by Sonya Lalli
“There you are!”
She picked up Kanika and smelled the bouquet of wildflowers in her daughter’s precious hands, squeezing Priya with her free arm. She could see Neil watching her from the corner of her eye.
“What’s that?” Kanika asked, pointing at the mural, as they followed her inside.
“Auntie Jenny did that. She’s a good artist, huh?”
“Really, Auntie Jenny?” Kanika gasped. “But her makeup is always so funny!”
They burst out laughing, and Anu caught Neil’s eye as she set Kanika down on the floor. His gaze made her body burn from head to toe.
“It’s wonderful, Anush. It really is.”
“Thank you for coming. The flowers . . . For everything, Neil.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Neil said, patting Kanika on the head. “Kanu is very excited to see me try to touch my toes.”
Anu laughed, but her breath stopped as a pale hand appeared, a small, dainty one on the bulk of Neil’s shoulder.
“I’m not late, am I?”
Everyone turned to look, and as Neil moved to the side, Anu saw her. The familiar face, rose cheeks, and lips, Sara’s young face shining right at Neil.
“Ms. Finch!” Kanika squealed, running to her. It was like a punch straight to Anu’s gut.
“Neil, did you remember the name tags?”
“Yep, got them right here, Sara. . . .”
In a dreamlike state, she watched the majority of Kanika’s kindergarten class turn up for the one p.m. family class; many of the children had even brought their siblings. It was a surprise for Anu: Neil and Sara had worked together. They’d rallied the class in her support. Anu had always done so much for the school; wasn’t it time, they all said, they returned the favor?
Finally, Anu’s new teacher, Mari, called everyone in for the class. The practice room was crowded, but everyone managed to find a space. Why was Anu not surprised to see that Sara snagged a spot right next to Neil?
Anu had planned on taking the class with Kanika, but suddenly she couldn’t. She breathed through the jealousy and closed the practice room door behind her, overcome by the urge to be alone.
The foyer was empty now, and Monica, Tom, Jenny, and a few of the teachers were outside by the coffee stand, joking around. Anu didn’t join them. Instead, she went downstairs into the empty women’s change room and sat on the bench that ran the length of it. She’d bought it used and sanded it down and varnished it herself. Having never had to do anything practical or hands-on before, in that moment she’d been prouder of herself than she had in a while. Then, it had made her feel like she could do anything.
Now?
Now she wasn’t sure.
Ten minutes passed down there, and alone with her thoughts, she became angrier with herself. If Neil was with Sara now, she shouldn’t care that he was moving on, or what he thought about her. She, too, was trying to move forward; how could she expect him to stay there for her in the past?
There was creaking close from above, and she held her breath. It was coming from the staircase.
“Hello?” she whispered, and a beat later, there was a gentle knock on the change room door.
Anu gripped the bench. Maybe it was Sara. Clearly, she wanted to steal Anu’s family. Maybe she wanted to slit her throat, too.
“Anush, are you in there?”
She exhaled, and without standing up, she wedged the door open with her toes. Neil poked his head through, and then came the rest of his body.
“Wow, this change room is huge.” Scratching at the scruff on his chin, he leaned against the back of the closed door. “I didn’t realize you had this much space down here.”
“The men’s room is just as large,” she said flatly. “And there’s a big space at the back that’s completely empty.”
“You could fit another practice room down here.”
“I suppose so,” she said, even though she had already thought as much. Even though she and Imogen, before their fight, had drawn up fantasy plans for one.
“Are you OK? How’s your friend doing?”
“Her name is Imogen, and she’s going to be OK. Thanks.” Her voice sounded harsher than she’d intended, and she felt a tinge of remorse. Neil had never met Imogen, yet she had become so important to Anu. Anu knew it wasn’t Neil’s fault that he’d missed out on this part of her life, yet she was still angry at him for it. Albeit unreasonably so.
Anu cleared her throat. “She’ll be OK. Thanks for asking.” A pause. “She’s back home now, with her parents.”
Another pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Anu shook her head. “Don’t you want to take the family class? Why are you down here?”
Neil shoved his hands in his pockets and sat down next to her on the bench. He hadn’t turned on the light, either, so the room was dark, only a crack of light streaming in from the slit of a window that looked into the alley.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you,” he said. “Sara and I have been talking—”
Anu winced, preparing herself.
“—and the school principal is really into yoga herself, apparently. She’s going to call you this week. She wants to schedule an introductory class for every single kid at Kanu’s school. Amazing, right?”
Anu turned to face him, not quite believing him—still hanging on to the way he’d said “Sara.”
“They’re going to take it to the school board.” His eyes were shining. “Can you imagine, Anush? If it gets into the school curriculum? Every afternoon, you could have this place packed.”
“I . . .” Anu grew speechless as her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach. She was touched, yet terrified and overcome with the urge to hug him and run away at the same time. “I don’t know what to say.”
Why had Neil gone out of his way to help with the studio? Why had he taken the time, the care, to surprise her, to champion Anu’s success as her own?
“Sara said that . . .”
She wasn’t imagining it; the last few years of their marriage hadn’t been a marriage. It had been cohabitation, an existence. Neil had taken her for granted.
Had Anu also not failed to appreciate him and their life together? Could she not be unreliable, unreasonable? Didn’t her mood swing depending on the time of day, what and whether she ate—meaning anything or nothing could be the trigger? Hadn’t she wanted from him, even demanded something more from life—even before she knew what any of it meant?
What if present-day Neil had existed back then, and he had been the supportive, reliable, loving partner she’d always wanted him to be—would it have been enough for her? Or would she have nonetheless pushed it all away?
“Anush, what’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
This, as in the studio? Or this as in us?
“What are you thinking?”
I love you. Her lips were still, but in her head, her heart, it came rushing out.
She loved him, and she had always loved him.
Why had she made him leave without a second thought? Why had she thrown him away on a whim? Why had she convinced herself that staying in their marriage, working through their issues, would inevitably turn her into their mothers?
An Indian woman whose most memorable characteristic was her husband.
“I’m thinking about a lot of things right now.”
“Like?”
“Like . . .” She sighed, kicked at a loose pebble on the floor.
“Like?”
The pebble scattered to the far end of the room, knocking up against the wall before settling beneath the coat rack.
“I’m sick of this, Anush.”
Startled, she looked over and found Neil violently rubbing his face with his palms.
“You’re sitting here, sulking, acting like some jealous, wo
unded pup—”
“So there is something going on with you two.”
Neil sighed. “Ms. Finch and I—”
“Ms. Finch.” Anu laughed. “Is that what you role-play in bed?”
“Would you cut it out? She has a crush on me, but there’s nothing going on, I swear. She’s nearly a decade younger than us—what do you take me for?”
“I—”
“And either way, you have no right to be jealous. You left me, Anush. You were the first person to date someone else. And don’t think I don’t know about Jude Law or that guy from Tinder—”
“Who told you that?”
“Who do you think?”
Tom. Of course Monica would have told her husband, who would in turn tell his close friend. The information flowed the other way; why had she not thought it to be reciprocal?
“So you think I’m sleeping around?” Anu’s voice got small. “Is that what you think of me?”
He stood up and walked three paces. When he was in the middle of the room, he turned around.
Did he really think that poorly of her? That she had changed that much?
Sure, she had gone too far; she had taken risks and had to pay the price. She didn’t realize the price would be Neil’s respect.
“I didn’t . . .” She trailed off. Why did she need to explain herself to him? She didn’t, and suddenly, she was enraged. “You know what? Never mind. You should probably join Tinder yourself. Get off your pedestal, Neil, and join me down here with the rest of us.” She glared at him. “It’s a lot more fun than being married.”
He stared at her, incredulous.
“Join Tinder.” She stood up. “Go be the single guy you never got to be, Neil. Go fuck Sara and twenty-two-year-old interns named Caley and Tiffany who think you’re just so damn wonderful.”
He crossed his arms. “Maybe I will.”
“Good.”
“Good—” He hesitated, and their eyes met. “But then you can’t . . . Anush, you can’t—”
Her breath caught.
“—keep looking at me like that . . .”
A spark.
It heated up, flashed, and a beat later, he was across the room pulling her up by the waist, pushing her hard against the wall. One leg on the bench, the other around his hips, she fumbled with his jeans as he slipped her leggings down her thighs. His hands winding through her hair, he kissed her, then dragged his lips down to her collarbone.
Their eyes locked. She was in a trance, and she could feel her heart beating hard against his chest as they moved up and down, back and forth, rhythmically, eye to eye and gasping for more.
She pressed her mouth into his neck to keep from screaming as he moved her down onto the bench, and then down to the floor.
Wasn’t this the way it was supposed to be? The two of them together: Anush and Neil. Together forever.
He rolled off her, pulling her around as she shifted on top of him, and just then, a floorboard creaked.
They both froze.
“Mommy?”
Another floorboard, crackling just outside the door. Anu held her breath, and she looked into Neil’s eyes in fear.
“Daddy?”
Silently, Anu rolled toward the door and blocked it with her left leg just as she felt the pressure. There was a soft grunt as Kanika tried to push the door again, but Anu held strong. A moment later, she heard the pattering of feet as their daughter ran up the stairs.
The room spun as Anu sighed in relief. It had been such a close call. What the hell had she been thinking? Decidedly, she rolled over to face Neil. He was lying flat on the ground, his arms bent like he was about to do a sit-up.
There was a lazy grin on his face, like it was a Sunday morning right before Kanika was born. When they could sleep in late and stay in bed even later—goofing around, reading, kissing—until one of them caved and went downstairs to make the coffee. Back then they hadn’t had a care in the world, the burden of adult responsibilities made lighter by privilege, by their parents. And then Kanika arrived: the light of their lives. Their new reason for being.
Anu lived as if she had nothing to lose, when in fact she had everything to lose. How careless she was. How thoughtless her choices were.
Neil extended his left arm, reaching for her. The tips of his fingers met her waist, but she pulled away and reached for her leggings.
“Come here.” His voice was gruff, full of desire.
Leggings in hand, she sidled toward him. He wrapped an arm around her as she tried to put them on. He kissed her forehead. Again, she pulled away.
“Wait five minutes before coming up.” She stood. “I’ll go outside. You can head back into the class.”
“Why?”
She threw him a look, and he sat up straighter.
“Kanu can handle this.”
“We can’t get her hopes up.”
“Her hopes,” he said softly, “or mine?”
Anu balked. “Right. As if you want to get back together with your slutty ex-wife.”
“I don’t think that . . . at all.”
She glared at him. “Of course you do.”
“Anush,” he said. Why did it hurt so much when he called her that? “I don’t care what you’ve been doing. . . . It’s in the past, and none of us is perfect. Do you think I’ve been some sort of monk since we broke up?”
She swallowed hard, and suddenly it occured to her that she was hurting them both—all over again. But didn’t he realize how easily, again, everything could all slip away?
“Give us a chance, Anush.” He drew closer to her, setting his hands on her forearms. “You couldn’t before. I get that now. But why not now? Why—”
“And what happens when we start taking each other for granted again, huh? What happens when our daughter is old enough to see on our faces how unhappy we are together? When we split up again—”
“We won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“How are you sure we will?”
She didn’t have an answer for him. She pulled away and sat down on the bench, and she watched him as he roughly pulled up his track pants, straightened out his shirt. After, he sat down next to her. She let her head fall lightly against his shoulder.
They had both changed. They weren’t the people who had split up more than a year before, with broken hearts, fake smiles, and vague ideas about what life could be like alone.
“I don’t regret marrying you,” she said finally. “Not once. Not ever.”
He nodded. He was crying, too.
“So many times I’ve wondered . . . where would we be if we hadn’t gotten married so young. If we’d met each other as grown-ups . . .”
“Please,” he whispered. His voice was breaking. “Anush, I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Then—”
“But I love Kanika more,” she said, shifting away from him. “So do you, Neil. And we . . . and I . . . can’t do this to her again.”
chapter thirty-four
Six years earlier
Her back was on the brink of a spasm, and she stuffed another couch cushion beneath her hips, rolling slightly on top of it. Where was the remote? She found it and hit the mute button, silencing the grating voices on TV, some talk show discussing the Kardashians.
She and Neil hadn’t exactly tried, nor had they not tried, and it had left Anu sitting here feeling fat with her bloated feet up on the table. She was about to pop. Explode. Whatever you wanted to call it. And girl, boy, alien, or demon—whatever it was that was making her pee forty times a day—she wanted it out.
“Mom?” A waft of something spicy hit her just as Lakshmi’s head peered around the doorway. “Mom, are you cooking?”
“Hah. Your favorite.”
“Neil said he’d cook to
day. He’s off early—”
“Leave that boy alone, Anu. I am perfectly capable.” She dried her hands on the tea towel tucked into her trousers, perching next to the sofa. “Shall I make you some lassi?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Just half glass, nah? And take off these pajamas. I will start the washing.”
“Mom, they’re clean, and I don’t want lassi—”
“Quarter glass—it will—”
“Mom, can you stop fussing and come sit with me?”
Lakshmi tutted at her as she left the room. Anu heard her turn off the stove.
“Water? Juice? Peppermint tea?”
Anu rolled her head into a couch cushion, suffocating a groan, then pulled away. Why had she told Lakshmi that she had started her maternity leave early? Anu should have pretended she was still at work.
“Water. Thanks.”
Back in the sitting room, at first Lakshmi tried to sit next to Anu and massage her, but Anu managed to convince her that she was much too overheated for human contact. Eventually, after Lakshmi nestled into the nearby armchair, Anu started to relax. Oddly, when Lakshmi was around, Anu was unable to relax unless her mother was.
“Any day now . . .”
Anu looked up and found Lakshmi just staring at her. “Yep. Any day now.”
“Have you thought of boy names, just in case?”
“We don’t need to. I know it’s a girl.”
“How?”
Anu shrugged, unable to pinpoint how exactly she felt certain, even though she and Neil had declined to find out the baby’s gender. “I just know. Didn’t you?”
“I suppose. In our family, baby girls have been harder to carry.” Lakshmi leaned in, stroked Anu’s left ankle. “Our line of women is very strong. The more difficult the pregnancy, the stronger the girl.”
“Well, this one had better shoot out of here an Olympic medalist, then.”
