Madhu looked bashful. Athar was slightly overweight. He was fine except for that protruding belly, which had, in all honesty, always been there, even ten years ago when Farah had married him.
“Arrey yaar, Madhu, you go to India, you come back and no call, no hello. What’s up, man?” Brijesh cried out from behind them.
“Just been busy with work,” Madhu said, shaking Brijesh’s hand.
“Kya, work-shurk,” Brijesh said. His voice was slightly slurred; as Simran had said, Brijesh did love his beer. It was five in the evening and the man was already a six-pack down, from what Priya could tell. Simran had managed to change a lot about Brijesh, but she couldn’t quite get the frat boy out of him. He still drank like a fish, went out with the boys, and wasn’t all that involved in his children’s lives.
“Raising the children is Simran’s business. Bringing home the bread is mine,” Brijesh was fond of saying. Priya found that insulting, but Simran didn’t seem to mind. Who knew, if Madhu had been a partner in a software company that went IPO in the nineties and avoided the Internet bust, maybe Priya would be too busy admiring her Chanel tennis bracelet to mind.
Priya knew that Madhu sometimes felt like the failure among his friends. They had taken advantage of the booming nineties, made money and built businesses or cashed in stock options, while Madhu steadily advanced at Oracle. He had a stable job, a decent career, but he wasn’t about to become a millionaire. Even Karthik, who had a regular job like Madhu, had cashed in well when the start-up company he was working for was bought by Microsoft. Now he and his wife, Latha, had the money to buy a beautiful house in Los Gatos and invest in real estate back in India.
Madhu cared about these things. She didn’t. Success was measured in dollars for him. It was an Indian thing, Priya had realized. She would always ask Madhu if he was happy and challenged in his job—the rest, she believed, would follow.
“I’m still waiting for the big payday,” Madhu liked to say. “But I don’t think it’s coming. You don’t become rich working your way up in a multinational. You become rich by starting a company and taking it IPO.”
Priya wasn’t part of that Silicon Valley crowd. She had a different academic and professional background. Even Latha, Karthik’s mostly dim wife, could talk fairly intelligently about the Internet boom, the Internet doom, and the stock market.
“I got him to get our money out, and it was the right time,” she said. “You should’ve seen him then, screaming at me, but now he appreciates what I did. If we’d left the money there longer, we’d have lost fifty percent of it. Right, Karthik?”
“Right,” Karthik said. “My wife is a financial genius.”
“So when’s the baby due, Farah?” Aditi asked.
Aditi and Tarun had one son, Dhruv, a five-year-old, and they had decided not to have any more. Dhruv had had many medical problems, and now he was finally getting better and not falling as sick. It had meant that Aditi, who used to be a consultant with Ernst & Young, had had to give up her career—and Priya felt she was bitter about it.
“April,” Farah said. “And I can’t wait. And this is it, bhai. No more children. Three is more than enough.”
“Come on, memsaab, how can I have a cricket team if you stop at three?” Athar joked.
“You’ll have to have the rest with your other wives,” Farah quipped.
The conversation was cut short when seven children came into the dining room adjoining them, and the cake cutting and song singing began.
“Promise me we won’t have parties like this when our kid turns five,” Priya whispered into Madhu’s ear.
“Promise,” Madhu said, his eyes widening when JoJo shoved her little sister away as she clamored to have a piece of cake.
“It’s my birthday,” JoJo cried.
“Bebe just wants a slice of cake, beta,” Simran said patiently.
“She should stay away from my cake. It’s my birthday,” JoJo yelled defiantly.
“And promise me that our children will be nicer than theirs,” Madhu said, and Priya nodded, her eyes wide, as well, as JoJo pushed Bebe away again. Her parents didn’t reprimand her but just carried her screaming younger sister away.
Everyone got cake in the end, even Bebe. They had samosas and pakoras, mutton biriyani, and plenty of candy for the kids to devour.
Except, of course, for Dhruv, Aditi’s son.
“Arrey, Aditi, a little chocolate won’t hurt him,” Simran said.
“No,” Aditi said, taking a mini Mars bar away from her son’s hand. “You know, Dhruv—no candy.”
Aditi then looked at Simran, her eyes angry. “Simran, he’s only allowed candy on Fridays, and one piece at that. In this day and age, we can’t take chances with our children eating all this processed sugar and . . . well, there is the weight issue.”
She looked pointedly at JoJo then, who, for her age, was probably carrying more baby fat than she needed to.
“I can’t stand her,” Aditi said to Priya when Simran walked away, angry at the backhanded comment Aditi had made about her daughter being fat.
Priya only nodded. She wasn’t about to say anything about anyone to anyone in this crowd. They might bitch and moan about one another, but they were best friends in the end. She, on the other hand, was an outsider.
“I’m so sick of these stupid parties,” Aditi said. “I’m so sick of staying at home. You’re lucky, Priya, no children, no nothing. You can actually have a social life, a career, and sex with your husband without worrying about who comes into the bedroom.”
“Well . . . ,” Priya began, and then shut up. She would trade all of that for a baby, she wanted to say, but she realized that Aditi wasn’t talking about Priya; she was venting.
“My first job at Ernst and Young, in two years I was a manager, pulling six figures,” she said. “Now, I spend my time worrying about when Dhruv will fall sick and when I need to clean up vomit. His life”—she nodded toward her husband—“on the other hand, hasn’t changed. Tarun has a career, the six-figure salary, and a social life. He could even be having sex with someone on the side, and then life would really be perfect for him, wouldn’t it?”
Priya put an arm around Aditi and led her onto the patio out back, away from the kids eating inside.
“What happened?” Priya asked. It was obvious that this level of outburst was new.
“I started to apply for jobs,” she said with a rueful smile. “I thought it would be easy. But damn it, it isn’t. They wanted to hire me as a program manager at Sun for fifty thousand a year. Fifty? I made more when I came out of business school. Now I’m worth fifty.”
“Maybe you need to work your way up again,” Priya said.
“I’m nearly forty, Priya; there isn’t any work your way up. It’s fucking over,” she said, and then put her hand on Priya’s. “Don’t give up your job. No matter what. Keep your career. You give it up, you’ll be fucked, like me.”
“Did you take the job at Sun?”
Aditi shook her head. “You know Tarun got promoted? Vice president of business development. His travel days have gone up; he’s gone now three days out of the week plus more weekends. I can’t have a full-time job with his schedule. I mean, someone has to pick up and drop off Dhruv at preschool. Goddamn it,” she said, choking up. “Even at fifty grand, I was ready to take that job. Why does he get to have a career and I don’t?”
“Get a nanny,” Priya said. “If he’s making so much money, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Aditi shook her head again. “Tarun doesn’t think that’s good for Dhruv.”
“Tell him to stay at home, then,” Priya said.
Aditi laughed. “I can’t. He makes so much more than I ever did or could. We have the life we have because of him. I drive a Lexus, Priya. I should be happy.”
“Is that what Tarun said?”
Aditi nodded and picked up a napkin from the patio table, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
“None of them gets it,” Aditi sai
d, pointing her chin to the house. “They think I hit the jackpot. Tarun has a great job, and I have the luxury of sitting at home, turning into a fucking vegetable.”
“What are you girls talking about?” Tarun said as he walked in, a glass of scotch in his hand. “About your virile men?”
Madhu followed Tarun and came to stand beside Priya. He immediately put his arm around her.
“You know, you guys have been together as long as any of us have, and you’re so lovey-dovey still,” Tarun said. “The man can’t keep his hands off of you, Priya. Kya magic hai?”
“Maybe because they still love each other,” Aditi said.
“I still love you, jaaneman, my life,” Tarun said, and dramatically pulled Aditi into his arms. She flinched and pushed him away.
“You smell of whiskey,” she said.
“Well, that’s what happens when you drink single malt, baby,” Tarun said.
“I guess I’m driving, then,” Aditi muttered. “I’ll get Dhruv; it’s time to go home.”
“Yes, madam,” Tarun said, and saluted. “She’s a tyrant,” he said to Madhu and Priya. “We should hook up for dinner sometime.”
“Sure,” Priya said.
“Wow,” Madhu said as the unhappy couple left the patio. “Do you think we’ll ever end up like them?”
“No,” Priya said. God, I hope not.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Time to go home?” Madhu said.
“Sure,” Priya said.
But they stayed for another drink while Simran’s housekeeper, a Mexican woman named Maria, cleaned up.
They sat on the patio, the light breeze soothing. This was the best thing about living in California, Priya thought: even in February they could sit outside in nothing but a light jacket. Priya cuddled against Madhu, feeling secure in her marriage. Nothing made you feel lucky in your relationship like seeing someone else’s crappy one.
“So, Priya, now that we have some quiet, tell us about this surrogate,” Farah said, and Priya stiffened, feeling the squeeze of Madhu’s restraining arm.
“Surrogate?” Simran asked. “What is this, bhai? No one tells us anything.”
“When Athar told me, I couldn’t believe it, but considering all your problems, this is a great solution, nahi?” Farah said. “So, this woman is in India? How much does it cost?”
Priya didn’t look at Madhu because she wasn’t sure she could stay calm if she saw his face.
Athar looked just as embarrassed as Madhu. “Farah, I’m sure this isn’t something they want to talk about.”
Farah waved a hand. “Arrey, having a baby is good news. So tell us, Priya, how does the process work?”
Priya took a deep breath. “Like Athar said, we don’t want to talk about this. It’s still early days.”
“So there’s a risk of losing the baby?” Latha asked.
“No,” Madhu said immediately. “We just don’t feel comfortable talking about it.”
“That’s the way to have a baby, though,” Farah said, stroking her big belly. “I mean, you don’t have to get fat or go through labor and delivery. Athar, we can have a cricket team if we can have the rest of the babies that way.”
Priya wanted to scream. How dare Farah make light of this? Priya could hardly sleep. She was so scared about her baby growing up thousands of miles away in a stranger’s belly. And this woman was making a joke about it?
Silence fell over the small crowd of people, and relief came in the form of Latha’s daughter Noma, who stepped onto the patio wailing. “JoJo hit me,” she said, rubbing her shoulder. Noma was seven and slight and couldn’t quite compete with the full-bodied JoJo.
Nikhil, their five-year-old son, followed, eating a bar of unidentified chocolate. “My belly hurts, Mama,” he said, and sat down on Latha’s lap.
“We should go,” Priya said then, and stood up.
They were in their car when Athar came running out. Madhu rolled down his side of the window, but Athar spoke to Priya.
“I’m so sorry, Priya. I know you wanted to keep this a secret . . .”
“It’s OK, Athar,” Priya said without looking at him, and turned the key in the ignition.
“Yaar, I’m really sorry,” Athar said to Madhu, who just nodded. “Call me, OK?”
Madhu waved to Athar and rolled up the window.
They drove home in silence. Priya was the designated driver, but whatever buzz Madhu had acquired had quickly disappeared.
“I’m so sorry,” Madhu said as soon as they were inside their house. “Priya, I’m really sorry.”
“You lied to me, Madhu, to my face,” she said. “How the hell am I supposed to trust you?”
“I should’ve told you that I had talked to him. I made a mistake, and you’re saying that you don’t trust me anymore?” Madhu asked. “I needed to talk to someone, and I did. You don’t have to insult me. I said I was sorry.”
“And that’s supposed to make it all OK?” Priya demanded.
“No, but you’re supposed to let things go once in a while. Life isn’t supposed to be so damned serious,” Madhu said.
“Serious? You told him and he told her and she told everyone. I asked you, I pleaded that we keep this quiet, but you just don’t have any common sense,” Priya said, and regretted it immediately. Calling him stupid wasn’t fair, she knew, but she didn’t feel like giving an inch or even half an inch.
“You know, we are just where Tarun and Aditi are. They’re just more honest than we are,” Madhu said once they were in their living room.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Madhu didn’t say anything and went into the bedroom.
Priya followed him, now ready for a good fight.
“I love you,” she said. “But you don’t really love me, do you? Otherwise—”
“So now I’m untrustworthy, without common sense, and I don’t love you. Anything else?” he demanded.
Priya took a deep breath.
“No, that’s it for now,” she said, and slammed the bathroom door shut as she went in.
He was sitting on the bed in his underwear when she came out brushed and scrubbed. She was still wearing the dress she had gone to the party in.
“Can we make up now?” Madhu asked.
Priya looked at him. “Are you offering monkey sex?”
Madhu smiled and then nodded. “I did promise that, and a promise is, after all, a promise.”
“Oh, please,” Priya said, and pushed him onto his back to straddle him.
“We’re nothing like Tarun and Aditi,” Madhu said, and pulled the zipper of her dress down.
“No,” Priya said, kissing him on the mouth. “I love you too much.”
“Just so we have no misunderstandings and we’re on the same page on this,” Madhu said, “can you tell me what your definition of monkey sex is?”
Transcript from message board www.surrogacyforyou.org
Trying1Time: I am so scared about having left the baby there. I feel so anxious. What am I supposed to do?
Prietysmommy: First thing, take a deep breath. This is very normal. I didn’t start sleeping until a week ago. We just got through the first trimester, and it has been rough. But my DH has been very supportive and that has helped a lot.
NobuNobi: I have to say having DH’s unstinting support (despite his horrible parents) has been so great. I don’t think I could get through this without him.
Mommy8774: My DH was also wonderful. I cried and cried and cried the first time when we came home. But he was a rock; he told me everything would be fine. My advice: Talk to your husband. You’ll feel much better.
MummiBest24: I don’t understand what the big worry is really. I mean someone is taking care of your child there; it isn’t like you left it on the street. I believe that when women use surrogates they feel the need to be extra hysterical because they don’t have the baby growing inside them.
Mommy8774: That is a horrible thing to say. We are genuinely
upset about not being able to see our babies grow. Why are you even on this message board? This is a supportive board and if you can’t be supportive, please don’t participate.
LastHope77: MummiBest24, I’m sure you didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings, but to call women who use a surrogate hysterical is truly unfair.
MummiBest24: I have had two children through surrogates and I know exactly how it feels. I was worried but not crying and crying all the time. That’s just insane and this is obviously not the right message board for people with a brain and a strong disposition. You losers can all sit and cry. It’s best for you.
Prietysmommy: OMG, what a bitch! Can we block this person from using our message board?
Mommy8774: I’ll check with the moderator. BRB.
Trying1Time: One more question. What kind of presents can I send to the SM? Should I also send something for the father?
CantConceive1970: I sent big boxes with stuff. Clean underwear. It doesn’t have to be Victoria’s Secret, just good stuff from Target or Walmart. Toys for the children. Nothing too expensive, simple stuff. Things like that. I never sent anything for the husband, but it’s a good idea. It’ll mean he feels good about the whole thing, too—if he doesn’t already, that is.
NobuNobi: My in-laws think we shouldn’t send the SM anything. After all, we’re paying her already. But I think we should send something. But it’s just so hard with my husband saying no all the time.
UnoBaby: My friends said the same thing, but really, can we pay a woman enough for carrying our baby? I sent perfume, silly woman stuff that she can’t even dream of buying and yes, underwear, too.
Prietysmommy: My SM keeps asking for stuff. I worry that if we say no she might hurt the baby. Next time we want another SM; this one is just too mercenary. We send whatever she asks for but nothing extra.
A House for Happy Mothers: A Novel Page 8
