by Sonali Dev
“Are you telling your mother to get out?”
“No, Baiji, I’m asking. Mili and I need to talk. Please.”
“What is there to talk about? You’re going to be a father. Evidently you’ve done something to hurt this girl very badly and it’s made you so miserable these past few months you’ve made us all sick with worry. Now she’s here. You’re here. Make it right.”
For one brief moment Samir looked like he was going to smile. Mili felt like she was going to smile, but neither of them smiled.
“Baiji, I can’t make it right if you don’t give us two minutes to talk.”
“So talk,” Rima said, looking like she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Virat!” Samir hollered.
“I’m right here.” Apparently Virat had been in the room all along.
“Please take your wife downstairs. Or I’m going to pick her up and take her down myself.”
“I think you’ve done enough sweeping women off their feet for one day, thank you. Leave this one to me.” Virat leaned over, picked up his pregnant wife, and headed out the door.
“Lily Auntie, you too,” Samir said. “Because I’ll carry you down if I have to.”
Lily Auntie scampered out of the room, giggling into her palm.
“Put me down, Virat. Baiji is watching,” Rima hissed at her husband, but she seemed perfectly content where she was.
Baiji stood. “I just found out my son got a girl pregnant before marriage. I think I can handle watching the other one carry his wife down some stairs.” She patted Mili on the head and handed her the plate. “Before any talking there will be eating. First she finishes the food.” She gave Samir a stern look.
Baiji didn’t get an argument from Samir on that. He herded them out the door, and watched until they were well and truly gone. He pulled the door shut and waited there for a few seconds, then quickly opened it to make sure no one had sneaked back up.
Finally he turned to her. “I’m sorry about that.”
To keep from responding Mili forced a piece of roti into her mouth. And then couldn’t stop. The food was delicious but the taste brought back so many memories of Samir cooking for them she had to keep choking back the tears, which apparently had decided they had stayed away long enough. And choking back the impulse to seek him out with her eyes.
He stood motionless, his hip leaning against a huge desk that looked like something out of one of those good-living magazines, all solid wood and polished surfaces. The entire room looked like something out of a very fancy film, only warmer and suffused with something far too familiar, someone far too familiar. But between the potent silence and the rich-people décor, he might as well have been standing across the earth.
“How could you not have told me sooner?” he said the moment she put the last morsel in her mouth. He took the plate from her hands and put it on the nightstand. “How long have you known?”
“I am not . . . I’m not pregnant, Samir.”
Her imagination had to be in overdrive because she could have sworn she saw disappointment dim his eyes. “Then why did you say you were?”
“I didn’t. You asked me a question and your family—”
“Fu—” he trailed off and began pacing the room, his fingers in his overgrown hair.
She reminded herself how angry she was with him, how filthy he had made her feel. But the pain and loneliness of the past months had been like a sandstorm, eroding through the giant dunes of her anger.
He turned his molten gaze on her. That gaze with its wounded vulnerability had stolen her head once, made her fall on him like a hungry animal. Now it made rabid fear rise inside her.
“I’m sorry. They aren’t usually so obnoxious. It’s just that—Why did you pass out then? Are you—you’re not sick, are you?” Raw panic flashed across his face. Tenderness and longing melted in his eyes.
She had been in hell because of him. She could not let that look take her back there. “I’m fine. I just hadn’t eaten.”
“You hadn’t eaten?” Again that rawness in his voice, again that concerned caress of his gaze. She had to get away from him. Give him back his stupid haveli and just get away from him.
“Samir, please don’t. I can’t.” The sound of his name trembled on her lips, made her voice crack.
He stepped back and schooled his features into a mask. Not quite Pompeii, but he tried. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to . . . It’s just that—”
“Why did you sign the haveli over to me? You can’t do that.”
“It’s yours. Your naani was right to ask for it.”
“No, she wasn’t. You were right—there was never a marriage.”
His eyes softened. No, they more than softened, they bled with understanding. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry you had to see Virat and Rima like that.”
Mili blinked. She had been startled when Virat had introduced himself. She hadn’t expected to see him here. But it was the near physical impact of seeing Samir again that had taken everything over. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pressed her face into them. Twenty years of thinking she loved someone and she hadn’t even registered meeting him. And Rima, so she was his wife—Samir’s bhabhi.
You are not my bhabhi, Mili.
Oh God.
How many times was she going to play those conversations in her head? How many times was she going to relive that month? From the first moment she had laid eyes on Samir she had been able to think of little else. And for most of that time the pain had been blinding. And here he was, looking at her in that way that had put her in this situation in the first place.
She got off his bed. “I already told you, you were right. We didn’t have a marriage.”
Samir didn’t respond. He just looked at her like he wished she would say more, like his life depended on her saying more.
She really had to get out of here before this went any further. He was too much of a slippery slope for her. “Please don’t put me through this again. I can’t have anything to do with you. Please.”
His face softened even more, and she knew he could see right through to the horrible storm inside her. “Mili—”
“No, Samir. No.” She put her hand up for him to stop, for him to stay away from her.
He stopped in his tracks. But he didn’t move back. “Just tell me what you want. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Take the haveli back. I don’t want it. You can’t just give me something that big.”
Samir had never in his adult life felt this helpless. She was turning him back into the whiny pushover he’d been as a child. But he wasn’t that pathetic child anymore. He could and would give her whatever the fuck he wanted. He had given her everything anyway. Everything that was his was already hers. It meant nothing without her. “I’m not taking the haveli back.”
“You gave her the haveli?” This time Virat barged into his room with a bowl in his hands.
“For God’s sake, Bhai, can you people at least knock?” He had never before raised his voice to his brother. Right now he had to fist his hands to keep from pushing him out of his room.
“You gave our ancestral property to a girl you got pregnant and you want me to knock?”
“Get out.”
Virat skirted around him as if he weren’t shouting like a madman and headed straight for Mili. He handed her a bowl of kheer. “Baiji sent me up with dessert. It’s crazy good.”
“Get out, Bhai, or God help me I will bodily throw you out.”
“You’ve never talked to your brother like that. What’s wrong with you?” Rima followed Virat into the room, one hand supporting her stomach.
Along with the anger already exploding inside him, terror gripped Samir in the gut. “Rima, you need to stay off your damn feet.”
From the look on Virat’s face he was on Samir’s side on this one. Thank God. The two of them grabbed Rima and pushed her into a chair.
“Baiji!” She had the gall to call for help.
“What is going on, Samir?” Baiji was at his bedroom door in an instant. She had always been spry but this was ridiculous.
Samir grabbed his head, then grabbed Mili’s hand and tried to pull her off the bed. “We’re going for a drive.”
Of course she didn’t comply.
“You are not going anywhere. She’s pregnant and she just fainted. She’s not going anywhere until she sees a doctor.” Baiji challenged him to argue with her and threw a protective look at Mili.
“You’re pregnant, Mili?” Great, now Kim was up here too.
“Should we take this downstairs? Why leave Sara out?” Samir stood between Mili and his family and glared at them. He was too afraid to look at Mili. She had looked so fragile before they had all come barging in.
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Sara shouted from downstairs in a voice that did not belong to a woman who hadn’t been able to get a word out a few months ago. “Mili, you didn’t tell me you were pregnant.”
Samir grabbed his head and sat down on the bed next to Mili. He was about to let out another yell, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mili’s lips quirk. Not a whole lot, just a little bit. And for a moment, just for a flash, her eyes twinkled. She caught him looking. A sweet memory of how things had been passed between them. But then it was gone and she looked terrified by what had just happened.
Samir stood up, shielding her from all those curious eyes. He didn’t want anyone to see her like this, like a wounded animal. He faced his family. “Mili is not pregnant.” Then he shouted it down to Sara. “Mili’s not pregnant.”
“I heard you the first time. Keep going,” Sara shouted up.
Behind him he heard a sound. It was suspiciously close to a giggle. He spun around. Her hand was pressed into her mouth. Behind her delicate fingers hid the most beautiful thing—not quite her full-blast one-twenty-watt smile—but a smile nonetheless.
Samir forgot what he’d been saying.
“What are you talking about?” Baiji said behind him.
“Then why did you say she was?” Rima added.
Samir raised his eyes heavenward and her eyes sparkled. “I didn’t,” he said, soaking up her smile before turning around. “Anyway, the point is she’s not pregnant and she doesn’t need a doctor. What she needs is ten minutes to talk to me without having all of you violate every tenet of civilized behavior.”
“But why would you give her the haveli if she’s not pregnant?” Virat asked, ignoring Samir’s rant entirely.
“Why would he give her the haveli if she were pregnant?” Rima asked.
“He’s not giving me the haveli,” Mili said behind him, and walked around him to face everyone.
“I am,” Samir said.
“Why?” This from Baiji.
“Because her dowry saved it from being auctioned. It’s hers.”
Mili couldn’t believe Samir had just said that to his entire family. The attention of every single person in the room focused on her. But Samir’s attention was what stole her breath. “It’s hers because she’s done more for it than any of us.”
Finally, there was silence in the room.
But it didn’t last. “What is that supposed to mean, Samir?” Rima said. She tried to stand up, but she seemed to lose her strength and sat back down, her face suddenly as white as a sheet.
Virat was on his knees next to his wife in an instant. “Rima.” Just that one word and Mili felt a lifetime of love wrapped up in it. Rima stroked his cheek.
“Rima, are you okay?” Samir pressed a hand into her shoulder and looked so scared that Mili wished she could go to him.
“Of course I’m not okay, Samir. I have no idea what you’re talking about. And frankly you’ve been acting so crazy lately you’re really starting to scare me.” She pressed her hand into her belly and leaned forward with a pained hiss.
The blood drained from Virat’s face. “Rima, jaan, let’s get you to the bed. You need to lie down. Samir is fine.”
Rima gave her husband a soothing look and turned to Samir. “What do you mean Mili has done more for the haveli than any of us? What’s going on, Samir? Virat, do you know what’s going on?”
Virat turned to Samir, then looked at Mili, then back again at Samir. “Bloody hell,” he said as realization dawned on him.
Baiji looked from Virat to Samir. “Oh Krishna, what have you boys done now?”
Mili felt the weight of Samir’s gaze, but she couldn’t meet it. Not only did Samir’s family know she had slept with him, now they all knew that she was the one girl who should never have gone anywhere near him.
Rima looked from face to face, her own confused face going whiter and whiter with every breath. She started to say something, but another gasp of pain escaped her lips. She pressed a hand into her belly and swallowed.
The collective anxiety of the room shifted to Rima. Her breathing became labored, her face scrunched up in pain. Baiji used the end of her sari to dab the sweat that beaded across Rima’s forehead. “Samir, call the driver, we need to go to the hospital right now.”
Before the words had left Baiji’s mouth, Rima screamed and doubled over.
29
“Oy hoy, look at your faces, did someone die?” Rima sat propped up in one of those partially folded spaceship-style hospital beds. Despite the glazed, medicated look in her suddenly sunken eyes she was a stunningly beautiful woman, all delicate features and skin almost as light as Samir’s.
Mili stood by the door and watched Samir wrap his arms around her, taking care to avoid all the machines and tubes spouting from her like an octopus. “Yeah, us. We almost died. Thanks for scaring us to death.”
Instead of responding to Samir, Rima beckoned Mili over. “I hope you know what drama queens these brothers are.”
Samir tried to catch Mili’s eye, but she kept her focus squarely on Rima and took the hand she was holding out.
Rima was right. Samir and Virat had both been a mess last night when Rima had gone into premature labor. Samir had asked her if she wanted to stay home, but strange as it was, she had wanted to be at the hospital with them. None of them had slept, eaten, or talked while they waited all night for the doctors to stop the labor. The baby was still a week away from the safe thirty-week mark and it was imperative that he-slash-she stay inside for at least a few weeks more. Mili said a silent prayer and squeezed Rima’s hand.
“Would you like your breakfast?” Samir picked up the green Jell-O from Rima’s food tray.
Rima made a face.
“Put that awful thing away,” Baiji said, smacking Samir’s hand. “Lily is bringing home-cooked food.”
“So, what’s the story?” Rima raised a brow at Samir. “What’s this thing about the haveli and Mili’s dowry?”
Virat and Samir looked at each other.
“Arrey, what are you gaping around like that for? Why did the haveli have to be saved and why was Mili’s dowry—Oh! Oh, Good God!” Rima’s eyes popped to perfect circles. “Oh God, Samir, how could you not tell us? Virat, did he tell you?”
Virat swallowed hard and rubbed her feet. “Rima, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but can we talk about it later?”
“I’m right, am I not?” She turned to Samir. Samir’s gaze bounced from Rima to Mili, then to Virat.
“Why are you looking around like a fool? No one’s going to help you. First you run off and get married and then you keep it from us? What is wrong with you?”
It was a good thing the bed had rails because Mili had to hold on to keep from falling off.
Rima turned to Mili. “I don’t understand what the big secret is? Why didn’t you two just tell us? Was it because of the baby?” She touched her belly. “Did you meet in America? Oh my God, are you taking him back to America with you?”
“For someone who just put us through hell last night, you’re just bursting with questions, aren’t you? Why don’t you rest for a while? We’ll explain everything later,” Samir said.
“Arrey, let
Mili answer. Why are you interrupting?” Rima looked at Mili.
“Samir’s right. We can discuss it later. You should rest now.” Mili pushed her back on the bed and pulled the covers over her.
Baiji watched Mili with a curious expression and Mili gave up on trying to tamp down her stupid blushing reflex. Then Baiji turned her mother’s curiosity on Samir. He looked away.
“But I’m not tired. What I am is hungry,” Rima said.
As if on cue the door opened and Lily Auntie walked in with a carrier full of food and a worried frown on her gently lined face. Two other worried faces followed her into the room.
“We wanted to come and see you, Rima-bhabhi,” Lily said tentatively. “Sam-Sir said it would be fine.”
“Of course it’s fine. Come, come.” Rima smiled and waved them in.
Baiji took the food carrier from Lily and started laying food out on a steel plate. Mili helped her.
“Samir, why don’t you introduce your wife to your staff.” Rima put a spoonful of dal and rice in her mouth and gave the three new entrants a meaningful look.
Samir squeezed his temples.
He had a staff?
He searched her face with his too tired eyes, looking almost afraid of her reaction. “Staff?” she mouthed, eyebrows raised, and he relaxed.
“Sam-Sir, you made marriage and didn’t even tell us? How like that?” The tall skinny man in a bright red shirt and meticulously slicked back hair threw a seriously offended look at Samir. Then flicked his head in Mili’s direction with a camera-ready smile. “Sam-Sir, at least do intro, no?”
Samir let out a sigh. “Mili, this is Javed. Javed, this is Mili.”
Mili couldn’t help but smile. “How are you, Javed bhai?”
Javed flashed her another camera-ready smile. “Very fine. Very fine. Myself Sam-Sir’s driver,” he said in English, even though both Samir and Mili had addressed him in Hindi. “You from America, Mili-bhabhi?”
“We met in America, yes.”
“Ah, so now I get!” Javed said, still in English.
“Javed.” The warning in Samir’s tone was impossible to miss.
