by Saumya Dave
Everyone stops talking and turns toward her. There’s a mixture of curiosity and hesitation on their faces. Bina’s surprised to feel a tingling in her cheeks. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. After all, she can’t deny that she’s also interested in the toupees. And what if Anita was right about this being a bad idea?
She considers bringing up Anita’s name, asking if anyone has heard from her. Everyone here knows Anita and Bina apologized to each other for how things went at the wedding reception. Everyone also knows they haven’t spoken since. Bina started and stopped three different texts to Anita over the past week. Last night, she scrolled through their shared photos on Facebook. Why does she resemble such a breakup cliché? This is not how things were supposed to be.
But there’s no point in mentioning any of that now. Everyone has finally gotten over Natasha and Karan’s disaster of a proposal. Mentioning Anita would only shift the attention back onto Bina’s life and that’s not why they’re all here today.
“Right. You have been telling us to focus.” Kavita smiles. Thanks to the recent Botox she thinks nobody knows about, the crow’s-feet around her eyes are fainter today, as though someone ran an eraser over them.
“Yes, I have. Multiple times. And we keep getting off track,” Bina says. Is this how her teachers felt all those years? How did they stay sane? She should send them a long overdue apology for every time she made it her mission to not pay attention. “Anyway, it’s my fault for making this a potluck lunch and discussion. We should probably just stick to chai next time. Let’s refill our cups and sit in the living room.”
There’s a buzz of agreement as all four of them collect around Bina’s black marble island, which is covered with an assortment of plates.
“Bina, you always have the perfect spreads,” Mira says as she admires the clearly-made-from-scratch pecan pie, avocado dosas, and spicy tandoori pasta. “We shouldn’t have even brought food. I’ll take a Pyrex full of your leftovers and give them to Chand for dinner. He’d rather eat anything you cook anyway!”
“Same with Bipin!” Kavita nods as she and Mira add extra teaspoons of sugar to their cups.
The mention of Bipin’s name brings the conversation to an abrupt halt.
“Sorry,” Kavita says as she pretends to focus on adding mint to her chai.
“I’m not sorry. I was wondering what was going on with your husband,” Mona says in the same refreshing, unapologetic tone she had with Bina when she approached her at the end of the wedding reception.
Like every other Indian in Georgia, Mona also saw the Instagram post the kids put up. Bina told anyone who asked that Chats Over Chai was still a work in progress.
But Mona’s blunt commentary on Anita’s behavior, coupled with how she took Bina aside to a private hallway and told her to “screw everyone,” compelled Bina to invite her today.
When she got here, Mira whispered, “I didn’t know she was coming.”
“I invited her,” Bina said with her best you’ll-get-over-it smile.
She’s reminded of how right her decision was when now Mona adds, “Well, speaking of Bipin, are you okay from all that, Kavita? I bet that wasn’t the most fun car ride home.”
Kavita laughs. “Of course. You know him. He always has strong opinions.”
“That he does.”
“But he’s sorry for how things happened that night,” Kavita says.
“He said that?” Mona presses.
Mira shakes her head and waves her hands in a don’t-ask type of signal.
“No.” Kavita’s face falls. “But I know he is sorry.”
“Of course he is,” Mira says.
What an egotistical asshole! Devi yelled on FaceTime the other day when Bina gave her a replay of the events. You are going to have to put him in his place.
Bina didn’t know how to tell Devi that nobody puts Bipin in his place.
“Since we’re discussing this anyway,” Kavita says, “I would appreciate it if nobody told him I was here.”
“Wait. Bipin doesn’t know you’re at my house?” Bina asks.
“He didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to come. . . . I know he’s just being cautious,” Kavita says. “You know he’s on all these boards and has these far-off dreams about running for office someday. He just wants to make sure our family has the best possible chance to succeed.”
For him to succeed, Bina wants to say. From the looks on Mona’s and Mira’s faces, she can tell they’re thinking something similar.
Bina pictures Bipin’s face twisted into a scowl. Everything from his bushy eyebrows to his red, round nose make him seem like the type of man who is always on edge. She and Deepak have seen Bipin get upset plenty of times for plenty of reasons. Traffic. Cold dal. One of their kids not getting a good enough job offer. He snapped at waiters and flight attendants, something that always irritated Bina. It always struck her that Kavita seemed to be a direct contrast to him, with her bright eyes, wide smile, and tendency to laugh at everything. She always thought these differences made them an ideal pair, but now she wonders if there’s a side to their marriage that’s been kept behind closed doors.
“We won’t say anything,” Bina says. Mira and Mona nod in agreement.
Bina motions for them to move to the formal living room. They all settle on the gray leather couches. She’s glad nobody’s sitting in Anita’s usual spot, the powder-blue armchair in the corner.
“So, who wants to start?” Bina asks.
Everyone stares at her in silence.
“Anyone?” Bina’s lips twist into an awkward smile. Now she really feels like a teacher. Her friends are staring at their teacups, their laps, their phones. Anything to avoid eye contact with her. She glances at the clock. They only have fifteen minutes left. Where did the time go? She really needs to make sure to have a better plan for next time.
Kavita smiles at a large framed photo of the Joshi family after Suhani and Zack’s wedding. All of them are wearing red, white, and gold, per Suhani’s insistence. “You’re really lucky you have a daughter like Suhani, who wanted to get married and gave you a son-in-law.”
“Thank you. But let’s focu—”
“A cute, white son-in-law! Now, they know how to keep their wives happy,” Mira says before giving an apologetic look to Mona, who is stifling a laugh. It’s no secret that Mira has a thing for white men. She once brought over the first Magic Mike DVD and passed it to Bina under the dining table as if it were an illegal drug.
“It must be nice to just sit here sometimes and look back on all these memories,” Kavita notes as she gazes at the other happy, perfect photos of Bina’s happy, perfect family.
“You really are blessed, Bina.”
For a second, Bina sees the way they all view her, the way they’ve always viewed her. Maybe she should tell them she’s less the so-fortunate type of blessed and more the bless-her-heart type of blessed, the latter being a common southern expression for delivering judgment or sass.
She takes a sip of chai and imagines sharing the thoughts unraveling in her mind: Yes, I’m so blessed! I may have let go of my biggest dreams, filled my life with everything I thought I was supposed to do, and somehow still feel empty. But, yes, I am so very blessed!
Instead, she smiles and says, “Kavita, your Sonam will have a wedding, too, when she’s ready.”
Mona nods. “She will. It’s only a matter of time before you’re getting sick of looking at centerpieces and lehengas and cocktail-hour menus.”
“Only God knows when she’ll get there.” Kavita clasps her hands together as if she’s about to pray. “Sonam doesn’t even talk to me about any of that now. Says I’m putting too much pressure on her, but I think she doesn’t want to commit and settle down like an adult. She and Sanjay have been together for almost ten years! And living together for three.”
Mira frowns. “I
thought you said they just got an apartment together last year.”
Kavita shakes her head. “Oh, that was obviously a lie she told me to cover up that she’s been shacking up with the man for a while. These girls all lie, I tell you. At least Natasha had the nerve to be up front and say no to getting married.”
“Okay, then.” Bina glances at the grandfather clock in the back corner of the room. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but we’ve actually run out of time, so I guess our meeting is over.”
Kavita and Mona collect their plates and cups. But Mira stays glued to the couch.
“Oh my God.” Mira’s eyes are wide as she scrolls through her phone.
“Is something wrong?” Bina asks.
“I, uh, don’t know if I should say,” Mira says.
Mira usually has no qualms about dispersing her social intel. She also knows how to do it in a way that makes people want to listen. (It’s likely the same reason her daughter, Pooja, has become such a successful lifestyle influencer. They know how to keep people interested.) Bina once walked into Mira’s house when she was on speakerphone with a customer service rep, who said, “Of course he went back to live with his mother! What a chump!”
“Now you have to tell us,” Mona demands. “You can’t start with that and just leave us hanging!”
“I know. I know. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Mira rubs her temples. “Bina, can we talk alone?”
“Sure. Why?” Bina asks. Is it about Bipin? Or Mira’s daughter?
“Just trust me, okay?” Mira looks at Bina. Her heart thuds in her chest.
“Trust you about what?” Bina can’t handle another second of this guessing nonsense. She grabs Mira’s phone.
Her breath catches in her throat. Natasha’s on the screen. Her Natasha. It looks like she’s on a stage somewhere, somewhere dark and dirty. She’s wearing one of Suhani’s T-shirts that’s in desperate need of a wash and iron.
“What is this?” Bina asks as a flash of warmth spreads throughout her body. “Where did you get it?”
“It’s on YouTube apparently. Pooja sent it to me by accident. She told me not to watch it because she meant for it to go to one of her friends.”
There’s a play button. Bina clicks it and watches her daughter pace back and forth. There are a few cheers but it’s too dark for Bina to see if there’s a big audience. When was this recorded? Where the heck is she?
Natasha’s face has that flushed look that always tells Bina she’s had too much to drink. She yells into the microphone, “Can any of you imagine telling your mom—your Indian, set-in-her-ways mom—that there’s no way you can think about getting married? Because you think too much about everything? Your brain is so fried that even your vibrator isn’t doing it for you? I mean, hello?”
Bina gasps. Blood pounds in her ears. She turns off the video. Natasha talked about this in public? And now it’s online?!
When she looks up, Mona, Kavita, and Mira are standing a few feet away from her. A strained silence falls over all of them. Even though Bina appreciates that they’re doing their best to not react, their wringing hands and wide eyes give away how appalled they are.
“We should go,” Mona says.
But Bina doesn’t hear her or even notice them leaving a minute later. Rage flows through her, infiltrates all her organs. She picks up her own phone and considers hurling it across the room, letting it break. But she needs to watch the rest of the video. She needs to see how fully her daughter insisted on humiliating herself, all of them.
The front door creaks open. Bina doesn’t even look up or ask who is there. She hears the fridge door open, then close. Deepak shouldn’t be done with golf yet. Maybe Anuj is back from hanging out with his high school friends.
“Mom? Is your meeting over already?”
Bina’s ears perk up. “Suhani? What are you doing here?”
Suhani steps into the formal living room. She’s in a long blue-and-white tiered dress. Her eyes are red and sunken in, as though she hasn’t slept all night. Everyone always commented on how Suhani was a younger version of Bina, with the same large, almond-shaped eyes, delicate chin, and pointy nose. But Bina’s always thought of her daughter as more conventionally pretty, the type of pretty that people stop to admire. She also exercises and wears makeup, two things Bina rarely made time for even when she was in her thirties.
Bina is so thrown off by Suhani’s presence that she temporarily forgets about what she just saw. It’s only after Suhani moves closer to her that she sees the large black suitcase in the hallway.
“Why’d you bring that?”
“Oh, I’m going to stay here for a little bit,” Suhani says. “You know, Zack’s traveling for work and it gets boring being in the apartment by myself and all.”
“Isn’t your sister there?” Bina asks as she takes in a whiff of jasmine and tuberose from Suhani’s perfume.
“Yeah. She is.” For a second, Suhani seems to lose her composure. But then she stands up straighter. “I just needed a change of scenery.”
“Beta, are you okay?” Bina grips Suhani’s bony shoulder. “Is something wrong with you and Zack?”
“What?” Suhani asks. “No! Of course not.”
“Are you sure?” Bina presses.
Even though Suhani looks okay, Bina has to make sure. Whereas Natasha puts her wounds on display, Suhani keeps them folded inside herself.
Bina first learned this when she went to Suhani’s fifth-grade parent-teacher conference. Suhani’s teacher, Mrs. Lane, told Bina that Suhani struggled to finish reading assignments and kept to herself during recess. Bina was shocked. Suhani always told her school was “so much fun.” When she told Mrs. Lane this, the old, frizzy-haired woman shrugged and whispered in the most condescending tone, “Not all kids are meant to succeed. Sometimes it’s hard for parents to accept that.” Bina later cried in the parking lot and hated herself for not scolding the woman when she had the chance.
“Seriously, don’t worry.” Suhani smiles. “I should be asking you if you’re okay. Were you crying?”
“Ha! I should be.” Bina opens the link from Mira and tosses her phone toward Suhani. “You should see what Mira just sent me . . . and what everyone else is no doubt already watching in their cars.”
Suhani frowns with confusion. But then she starts the video. First she says, “What the heck . . .” then, “Oh my God,” then, “She said what?”
Bina can’t tell if Suhani is shocked, amused, or both.
“Can you believe her?” Bina asks. “The nerve? She puts me in her performance or whatever it is and then doesn’t even tell me? And I have to find out about it from Mira!”
“I really don’t even know what to say, Mom. But I guess at least she’s putting herself out there, right? This entire time, we were worried she wasn’t doing anything.”
“Putting herself out there? Is that what this garbage is called?!” Bina snatches her phone out of Suhani’s hand. She clicks on the tiny link at the top of the page. It takes her to another site. “Oh my God. There are more!”
“More? Really?” Suhani scoots next to her on the couch.
The next video is of Natasha on a windowsill. Atlanta’s skyline is behind her.
“That’s my apartment!” Suhani scrolls to the middle of the video.
“My sister’s a shrink, which means she’s intuitive about people.” Natasha strokes her chin in a forced contemplating pose that Suhani usually finds funny. “And she really is! She knows just when I’m starting to feel good about myself because that’s the exact moment she shows up and makes sure I hate myself again! It’s okay, it’s okay. I just remind myself about how uptight she is and how at the end of the day, I may not be as accomplished as her, but at least I don’t have to pull a stick out of my ass! You’ve gotta count the wins, people! Count. The. Wins!”
“Oh my God.”
Suhani falls back on the couch. “How could she say that? Why would she?”
“Because we let her get away with too much nonsense, that’s why,” Bina says as she clicks on another video, this one also taken against Suhani and Zack’s window.
“So, my family’s technically Hindu,” Natasha says. “I say ‘technically’ because I don’t really practice anything myself. But I can get on board with the reincarnation idea. And if I can choose who to come back as, I’d love to come back as God. But a God who can do some drugs, daydream, and still be worshipped. In other words, I want to come back as my brother.”
“Drugs? Anuj has tried drugs?!” Bina feels as though someone delivered a swift punch to her stomach. She wraps her hands around the phone until her nails make tiny half-moons in her palms.
“I don’t think that’s what’s most important right now,” Suhani says.
Bina wants to scream. But to her surprise, her voice is soft and low as she turns to Suhani. “Call her. Now.”
“Are you su—”
“NOW!” Bina says. “She’s been ignoring my calls for days and I know she’ll pick up if it’s you. And if she doesn’t, I’ll go to your apartment myself. But she will be hearing from me!”
Suhani nods and calls Natasha, who picks up in two rings.
“Hi!” Natasha says, oblivious. On her end, a man’s voice yells, “Jim! Tall Americano! Daryl! Grande cappuccino with extra foam.”
“Are you performing at a coffee shop?” Suhani asks.
“What? No. I’m, uh, well, I’m actually at Starbucks for my training.”
Bina starts to ask what training Natasha’s talking about, but Suhani holds up her hand as a gesture to stay quiet.
“Training?” Suhani asks.
“Yeah. I was going to tell you and Zack later tonight that I got a job at Starbucks. Since I’ll finally be making money again, I can afford to get my own place somewhere else. Probably somewhere shitty, but whatever.” Natasha pauses then adds, “I’m trying. I really am. It’s been hard to get so many rejections and not have anything to show for what I’m doing, but I do want to stand on my own.”
