by Sonali Dev
With Jen, their lovemaking had been fun. A sport—wild, fast, adventuresome—with Jen always the victor and him a grateful teammate.
With Jess, with this girl in whom his wife’s heart lived on, with her, words deserted him. With her touch had been a disturbance so deep it had altered him.
His hands, hands he had prided himself on for their skill, hands he had wanted so badly to use for something that made him matter and then given up on, those hands felt alive again. They craved touching her, feeling all those new and unexplored reactions with her. Craved it with such ferocity, he had to stop himself from knocking on that door she’d been locked up behind for so long.
He had never felt so out of control. Not even as a hormonal teenager. She took his control. She had taken his ability to hold back last night. Stripped him to the bone. No, with her sex was not play, not sport, not banter. It was living, breathing, being. It was pain as much as pleasure. It was a tearing up of all he was and of putting it all together again.
This new him was a strange amalgam of guilt and gratitude, calm one moment, raging with restlessness the next moment.
He started to file through all of Jen’s stuff one more time, a horrible awareness of what he had opened himself up to descending on him in a crash. As he touched the many things his wife had touched, he knew with absolute certainty that he didn’t have it in him to bear loss again.
By the time he was on the last box filled with useless shit, with the sound of the water in the bathroom booming in his ears, he knew he had to find the damn evidence. He had to find it fast.
The windows overlooking the lake were frosted at the edges, the temperature was falling again today. Jen had loved this view. More than anything else in the condo, she had loved what she saw when she looked out these windows. It was who she was.
And just like that, he knew that the evidence wasn’t here. Everything in these boxes really was useless shit. None of it meant anything to Jen, and she wouldn’t care if someone threw all of it away. So, where was it?
It was the single worst time for the bell to ring. Nikhil strode to the front door and found the last person he wanted to see right now. Seeing Vic in Jen’s condo was such a déjà vu moment that for a beat they were both silent.
“Hey, man,” Vic said finally, thumping Nic on the shoulder and pushing past him into the living room.
“What are you doing here?” Nic asked, following him.
“I was at a client in the city so I decided to stop by.”
“Or Ria and Aie sent you to check up on me?”
Vic met his eyes. For a moment he looked like he was done with that tiptoeing thing he’d been doing. “You didn’t tell anyone where you were going or how long you’d be.” His eyes skimmed the white sheet-covered room and filled with sadness. But only for an instant. God forbid the ever-stoic Vic would break down, even though he was the one who had swathed all that furniture in white sheets. Suddenly, Nic didn’t want to be here surrounded by the white sheets.
On the heels of that thought came a blast of guilt.
Vic started thumbing a message on his phone. “Hold on, just letting them know I found you.” He didn’t make it sound like it was a reprimand. But it was one, and it blew the guilt into a storm.
“While you’re at it, let them know I don’t need a babysitter, will ya?”
Vic looked up from his phone. “Don’t you think you’re being just a little bit unfair?”
“Unfair? I’m the one being unfair here? Can’t I have some damn space? If I need to do this alone, can’t I fucking do it alone?”
“But you’re not doing it alone.”
And there it was, the real problem. “Perfect. Let’s make this about Jess.”
“Nic, listen. It’s just a little strange, okay? You’ve come home after two years. You’re here for the first time since Jen died. And you’ve brought someone with you.”
“Wow, you can say her name. I thought you had forgotten how to say it.”
“You think I’ve forgotten Jen?” Vic looked so angry, it was like he wanted to punch Nic in the face, and it felt fantastic. He needed Vic to stop dancing around him like he was made of glass.
Vic squeezed his temples and shielded his eyes. “I’m sorry. But for two years you’ve shut us out. None of us could reach you, and suddenly you show up with some teenager you barely know.”
“She’s not a teenager, she’s twenty-five years old.” Shit, that made her ten years younger than him.
“And then you cling to her as if you’re a smitten teenager yourself. How the hell aren’t we supposed to be worried about you?”
“I what? Are you fucking nuts?” Nikhil ran his fingers through his hair, and anger rose in him at having let it grow out. His family thought he’d moved on. Somehow that felt like betrayal. “You think I’d forget Jen so easily?”
“Nic, there’s nothing wrong with moving on. Jen would’ve—”
“No. Shut up. Don’t tell me in one breath that you think I’m cheating on Jen and then act like you understand.”
“I never said you were cheating on Jen.”
“Yes, yes, you did. It’s exactly what you implied. And you know what, fuck you. You’re right I’m banging the shit out of her. But it’s just about the sex. That’s what I am now. Someone who needs to fuck to feel alive.”
But Vic wasn’t looking at him anymore. His gaze was frozen over Nikhil’s shoulder.
He realized with a dull thud of horror that the sound of the water in the bathroom had stopped.
He spun around.
Jess looked like he had stabbed her in the gut with a blunt knife and then done it again, harder. Not even a speck of color on her skin, her palms pressed to her belly, where the knife had pierced.
She didn’t meet his eyes.
She looked at Vic instead. “Hi.” Her lips did a weird stretching thing, but she couldn’t form them into a smile. “Is Ria okay?” A tiny cough that hollowed out Nic’s insides escaped her. “Is everything okay?”
Vic went to her and patted her shoulder so kindly she relaxed a little, and suddenly Nikhil didn’t know why he had been so angry with him. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you guys didn’t forget about the dohal jevan. It’s today. Nic wasn’t answering his phone.”
She gave a hint of a nod. “We were just going to leave. Right?” The question was for Nikhil, but she was still struggling to meet his eyes while gathering up all that damn composure.
He had promised not to hurt her. “Jess, I’m—”
She raised her hand, cutting him off, and finally met his gaze, her eyes begging him not to make her acknowledge the horrible thing he had said, not in front of Vic.
“Please,” she mouthed. Or maybe the plea was just in her eyes. “I’m ready to go. We’re done here. Right, Nikhil?”
He nodded, swallowing his apology for when they were alone and letting her collect her beloved bag before following her out the door. She was right. They were done here.
35
You find the most important things in life suddenly. And it’s almost funny how ordinary those extraordinary moments feel.
—Dr. Jen Joshi
All Nikhil wanted was a few moments alone with her. To go down on his knees and beg forgiveness. But Vic had taken the train into the city—his family took no chances when they were smothering you—and he was driving back with them.
Nikhil knew that acting like she hadn’t heard his terrible words was the only way Jess saw to handle the shame he knew she was feeling and hiding beneath all that calm. He had to show her it was him, not her, who deserved to be ashamed. But she didn’t want him doing it in front of Vic and so he wouldn’t.
Fortunately, Vic kept up a steady stream of conversation, drawing her out with stories about how his company approached children’s learning styles. Naturally, as a mother, it was a topic close to her heart and Vic seemed so genuinely interested in her opinion that Nikhil suspected he had jumped down Vic’s throat unfairly. S
omething he’d been doing a lot of with his family lately.
By the time they reached his parents’ home, several cars were already parked on the driveway. Of course they would come home right in the middle of Ria’s baby shower. Aie’s silk flower garland was hanging across the main door as it always did on holidays and ceremonies.
“Breathe, Vic,” he said, thumping his cousin on the shoulder as they entered the house and hung up their coats. “I’m not going to break down. I’m actually glad I’m here for Ria’s dohal jevan.”
Vic responded by throwing his arms around Nikhil. “Thanks, man,” he said, and this time Nikhil returned his hug as though he meant it. Vic, who never knew how to quit when he was ahead tried again to take the bag from Jess’s hands. “Good luck with that,” Nic wanted to say to him. Instead he said, “Is it just the aunties?”
Vic nodded and headed straight to the kitchen and to Ria.
Nikhil stopped outside the archway that led to the kitchen.
Aie and her five closest friends stood around the island threading flowers into long garlands as they oohed and aahed over Vic as he kissed Ria, who was perched on a chair that had been draped in a sari.
The last time Nikhil had seen these women all dressed up like this in his mother’s kitchen was at his wedding. He couldn’t make himself go in. He stepped back into the foyer.
Jess, who had been avoiding his gaze like it held communicable diseases, studied him with calm eyes. Despite how hurt she was, she was assessing his need for comfort and trying to find the best way to comfort him.
“They’re all dressed up,” she said, leaning against the wall next to him, hiding away with him. She was wearing her usual black sweatshirt over yoga pants. Only, the ill-fitted clothes no longer hid anything from him. “Maybe I should go upstairs and wait there?”
He reached out and grabbed her hand, hoping she wouldn’t pull away, needing her not to.
She didn’t. She squeezed back and stayed right where she was.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “What I said to Vic. I didn’t—”
“I know,” she said, understanding softening her eyes. “It was just a manner of speaking.” Her smile was sad but real, and he knew she had forgiven him even though he didn’t deserve to be forgiven. She understood, even though he himself didn’t understand. “Are those your mother’s friends?” She wanted him to leave it alone, and he didn’t know how not to right now.
He followed her gaze to the archway. “Yes. The Auntie Brigade.” That’s what Vic had nicknamed them.
As was their way, the aunties were all wearing saris that matched—pink and blue—very clever.
“They’re wearing matching saris,” she said, indicating the archway he had backed away from like a thief in his own home. “Is that traditional for dohal jevan?”
“Actually, it’s an American tradition. In America, pink is for a baby girl and blue is for a baby boy.”
“Really? So girls can’t wear blue?” she asked.
“God forbid,” he said. “And boys most certainly can’t wear pink.”
“Oh. Joy looks adorable in pink.”
From the look on her face, he had no doubt Joy looked adorable no matter what. A hunger to meet her baby, to know him, washed through him. “I’m sure he does. We just like getting our gender roles assigned bright and early here in America.”
“And everyone wears pink and blue for baby showers in America?”
“No. The aunties always match their clothes. They call one another and discuss ‘the dress code’ before each gathering.”
“Really? That’s so sweet.” She smiled up at him.
What was sweet was Jess when she smiled like that. Her eyes disappearing as if she were smiling into the sun.
It was gone too fast, possibly because he had stared at it like some psycho and made her conscious of it.
His thumb stroked the soft skin of her hand. “Do you really want to go upstairs?”
“No,” she said as though he didn’t know why she was staying. “It’s not like I’m family or anything. I’m sure no one will notice that I’m not dressed up. Do you want to go inside?”
He nodded and led her into the kitchen, his hand pressed into the small of her back. All five aunties turned to them in unison. Their eyes darted in awkward little dances between Jess and him, varying degrees of sympathy shooting at him in lieu of words, the silence coming up abrupt and sudden after the animated chatter they had interrupted.
“Hello, Auntiejis, I hope we didn’t hold everyone up.”
That’s all it took. They rushed at him. “Of course you’re not holding anything up, beta!” “We only just got here.” They patted his face, pulled him into hugs. They were smiling, but each face carried a diluted version of his mother’s worry. Suddenly, they went silent again. There were just too many topics to avoid. His weight, his clothes, his two-year absence, a strange woman by his side. Finally, after all these years, he’d struck his mother’s friends speechless. Crazy as it was, he smiled.
Aie stepped in. “You’re here just in time. We were just about to do a quick blessing for Ria. That’s all. Nothing elaborate,” she said, in the voice she used when she wasn’t quite sure how to approach a conversation but saw no way out of it.
A silver platter with an oil lamp, some vermillion, turmeric, and rice, and some sweets sat on the island. The silver platter had been in their family for at least three generations, and his mother had used it to say a blessing for him and to ward off the evil eye at every birthday and Diwali. He had explained the ritual to Jen the first time he brought her home, and Aie had totally embarrassed him by lighting the lamp and twirling the platter around his head three times and then doing the same to Jen.
One of the aunties leaned over the oil lamp with a lighter.
“Come, come, Jen, you come too,” someone said to Jess.
The oxygen seemed to disappear from the room, leaving behind so much silence it echoed around the high ceiling.
He didn’t know exactly which one of the aunties had made the error, but they all stared at the floor as though it had suddenly turned into the most interesting thing in the room.
Amazingly enough, the mention of Jen didn’t tear his heart out. It was funny, in a sick sort of way, that one of them had made the one slip they had all been avoiding with such focus.
“You meant Jess,” his mother said, yet again stepping up and lifting the boulder of awkwardness off their collective shoulders.
He should have stepped up and eased things, but he felt removed from the scene, seeing each expression, each little scuffle being fought inside all the players from a distance. The only calm in the room was Jess, her face a peaceful pond with elephants stampeding at the banks, and it grounded him.
Aie held the prayer platter out to Jess. She looked away from him and at the platter Aie was offering her and stepped away from it. “I can’t.”
His mother looked stricken. “Jess, beta, we don’t believe in such things. Come, it’s okay.”
Jess didn’t move, her face carefully blank, her jaw set. He recognized the look. For some reason, she believed that she couldn’t offer a blessing. Based on the sadness on Aie’s face, she seemed to think it had something to do with her being a widow.
Sometimes he hated all the superstition, all the precarious intricacies of his culture. Some days he wished he could throw it all off, un-know everything that Aie had worked so hard to code into him, but that still sometimes felt just as foreign as it felt familiar.
“Aie . . .” he said, “let her be.”
His mother put the platter down. “That’s fine. Everything’s fine. We already have five women here to offer the blessing, so we’re fine. Let’s do the gender game first. Ria, you ready to pick out the baby’s gender?”
Everyone smiled, or pretended to, and surrounded Ria. They offered her a platter of sweet treats and asked her to choose what she had a hankering for. Apparently, the treat that she picked would predict whether the baby was a b
oy or a girl. There was always a fifty-percent chance that they were right.
The first thing he had wanted to know when he found out Jen was pregnant was the gender. He’d hated not knowing whether to think of their baby as a she or a he. It had made him feel too distanced from his child, and he’d wanted no distance.
Yet again the stab of pain made his eyes seek out Jess, but she was gone. She must’ve slipped out while Ria chose between a lad-doo and a karanji. The urge to seek her out was strong, but leaving here felt like leaving something precious behind. It felt like cheating. This absence of grief felt like cheating.
He dragged himself to the stairs and sat down on the bottom step, wanting to go up but unable to. He listened to the laughter and the teasing in the kitchen. All that normalcy sat like a weight on his chest, even as it made him feel lighter than he had in ages.
“Where did Jess go?” Ria said, waddling up to him and lowering herself down next to him, an act that took considerable effort, given the size of her belly combined with the fact that she was wrapped up in a sari and had flower garlands draped around her wrists and neck.
“I was just going to go find out.”
She threw him one of those looks that tried to gauge what she could or could not say around him, and he wanted to shake her.
“Did you, you know, find what you were looking for?”
He shook his head. No, he hadn’t, he hadn’t found what he should have been looking for two years ago.
“Nikhil, is everything okay?”
Nothing was okay, except Ria was pregnant and healthy and worried about him. And maybe he needed to stop the tiptoeing first.
“I’m sorry, Ria, but I had to do this by myself.” He put a hand up when she was about to interrupt. “And I know I wasn’t by myself. But Jess—she’s really helped me, okay? And it was the only way I could do it. Can you understand that? Please?”
Ria raised an eyebrow at him, all indignant. Classic Ria. “I can see that.”
