“Come on.” She headed toward the outside door. “Let’s not make a scene. I’ve already had breakfast. Let’s just go see something.”
At the streetcar stop in front of the building, Abhay tried again. “You’re really serious about marrying this guy?”
Rasika slipped sunglasses over her eyes. “I haven’t met him in person, yet. We’ve talked over the phone. I think I’ll like him.” She turned away from him so her shoulder and purse were between herself and him.
“Yeah. You’re so excited about marrying him that you flew all the way across the country to see scruffy old me.”
She ran her black lenses over him from head to toe. He wore a pair of faded jeans and an old green fleece jacket. “You don’t have to be scruffy if you don’t want to.”
“That’s not the issue. Why are you here?”
A middle-aged, square-shaped woman holding a large tan shopping bag stopped right in front of them to look at the streetcar schedule.
“You invited me,” Rasika hissed. “Why did you invite me?”
“I invited you because I love you.”
“Oh, please.” She turned her back to him again.
The streetcar pulled up with a faint squeak of its wheels against the track, and he decided to give up figuring her out for the time being. “Let’s go to the library,” he suggested as they hung on to the streetcar straps and swayed down the street. “I want you to meet someone.” Justin Time spent hours at the public library, finding and photocopying new materials to bring to Abhay.
On the sidewalk in front of the library, they gazed at the grand building. “I love the fact that this building, which is free and open to the public, is more imposing than the Portland Art Museum,” he told her.
She followed his gaze to the beautiful tall arched windows, the broad steps from the street to three arched doorways, the bronze lamps on either side of the stairs. They climbed the steps and entered the lobby, with rows of pink marble pillars and a black grand stairway ahead of them.
“It looks like a ballroom, or something.” She pulled off her glasses and tucked them into her purse.
“Yeah and it’s for all of us. Take a look at these stairs.” He led her to the black staircase, heavily embossed with garden imagery. “You can see shapes hidden in the design. Here’s a bird. There’s a crocodile, I think.”
“It’s like finding the hidden pictures in one of those children’s magazines.” They clambered around the staircase. She was giggling with pleasure, putting her hands down to feel the shapes.
On the second and third floors, she admired the rose-patterned carpet. There were more pillars, beautiful light fixtures, heavy wooden doorways leading to rooms with rows of bookshelves, and tables of people reading or using computers. “I don’t think I’ve been in a library since I was in college,” she said.
“Where do you get your books?” Abhay asked.
“I buy magazines. Sometimes I borrow a book from Jill or a friend at work, but I can’t even remember the last book I read.”
Justin Time generally occupied a far table on the third floor. As Abhay led the way, he could see Justin’s bald head bent over a pile of papers.
“Justin,” he whispered, and the man startled.
At that moment, Abhay saw Justin as Rasika was likely seeing him: a humorless middle-aged man in rumpled clothes. He felt embarrassed to be introducing this glowing woman to this lifeless man. But Justin was waiting expectantly, so Abhay finished the introductions. Rasika held out a clean, elegant hand, and Justin grasped it in his ink-stained one. Abhay said a few sentences to Rasika about the important goals of the organization. Justin seemed impatient to get back to his research, so they left him and walked out of the library.
Outside, they sat on a stone bench. “That guy gave me the creeps,” Rasika said.
“He’s a little eccentric.”
“He’s like a zombie or something. There’s nothing there. What is it you guys are trying to do?”
Abhay explained HOPE again to Rasika. Her eyes grew larger, and she burst into laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Do you know that the world’s population will top nine billion by 2050? That’s about eight billion more people than can live a comfortable, enjoyable life on this planet. And do you realize that each person born in America will produce millions of pounds of trash, and lead to the consumption of thousands of barrels of oil?”
“Do you really think you can get everyone on the planet to stop having children?” She shook her finger at him, and he realized she was imitating his gesture to her. In fact, his hand was still up in the air, ready to make his next point.
He put his hand down. “That’s a goal.” He tried to make his voice less strident. “You have to have a goal, so you know what you’re aiming for.”
“It’s not a goal. It’s a delusion.”
She looked so funny, with her eyes wide open and her eyebrows raised, that he had to laugh. “He is kind of a strange guy, I admit. And the organization is unusual. I’m just doing this for a while, until I figure out what I really want to do.”
And Laughter Fell From the Sky Page 19