Blood Feud

by Brenda Donelan

  The air was crisp, and very few people were out, so it allowed Raj and Marlee to continue their conversation outside. Finally noticing that Raj was shivering, Marlee suggested they end their discussion. Raj walked her back to her apartment, and she invited him inside to talk more.

  “Oh, no, Miss. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to be inside your room at this hour,” he said with no sense of irony. Marlee chuckled on the inside thinking how in the past twenty-four hours Raj had introduced her to his family, considered marrying her, and disclosed that he was gay. But societal expectations would not allow him to be inside her room as a platonic friend having a conversation. “But thank you, Miss. I feel better now. Better than I ever have. I will come for you tomorrow for the New Year’s Eve festivities.”

  Sleeping was out of the question, at least for the immediate future. Back home, Marlee was vastly entertained by movies with far less drama than she had experienced in the past four hours. Her mind jumped from issue to issue, each one seeming major until she compared it to another one. She could deal with the university adding more duties to her work load. That was nothing new. It happened every semester at Midwestern State University. Marlee also knew she could deal with Swami and his prediction of marriage within the next few months. She’d already brushed off that idea as hooey. A bit harder to deal with was the fact that she’d been inspected, without her full knowledge, as a marriage prospect. She found the plight of women in India to be more deplorable the more she learned about it. What Marlee struggled with most was her new friend Raj’s difficulties of being a gay man in modern India. In this day and age, he could be treated as a leper and thrown in jail just because he was sexually attracted to men. Her heart broke for this man and his future in India.

  On her way back from buying flowers to take to dinner that evening, Marlee had looked in various shops for wine or beer to bring back to her apartment. Finding none, she stopped into the Empire Hotel, and after providing the concierge with a handsome tip, she left the establishment with a bottle of red wine and a bottle opener. She poured a small amount of the red elixir into the ceramic tea cup that she drank chai from that morning. Knowing that she could not keep going over the same issues without anyone to speak with, she called her friend Diane back in Elmwood. It was only noon there, and since she taught at MSU, she was on semester break.

  By the second glass of wine, Marlee was lying on the bed howling in laughter as she repeated her experiences thus far in India. “Diane, I can’t believe it. I almost tipped over when the fortune teller said I would be getting married in a few months. But that was nothing compared to being rejected by Raj’s family who said I would not be allowed to marry their son. Allowed! Like I wanted to get married to him!”

  “That was pretty damned presumptuous on his part,” Diane said with a snort. “Can you imagine going on a first date and finding out that you’re being herded past the family for marriage consideration?”

  “Well, yes, I can imagine it. It just happened to me tonight! And people here seem to believe that all women should be married. At least that’s what Raj’s family thinks. Maybe there will be more open-minded people at the university. I hope so, because this is going to be a long five months if I have to spend all my time explaining that I don’t want to get hitched.” Marlee grabbed the wine bottle and poured another tea cup full to the brim.

  “Do you think all the single men will be taking you home for inspection like Raj did?”

  “Oh, God, I hope not! I’m sure all of the married men will have brothers or sons or cousins that need wives. If I have to go through this again, I’m going to vomit!” Marlee shrieked, meaning every word of it regardless of the amount of wine she had consumed.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Diane said. “You’ve been told that your work duties are much greater than you originally thought.”

  “Yes,” Marlee said as she chugged more of the red wine.

  “And a fortune teller said you would be getting married in a few months.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you were told by Raj’s family that you were not a suitable match for him because your astrology did not mesh with his,” Diane continued, enjoying the drama playing out in her friend’s life.

  “True,” said Marlee as she poured the last of the wine into her tea cup.

  “Then, your one friend and almost-future-husband tells you that he’s gay.”

  “Yep, that all happened. Just today, in fact.”

  Diane let out a long sigh. “Is that everything? Did I miss anything?”

  “Just one important fact. I ate goat,” Marlee whined, her stomach twisting and turning as she remembered the dish served at Raj’s home.

  “You ate a goat?” Diane shrieked, clearly imbibing alcohol even though it was only noon in Elmwood.

  “I ate stewed goat with tomatoes. I thought it was beef,” Marlee said, nearly in tears. That was the last she recalled of the conversation before she went to the bathroom and vomited all over the wall behind the toilet.

  A person who misses a chance and the monkey who misses its branch cannot be saved.

  Indian proverb

  Chapter 7

  When Marlee awoke the next day, she felt as if one of the wild elephants she heard about on the local news had found its way into her room and collapsed on her head. As the memories came back one by one, she became cognizant that she was suffering from a big-ass hangover, probably worsened by jet lag. Through squinted eyes, she observed one bottle of water remaining on the table; enough to quench one taste bud. Her throat was parched, and she could still taste vomit.

  Marlee gingerly made her way to the table, stepping over shoes and clothes she’d discarded in the night. She opened the bottle of water and chugged it in three gulps, knowing she would need several more bottles to rehydrate her. On top of the necessity for water, Marlee also needed caffeine and some greasy food. Nothing cured a hangover quite like a fizzy Diet Pepsi and a big plate of nachos.

  Throwing on the clothes and shoes she wore the night before and running her hands through her matted curls, Marlee grabbed her purse and walked out the front door. The small shop where she’d bought the flowers the day prior seemed to have moved several blocks further than she remembered. Once she located the store, she purchased as much water as she thought she could reliably carry back to her apartment, plus two large bottles of Coke, a sack of curry-flavored potato chips, and something akin to sugar-covered donut holes. This would be enough to get her jump-started. Then she could go out and get a real meal. At the bottom of the bag of provisions was an impulse buy – a wind chime decorated with colorful butterflies.

  By the time she trudged back to campus, Marlee was dripping with sweat; most likely a combined effect of the humidity, a hangover, and her lack of physical stamina. She’d been drinking water the whole time she walked back, and that seemed to be immediately converted to sweat. At the edge of campus, she sat on the stone wall where she and Raj had talked the night prior. Using her teeth, she ripped the cellophane potato chip bag open, dumping a third of the deep-fried crisps to the ground. Within minutes, she inhaled the chips and licked the remaining salt and spices from the bag before tearing into the container of sweets. She briefly considered eating the chips that had fallen on the ground, but there were too many people around who might see and pass judgment.

  After the food and the Cokes were gone, and she was on her second bottle of water, Marlee’s brain began to kick into gear. It was a low gear, but better than the idle she’d been at since awaking. Poor Raj, I can’t even begin to understand what he’s going through right now. For a few moments, she reflected on Raj’s confirmation that he was gay and the social, familial, cultural, and legal ramifications he could face if his orientation were to become public.

  Back at the room, she decided to take a shower to further clear her brain. Raj would be stopping by, and she wanted to be ready when he arrived. Walking into the bathroom for the first time since she vomited, Marlee
instantly recalled the amount of wine she drank and the after effects. Chunks of tomato and what she assumed were partially digested pieces of goat had slid down the wall and rested on the floor. She used one of the towels to clean up the mess, holding her nose and trying not to barf again.

  Raj called her room, suggesting they meet for brunch and then he would give her a tour of the campus. Marlee agreed and met him at the restaurant in the Empire Hotel, the same place she purchased wine the day before. The concierge perked up when he saw her enter the front door and, anticipating another large tip for securing her a bottle of wine, started walking toward her until Raj rose from his seat and escorted her into the restaurant.

  “We shall not discuss anything from last night while we are in public,” Raj whispered as they were led to their table. “Everybody in Delhi knows everyone else.”

  Marlee looked at him in disbelief. “In a city of nineteen million people, you’re telling me that everyone knows each other. I find that hard to believe.” She helped herself to water from the oversized plastic bottle on the table and filled his glass too. After several beverages, she was still thirsty.

  “Maybe not specifically, but if someone overheard something here at the restaurant, they could track me to university and then find out my family name. I take many meals here. You do not understand the degree to which people can find out information in Delhi,” Raj said, still whispering and looking about as he talked.

  With a nod of assurance that their conversation would not be continued in a public place, Marlee could think of nothing other than the savory, steaming buffet of food within yards of their table. Since it was a hotel that catered to many Americans and Europeans, the dishes were labeled with not only the name of the dish, but the level of spiciness. Marlee loved spicy food but knew that some Indian food was spiced to a level that would leave her mouth burning for the next week. Thus, she followed Raj as he narrated his thoughts on each and every dish on the buffet.

  After a filling meal of various chicken, rice, and vegetable dishes, along with several pieces of naan, Marlee was finally feeling like her old self. What she needed now was a big nap. Raj had other plans and led her around the large campus, calling out the function of each building. In the coming days, Marlee would need to know the layout of the campus, but her residual hangover and her overstuffed belly prevented her from paying full attention. When they reached her apartment, Raj could tell she was finished for the next few hours.

  “I will pick you up at 9:00 p.m.,” he said with a smile. “You will see the New Year’s Eve festivities with your own eyes.” Although she begged him to tell her more, Raj refused, saying it would all be a nice surprise for her and that she should rest for now.

  The afternoon and early evening were spent napping with a couple protein bars around 2:00 p.m. At 9:00 o’clock on the dot, Raj knocked at her door. He was again dressed up and wearing a turban. Remembering how she had embarrassed him the night before by commenting on his dapper attire, Marlee stayed silent. He, on the other hand, seemed to have come out of his shell. “You look very nice tonight, Miss. If you do not mind me saying so, that is.” Apparently, their heart-to-heart talk the night before broke down many of the previous barriers that existed between them. Marlee liked the new level of comfort she had with Raj, and it appeared he did as well.

  With a smile and a quick twirl, Marlee showed off her cornflower-blue sweater and navy dress pants. She wore her hair up, at least as up as possible with shoulder-length curly hair. Tendrils of hair were already falling around her ears and at the base of her neck. She’d thrown a few bobby pins in her pocket in case her tresses got too out of hand during the evening’s festivities. When it came to shoes, she’d decided on a pair of black suede walking shoes. Not knowing what was in store for the evening, Marlee at least wanted her feet to be comfortable, especially if they would be doing a good deal of standing. She was fully aware that this was a concern mainly held by old ladies, but she really didn’t give a fig. Remembering her twenties, she knew she would have squeezed her seven-and-a-half wide feet into a seven narrow if she thought the shoes were cute. Thankfully, her forties were a decade which embraced comfort and practicality. If that made her old and stodgy, then so be it.

  Four hours later, Marlee was glad she’d worn comfortable shoes, given the miles they walked. They were unable to secure a table in a restaurant since they had been booked in advance for weeks. Instead, they strolled through the busy streets, sampling street food from a number of vendors. The streets of New Delhi were packed, mainly with young people out for a fun night of celebration. Without success, they tried to get into two nightclubs, but reservations were needed, so they continued on. Marlee had the time of her life, people-watching and comparing this New Year’s Eve scene to ones she experienced back home.

  Raj, however, seemed disappointed, as if the lack of a planned event reflected poorly on his hosting duties. “I cannot think of anything else for us to do other than go to India Gate for the fireworks display.” Although it was built as a war memorial, India Gate was the site of many celebrations.

  The bus ride to India Gate was long and overcrowded, but it was well worth it. Marlee smiled continuously as she watched colorful 3-D images projected onto the war memorial which resembled Paris’ Arc de Triomphe. Following the projection show, a series of purples, greens, and yellows burst into the night sky, resulting in oohs and aahs from the onlookers as they rang in 2012.

  As the night wore to an end, a smiling Marlee turned to Raj. “Thank you for showing me New Year’s Eve in your country. I’ll never forget this night!” Most of her previous New Year’s Eve celebrations involved drunken frivolity with her friends or a night spent at home with her cat. Tonight was now at the top of her list for ringing in the New Year and all the hopes and dreams it promised.

  Raj returned her smile, and they made their way toward campus. Settling in on the stone wall, where they’d talked before, he said, “This is one of the best nights of my life. I was able to share an evening of fun with someone who knows the real me. That has never happened to me before… ever.”

  Words did not come easily that night. She didn’t want to make false promises of how “everything will be okay” or pepper him with platitudes of “being true to yourself.” The risk of losing one’s family, cultural standing, career, and freedoms were too enormous for her to belittle them with trite comments. Marlee smiled and nodded, confident that Raj knew she was on his side. Too many people were out walking around the area where they sat for them to be comfortable having a deep discussion of the possible fallout from Raj’s disclosure of being gay.

  “No matter what, you’ll always be my friend,” Marlee said, grabbing Raj’s hand in a gesture of friendship. “I don’t know what to do or say to make things better for you, but you know you can always talk to me.”

  Without missing a beat, Raj asked, “Would you help me move to the United States?”

  Knowing the negative circumstances he faced in India, Marlee nodded her assent. “Of course, Raj. I would be happy to help you find a job and a home in the United States. I don’t know all the steps to getting a work permit or citizenship, but I can help you find out what you need to do.”

  “I already did the research. The best way for me to get citizenship is by being married to an American citizen.” Raj looked her directly in the eye without blinking. So much for the bashful Indian man she met just two days earlier.

  “Raj, I want to help you, but I’m not going to marry you. If we got caught, we could both go to prison. It’s a federal offense to help someone illegally enter or remain in the United States, but I can help you get a work visa and find a job.”

  “I thought you were my friend and wanted to help me against persecution by my family and the legal system. You Americans talk about doing the right thing, but I have yet to witness any action. Forgive me, Miss, but you want to be seen as a nice person but do not want to actually do anything to help. That is why so many people in the world disl
ike the United States.” Raj had worked himself into a furor and was gesturing wildly as he spoke.

  “That’s not fair, Raj. I do care about you and many of the social issues, not just here in India, but all over the world. I want to help, but I’m not going to sacrifice my own freedom to smuggle you into the United States or marry you to help you gain citizenship. And I don’t think it’s fair of you to ask me to do these things,” Marlee said, not sure if she was more irritated with his request or guilty due to her unwillingness to break the law for her new friend.

  “You pretend to be my friend, but you are not!” Raj snapped as he stormed off into the night.

  You may look up for inspiration or look down in desperation, but do not look sideways for information.

  Indian proverb

  Chapter 8

  Marlee didn’t hear from Raj on New Year’s Day. She figured he was thinking up another way to scam her. After his volatile reaction when Marlee said she wouldn’t marry him as an attempt for him to secure United States citizenship, she began to think Raj had been playing her all along. He pegged her as someone who was plagued with guilt over having so much compared to others in the world. It was true; Marlee had always wanted to help others, and that instinct had kicked in full blast once she arrived in India. Still, she wasn’t about to get both Raj and herself thrown in prison for a sham marriage.

  It was becoming more apparent that Raj had tried to fool her in a number of different ways. Maybe Raj isn’t even gay. He might’ve said it to get sympathy, knowing I would try to help him. He probably thought I’d feel so bad about him losing his family and his job and possibly going to an Indian prison that I would do anything to help him. Even lie.