The blood pounding in my head, I ran all the way to the waiting room and found Mom sitting on one of the chairs, still as a rock. There were several other people scattered around, most of them looking somber and anxious. One little toddler sat on the floor amidst an assortment of wooden building blocks while his mother watched. Every one of these people looked like he or she was waiting for news of someone.
My heart crumpled at the sight of my perpetually cheerful mother with tearstains on her cheeks, her hair disheveled. She was staring at the opposite wall. The instant she noticed me, she shot up from the chair and gave me a hard hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“How’s Pamma?”
“They’ve put her on antibiotics and oxygen. They tell me she’s breathing a little better.”
Thank God she was still alive. “Have you seen her yet?”
Mom nodded. “Only for a minute. Dr. Shapiro says she’ll be okay.” Mom broke down into quiet tears. “I should have taken better care of her.”
“What are you talking about, Mom? You take excellent care of her.”
Mom shook her head. “But I should have insisted on taking her to Dr. Shapiro sooner.”
Now that I knew Pamma was improving, a sudden surge of strength seemed to flow into me. I held my tiny mother in my arms and whispered, “She’s going to be fine.” I knew what was eating away at Mom. She felt guilty because Pamma now lived with us and she was Mom’s responsibility.
In the old-fashioned Indian tradition, the daughter-in-law was expected to care for her in-laws, even more than her own parents. Anything less was considered dishonorable.
I led Mom to a brown vinyl couch and sat down with her. “Mom, don’t blame yourself for this. Pamma’s a stubborn old woman and refuses to see a doctor. She won’t even take conventional medicines. She’s been treating herself with Amrutanjan and sugar-coated homeopathic pills.”
My temper stirred at Pamma for putting Mom through all this agony. But in the next instant I pictured my grandma with an intravenous tube attached to her arm and an oxygen tube in her nose and the anger drained away.
I loved that obstinate old woman and I wanted her to bounce back. Along with Mom and Dad, she formed my three-pronged anchor.
Lou appeared in the door and stood for a moment, perhaps feeling a little out of place. Never having had any real family, this was probably strange for him. But on the other hand, Lynne had been a cancer patient for years, so he had to know the waiting room scene well. I motioned to him to come forward. “Thanks, Lou. I’m grateful for everything.”
“Glad to help,” he said, handing me the car keys.
Mom eyed him curiously, then turned to me. I introduced them. “Mom, this is Lou Draper, the attorney I was meeting with today. Lou, this is my mom, Vijaya Giri.”
They shook hands and I added, “Lou was very kind and drove me here.”
“What about your car, Soorya?” Mom asked.
After I explained everything, Mom seemed satisfied and sank into quiet anguish. Lou asked if he could get us something to drink. Mom shook her head. She was too shy to accept anything from a stranger, so I nodded, once again grateful for Lou’s thoughtfulness. “Diet Sprite for me and coffee with cream and one sugar for Mom. Only if it’s not too much trouble, Lou.”
Lou was striding out of the room before I could complete my sentence. To reflect privately for a moment, I rose and walked to the far window. When would I be able to see my grandmother?
At the moment, with my mother on the verge of a meltdown, I felt older than my age, felt I was responsible for her. Although tears were stinging my eyelids, I managed to keep them from spilling.
Until Dad arrived, I was in charge of both Mom and Pamma.
An ambulance, with its strobe lights flashing, came to a grinding stop at the emergency entrance. I watched as the rear doors of the vehicle flew open and a technician jumped out. Two others appeared from somewhere to help him lower a gurney from the vehicle and wheel it into the building. I couldn’t see the patient’s face—only a figure covered with a blanket.
The uniformed staff ran with the gurney through the glass doors and disappeared inside the building. All of it was accomplished in mere seconds. A sense of urgency encompassed the scene.
Was the person on the gurney dying? Pamma had been rushed here in the same fashion. While many came here to get healed, a great many also died. I said a quick prayer for Pamma. She was a great believer in the strength of prayer.
Hearing the glass doors sliding open behind me, I whirled around and saw Dad striding in. Seeing Mom rise and run straight into Dad’s powerful arms and get completely enveloped in them released the tears I’d been holding back. I was free to let my guard down.
Dad released Mom and looked down at her face. “Viju, don’t cry, dear. Amma is going to be fine. I just spoke to Shapiro a minute ago. It’s a bad case of bronchitis. It happens in elderly people.”
“Did you see her yet?” I heard Mom say.
“Oh yes. Shapiro was in and I could talk to him. Amma is coherent and comfortable.”
I noted how Mom’s shoulders sagged in relief. Her husband was here and she could relax and let him take control. It was clear in her expression and posture. With a tender arm around her shoulders, Dad led Mom back to the couch. I saw Mom nod and listen to Dad’s whispered words. She offered him a watery smile.
I couldn’t hear what he was saying to her. All I knew was that he was there for her. For me. For Pamma. It was the most profound sense of relief to have my father with us at the moment.
Pulling in a shuddering breath, I watched the two of them interact. It was so natural with them—so instinctive. I rarely saw Mom and Dad touch each other, and yet they were mutually devoted in every sense. Drying my tears with a tissue, I rolled it into a ball and tossed it in a nearby trash can.
This was what I wanted for my future—a husband who’d treat me like Dad treated Mom.
Dad hadn’t noticed me standing at the window. He looked surprised at seeing me. “I didn’t know you were here, dear.” He stood up to give me a hug.
“I just arrived a few minutes ago. I was in south Jersey on business when Mom called.”
“Good. Your mom needs you to be here.” Without any reference to my swollen eyes he patted me on the back and gave up his seat so I could sit down. “I’m glad I was on my last surgery when I got the message.”
Scooting over, I made room for him between Mom and me. “Dad, is Pamma really okay?”
“She’ll be fine. Once mucus builds up in the lungs of an older person, it’s hard to get rid of. It gets infected and turns into bronchitis, even pneumonia.” He ran a tired hand over his wide forehead. “It was mostly my fault. Her wheezing and coughing should have made me more aware of her condition.” He shrugged helplessly.
“But she’s obstinate and won’t listen to you or anyone,” I supplied in Dad’s defense, despite my questioning his perceived negligence earlier. Lou was right. Dad was a busy man and couldn’t be expected to protect everyone, especially his stubborn mother who refused help.
I could see a lot of that same mulishness in myself and to some extent in Dad, too. Genes were strange things. “Maybe she’ll learn a lesson from this?”
“Nothing like a ride in a speeding ambulance and a hospital bed to put the fear of sickness in an old woman.” Dad laid his head back against the wall and shut his eyes for a few moments.
He looked beat. The poor man had been in surgery for hours and then received Mom’s urgent message and rushed here directly, not knowing if his dear mother was dead or alive. He was still wearing surgical scrubs under his jacket. Well, at least his feet were clad in regular shoes and not paper booties.
The good thing about Dad’s line of medicine was that he rarely had to deal with emergencies—the kind that had him on call at all hours of the day and night. Most of his surgeries were elective and on a planned schedule.
While I thought about Dad rushing here from work, I realized I’d
done the same thing. It was late afternoon and I hadn’t been in touch with my office. Telling Mom I’d be right back, I headed for the exit—and ran into Lou balancing two foam cups and a can of Sprite.
“I’ll be right back. I have to call my office,” I said and stepped outside. I explained to Sandy about Pamma and that I might not be able to report to work the next day. Sandy assured me that everything would be taken care of, and I went back inside.
Standing in the waiting room’s doorway, I watched as Lou talked to my parents. Lou had forfeited his coffee to Dad. When I got near them, I heard Dad say, “That was very kind of you, Mr. Draper. I’ll make sure you get a ride to the station.”
“There’s no rush, Dr. Giri. I can wait.”
We chatted for several minutes, the coffee obviously making Mom feel better. Her tears had dried and she started to take an active interest in what Lou did for a living. “You work for the state government?” she asked, looking like she’d never heard of such a thing. “I didn’t realize lawyers worked for any department other than the law-and-justice-related areas.”
Lou smiled indulgently. “That’s a common assumption, and quite understandable.” For a man who’d never had a real mother, he showed remarkable deference toward Mom. “Every state agency has a few lawyers working in some capacity or other. But you’re right—it is mostly the justice area that hires attorneys.”
While Dad and Mom sipped their coffee, I offered to share my Sprite with Lou, who shook his head. “I’m fine.”
Just then Dr. Shapiro appeared and informed us that Pamma had been moved from critical care to a regular room. We were free to visit her. “Family only,” he emphasized, throwing a casual glance at Lou.
Mom, Dad, and I spent several minutes with Pamma. She was awake and in good spirits, considering the trauma she’d been through. She even smiled for our benefit.
Pamma needed her rest, so we headed out to the waiting room once again. Lou was sitting by the window, reading a newspaper. He put the paper aside and stood up when he saw us. “Everything okay?”
I nodded. He waited until my parents were seated and motioned to two empty chairs across the waiting room for the two of us to speak privately.
“I feel awful about bringing you all the way here,” I said to Lou, “especially now that my grandmother’s much better. All that fuss was unnecessary.”
“Don’t worry, Soorya.” He patted my hand. “Just sit back and take it easy.”
Taking his advice, I sank deeper into the chair and let my taut muscles relax. I sat in silence for a while, ignoring the people around us, the murmured conversations. It was the calm that came after dealing with an emergency. Exhaustion was catching up with me. A hot shower and bed sounded wonderful. I closed my eyes for one blissful minute.
Lou’s next words forced me to open my eyes. “Looks like you guys have a visitor,” he said, inclining his head.
Expecting one of Mom’s friends, I turned my head in that direction. Every nerve in my body went on full alert, making me sit up. Roger!
Lou gave me a curious look. “Family?”
“No,” I replied, my voice sounding hoarse.
Chapter 20
My heart rate shot up at the sight of Roger. So much for sitting back and taking it easy.
He wore his usual jeans, paired with a navy parka. Peeling off his gloves, he shoved them into his pocket and smoothed back his windblown hair with both hands.
After that temple visit, when he’d been all sweet and cute, offered me a flower, put his arm around me, and talked about sentimental things like marriage and love, he hadn’t been in touch—not once. In fact, I’d been wondering if I had imagined that episode entirely, the walk to the coffee shop, the topics we’d discussed, the way we’d sat real close at the subway station.
He’d been teasing me.
After weeks of remaining invisible, here he was again, showing up at the worst possible moment. Every time I thought I’d successfully purged him from my system, he managed to sail in again and upset my balance.
I drew a deep breath. Lord help me.
Roger stood beside my parents and I noticed how my mother’s mouth puckered into a shocked O when she laid eyes on him. She put a hand over her mouth and said something that appeared curiously like an apology.
Then Roger patted her hand, like he was forgiving her for whatever it was she’d done. What I wanted to know was why Mom was apologizing, and what was her blunder that Roger had so magnanimously forgiven?
Dad gave Roger an enthusiastic handshake and slapped his back in that buddy-buddy gesture reserved for close friends. I didn’t realize Dad even remembered him.
In general, after a suitor had come to our house and left, and then rejected me, Dad usually forgot the name, what the man looked like, or what he did for a living. Mom, on the other hand, remembered every little detail—the boy’s height and weight, his vocation, his preferences, phone number, e-mail address, and God knows what other information she considered significant.
Mom belonged to the club that believed in passing along the details of such young men to other Telugu families with marriageable girls. Nothing was ever wasted or cast aside in our community, especially not a precious eligible boy in the marriage market. If he wasn’t the right guy for Soorya he’d suit some other girl perfectly, just like trying on clothes at the store. If they didn’t fit, one put them back on the rack. They could be perfect for someone else.
Lou must have sensed my prickly vibes. He smiled. “You don’t care much for him?”
I shrugged. “He’s all right. He . . . he’s a friend of the family.” What was Roger doing here? Who had notified him of Pamma’s illness? Well, there was one way to find out. “Excuse me for a moment, Lou.” I strode over to where Roger and my parents were discussing Pamma’s condition and cut in, “What brings you here, Roger?”
He turned to me with that amazing smile and my traitorous heart leaped like a dolphin on steroids, then settled with a solid thump. “Soorya, nice to see you again.”
His nonchalance was enviable. Roger had this habit of making me glad and angry, elated and irritated, pleased and exasperated, all at the same time. What was it about him that set my teeth and nerves on edge? “You didn’t answer my question,” I reminded him.
“Rajesh was supposed to have dinner with us this evening,” Mom supplied before Roger could reply.
“What was the occasion?” I asked Mom in a bland voice. “I guess you were waiting to tell me after I got home from work?”
“No particular occasion, baby. When Pamma became ill, I forgot everything else.” She sent Roger an apologetic look. “Poor Rajesh went to our house and was informed by Juan that we were at the hospital.”
“What was the pool guy doing at our house in this weather?” And how convenient for Roger.
“Winterizing our pool.” Mom threw me a “duh” look.
“Oh, of course.” How could I have forgotten that our swimming pool needed winterizing at this time of year? In any case, why had Mom invited him to dinner and never mentioned it to me? Was she up to her matchmaking tricks again? If so, she was barking up the wrong tree. Roger wanted to be my friend, not my lover.
“Good thing your pool guy was there, or I’d never have known about Pamma and wouldn’t have got a lift to the hospital,” Roger added. Then he turned to my dad. “Uncle, I’m so relieved to hear that your mother is okay. I was worried when Juan told me that an ambulance had been summoned.”
The Guatemalan man who maintained our pool wasn’t exactly a friendly individual and spoke very little English, but Roger had managed to talk him into giving him a ride. Was there no end to Roger’s charm and resourcefulness? I glanced at him. “How did you talk Juan into giving you a lift?”
“I didn’t talk him into anything. Juan is a very nice man. He was just finishing up, so when I told him I’d taken a cab from the train station and had no way of getting to the hospital, he offered me a lift in his truck. We had a long and interest
ing talk on the way here.”
“Juan speaks mostly Spanish.” Despite my irritation I felt reluctant admiration for Roger’s ability to get a private man like Juan to open up. “How did you manage that long talk?”
“I speak pretty decent Spanish.”
“Impressive.”
Roger shrugged. “Four years of Spanish in high school and one semester in Barcelona.” He smiled. “Juan is an inspiring man.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Juan is inspiring because?”
“Did you know he has four kids and the two oldest ones are in America’s top universities?”
Mom nodded enthusiastically. “Carlos is at MIT and Maria is at Brown. The younger two are doing just as well in high school. Juan is so proud of his kids.”
I should have known that despite her zero knowledge of Spanish, Mom would manage to break through Juan’s reserve and get him to tell her his life story. No wonder he’d stuck with us for over a decade.
Talk of achievements reminded me that Lou was sitting there, entirely alienated from this cozy family scene. He was a talented and tenacious man, too. I turned around and gestured to him to join us. I noticed the reluctance with which he approached. “Lou, come meet Roger Vadepalli, a friend of the family. Roger, this is Louis Draper. He’s an attorney with the Department of Environmental Protection.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Draper.” Roger offered his hand to Lou. “And my name is Rajesh, by the way. Soorya insists on calling me Roger. As a joke, of course.”
“Please call me Lou.” Lou sounded grave, almost curt.
The underlying tension between the two men was palpable despite the handshake.
I remembered the first time Lou and I had met, when he’d told me “Mr. Draper” made him feel like an old man. Roger, with his long hair and lean, boyish physique, had to make him feel old. I had a feeling Lou’s instincts told him there was more to my reaction to Roger’s appearance than plain surprise.
The Full Moon Bride Page 19
