Hot in the City

by Jules Court

  Her auntie met her at the door, worry in her dark eyes. “Is my daughter with you?” she asked. “I’ve been calling, but she won’t pick up. So ungrateful, that girl.”

  Priya merely shook her head in response. Auntie Avani widened the door and Priya stepped through into the small house.

  Inside, whirring fans circulated the aroma of cinnamon and cloves. On the far wall above the couch hung a family portrait of her aunt and a baby Sara with Sara’s father, Stephen Murphy. He’d passed away when Sara and Priya were still in diapers, so Priya had no real memory of him, but she’d always thought Sara must have inherited something of his personality. Even in a static picture, he gave the impression of barely contained energy.

  “What was it like marrying a white man back then?” she asked her aunt. “Was it accepted?”

  She pinned Priya with a narrowed gaze. “Why do you ask?”

  Priya looked away. “No reason.” She plucked the tassels on a throw pillow. “I’ve never brought home a white guy.” No one but Sara had ever known about Justin and Sara never told. “Things are supposed to be different now, but I wonder if they actually are.”

  Auntie Avani shrugged. “There are always those who would judge others. It does not matter the reason.”

  “Like my father?”

  “It is no secret that he did not want his only sister to marry a white man. But he came around. He had no choice.” She looked past Priya to where the portrait hung. Her smile was tinged with sadness. “Stephen was my world.”

  And Sara never even had a chance to know him. Sara, who was out there in trouble while Priya was obsessing over a man. “When was the last time you talked to Sara?”

  “Is she in trouble again?” Her auntie bustled past her to straighten the couch cushions. But even as she beckoned to Priya to sit down, she didn’t stop talking. “That girl. Why can’t she be more like you? You’re such a good girl and never give your mother any problem. My blood pressure is too high. The doctor wants to put me on medication and it’s all because of that girl. The only thing your mother has to worry about is when you’re going to meet a nice man and give us some babies to fuss over.”

  “I’m not that good, Auntie. And Sara isn’t that bad. She’s done a lot for me.” She should tell her how much. And that Priya was a fraud. And beneath her good grades and home before curfew veneer, she’d been a very, very bad girl. And Sara had paid for it.

  “I just wish she would stay out of trouble,” her aunt continued. “Maybe get an education, a stable job, a husband...”

  “Sara’s got a big heart.” Unlike Priya. Priya might look better on paper, but Sara had always been the better of them. Her aunt had a right to know. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words remained stuck in her throat.

  Her aunt gave her a sly look. “I saw Manoosh’s parents at the Stop and Shop. Such a nice young man he’s grown into. He’s working as a mechanical engineer, you know. I should invite his family to dinner.”

  Manoosh was a fine young man. They’d gone to different schools, but Boston’s Indian community was small enough that their paths had crossed often enough. He probably was an excellent boyfriend—Manoosh’s boyfriend certainly seemed happy the time she’d met him. But it was likely that Manoosh wasn’t out of the closet with the older, more conservative folks, so Priya simply nodded. It wasn’t her place to out him.

  Auntie Avani clucked her tongue. “You look worn out,” she said. “Rest and I’ll bring you some tea.”

  “I’m fine. Let me help you with dinner.”

  But her aunt ignored her words and bustled off to the kitchen. Priya drifted over and sank down onto the sofa. She allowed her head to fall back against the cushions and closed her eyes. She might have even dozed off because the sound of the front door opening jerked her head up.

  Her parents entered with her older brother and his fiancée in tow. She pushed herself off the couch to greet them. A quick exchange of hugs and kisses—she whirled from her mother’s soft embrace to the rough peck on the cheek from her father to her brother’s half hug slash back pat. Mita, her brother’s fiancée, greeted her with a shy smile and a gentle squeeze of her hand.

  If her family really knew her, would she lose this warmth? Their approval would definitely become a relic of the past. All she’d ever wanted to do was please her parents. Not because she’d feared them, but because she loved them too well.

  But the day she’d watched, crouching in some bushes, heart pounding her chest, while Sara was handcuffed and stuffed in the backseat of a police cruiser, the final brick in the wall separating her from her family was laid. It was a wall created from lies. She’d forged the first brick when Justin convinced her to cut class so they could make out behind the gym. The next when she’d forged her mother’s name on the detention slip it’d earned her. She’d rationalized her forgery away. It was her senior year. She’d already been accepted to the school of her choice, so one detention wouldn’t matter now. Why bother her parents with it?

  And from there, she’d continued stacking the bricks higher and higher until her wall was complete. The wall that separated who she truly was from who she pretended to be.

  And it was lonely on this side.

  “Are you taking care of yourself, Priya?” her mother asked. “You look run down.”

  “I’m fine,” she said automatically.

  Her mother gave her a critical look. “You look darker. You need to wear sunscreen. You’re not as fair as your cousin.”

  Priya’s father chimed in. “Stop fussing, Devi,” he told her mother. “Your daughter is a grown woman.” He dropped a kiss on the top of Priya’s head, just as he’d always done when she was a little girl.

  Her throat tightened. Thankfully, her aunt spoke, drawing her parents’ attention away from her and giving her a chance to compose herself.

  “It is too hot to cook,” Auntie Avani declared. “I’m ordering Chinese food.”

  Amongst the flurry of demands for vegetable fried rice and spring rolls, questions of whether extra rice for the sweet and sour tofu was really necessary, and the brief debate about MSG that broke out between her brother and aunt, Priya remained as silent and still as stone. A part of yet always apart from the family that surrounded her.

  * * *

  It was seven o’clock when Brian rang the doorbell of the little white house with black shutters, but the August sun still rode high in the sky. Sunset wouldn’t happen for at least another hour. The rosebushes in the front yard had wilted from the heat. He knew how they felt even though it wasn’t the heat alone making him droop. He’d rather be getting his prostate checked than be here, about to tell a single mother that her daughter had disappeared. And that she could be the target of some very bad men.

  But an interview with Mrs. Murphy was way overdue. He’d put it off for too long because of Priya. She’d wanted to shield her family and he’d wanted to make her happy. Because he was a sap.

  He rocked back and forth on his heels. When the door opened he automatically launched into his speech. “Hi, I’m Detective Bri—Priya?”

  She slapped her hand over his mouth. “Shhh.”

  He resisted the urge to give her fingers a little nip, but she must have read his intentions because she quickly snatched her hand back.

  A woman’s voice called out, “Who is it, Priya?”

  She gave him a desperate look. “Just play along,” she said. “No one,” she called back. “Just a...friend. I forgot my phone and he stopped by to drop it off.”

  “Invite him in for dinner.”

  He gave Priya a Cheshire Cat grin. “Yes, invite me in for dinner.”

  She lowered her voice. “They don’t know Sara’s missing.”

  He folded his arms across his chest.

  “We don’t know that she’s not okay,” she said defensively. �
�It would just upset them.”

  “So you’re covering for her.”

  “I have to.”

  “Don’t you think they have the right to know?”

  The door opened wider and a woman whose dark hair was streaked with white appeared next to Priya. “Won’t you come in for dinner?” she asked. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” She gave Priya an epic side-eye. “My niece doesn’t always keep us informed on her life.”

  “Brian MacGregor, ma’am,” he said. “And I would love to stay for dinner.” He needed to inform Sara’s family, even if it meant Priya would hate him. It was the right thing to do.

  Priya’s eyes narrowed, but she kept her mouth shut.

  The house smelled wonderful. Curry and cinnamon and something else he couldn’t identify. His stomach growled. At his desk he’d wolfed down some stale Pop-Tarts from the vending machine, but that had been at least six hours ago.

  Priya trailed him as he followed Mrs. Murphy through the small living room and into the kitchen. At the table sat an older man and woman—Priya’s parents, most likely—and a man who must be her brother, along with another woman in her mid to late twenties.

  All heads snapped up at his entrance.

  Priya moved to stand beside him and gave a wave encompassing the table. “Brian, these are my parents Devi and Viraj Shah; my brother, Sunil; and his fiancée, Mita.”

  He gave a nod to the four sets of inquisitive eyes staring back at him feeling the urge to straighten his nonexistent tie.

  “This is Priya’s friend, Brian,” Mrs. Murphy said with so much emphasis on “friend” that she might as well have winked. “Let me get another plate. Sit. Sit down.” She shooed him toward an empty chair. The table was festooned with Chinese takeout containers. “It’s too hot to cook. Sit. Eat,” she ordered Priya, who sank in the chair next to him.

  He gave Priya’s knee a little reassuring nudge with his own. She pushed back harder. Despite the grim news he needed to share, he couldn’t help but smile. Until he looked up and right into the disapproving face of Priya’s father.

  Viraj said, “We are vegetarian, so you won’t find any meat.”

  “That’s all right,” he said. “This looks great.”

  “So, what do you do, Brian?” Viraj asked with a look that would make most police detectives weep with jealousy to possess. A perp on the receiving end of that stare would immediately confess to everything, including cheating on his fourth-grade spelling test.

  “I’m a police officer.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” Devi asked. Priya had the same oval shape to her face and the same bone structure. But Priya’s mouth was wider, her lips fuller.

  “Occasionally,” he said. “There’s always the risk of paper cuts. Way too many reports to fill out.”

  “How did you meet our Priya?” she asked.

  “I stitched him up in the emergency room,” Priya said.

  Devi looked horrified, and Viraj’s mouth narrowed into a thin line.

  “She did a great job,” Brian said quickly. “I barely have a scar.” He hesitated for a moment. Best to get this over with. “But I actually met her again because I’m—”

  “Vegetable lo mein?” Priya interrupted. She scooped noodles onto his plate without waiting for answer.

  “That’s enough, thanks,” he said as she continued to pile food on his plate.

  “Priya, have you decided on which fellowships you’re going to apply for?” Viraj asked. “You know my friend Dr. Bishop is the head of cardiology at Tufts Medical Center. He’s offered multiple times to meet with you to talk about picking a specialty. You’re not locked into emergency medicine just because you’re doing your residency in the ER.”

  “Yes, you should talk to him,” Devi said. “I don’t know why you chose the ER. It’s so dangerous with the junkies coming in to score drugs and the criminals getting shot, and the crazy people who haven’t taken their medicine. One of these days you’re going to get attacked. It makes me worry.”

  Priya shifted in her seat. “Mom, you need to stop watching ER reruns. I’m not going to be attacked by a deranged patient.” The tone of her voice suggested this was a longstanding argument.

  “Don’t talk to your mother like that,” Viraj said. “You’re being rude in front of your guest.” Although the words were harsh, his tone was mild, more of a reminder than an actual rebuke.

  But Priya ducked her head as though she’d been chewed out. In Brian’s family, that wouldn’t have even registered. It wasn’t a fight until furniture got smashed. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Strange. She hadn’t backed down at all with him. He hadn’t thought her the easily quashed type. In an attempt to pave over the sudden awkwardness, he said, “You should see my family. We’re all redheads—quick tempers, but it usually blows over fast.” But it was a dumb impulse, because he wasn’t here for a social call. “Actually,” he said, “I really need to ask—”

  Before he could finish the question, he was cut off. Priya turned toward her brother. “So, Sunil, tell me about your latest project,” she said with an alarming cheeriness.

  Sunil raised an eyebrow. “It’s a prosthetic limb. You know that. We talked about it last week.”

  “Sunil is a biotech engineer,” Priya said to Brian. “He’s working on using 3D printing to create artificial limbs.” Her voice picked up speed as she kept talking. “My father is also an engineer, but works with computer chips. My mother’s a patent lawyer. And Mita is working on her Ph.D. in environmental chemistry at MIT.”

  Obviously she was trying to prevent him from speaking and playing Name the Profession didn’t have any deeper meaning. But he was starting to feel a real kinship with the missing Sara. He’d framed the degree he’d finally managed to earn doing night classes at Suffolk. It was a rag compared to this family’s credentials. As far as he could tell from her record, Sara hadn’t even graduated high school.

  “Priya, I have to tell them,” he said as gently as he could despite his growing frustration.

  She swung her head in an emphatic “no.”

  “You can’t protect them from the truth,” he said. Her reluctance to inform the family of Sara’s disappearance was turning almost pathological.

  “You don’t know what the truth is,” she said.

  “What is he talking about, Priya?” Viraj asked.

  He pulled away from Priya’s pleading eyes to meet her father’s gaze. “I’m afraid I’m here under false pretenses,” he said. “I came to ask about Sara.”

  “What about Sara?” Mrs. Murphy asked.

  He looked around the table. “When was the last time any of you saw her?”

  “What has she done now?” Mrs. Murphy asked in a way that said she was no stranger to the greatest hits of Sara Murphy’s police record.

  “She hasn’t done anything,” Priya said. “Why do you always assume she did something bad?”

  “Priya, don’t talk to your aunt that way,” Devi said.

  “What is this about?” Viraj asked him.

  He was almost beginning to feel sorry for Sara the way her family automatically leapt to the worst conclusion. Almost. He reminded himself that, no matter what her cousin though, Sara had set her family’s expectations low with her own actions.

  “She may have witnessed a murder,” he said, even though he could have just fobbed them off with “wanted for routine questioning.” He wasn’t defending Sara, merely ensuring her family was motivated to divulge her whereabouts. “It’s imperative that we find her. She could be in danger.”

  Stunned silence greeted his pronouncement until Mrs. Murphy shattered it with a wail. And then everyone began speaking at once in a chorus of “what’s going on” and “Priya, what is he talking about?”

  Viraj’s stern voice split through t
he chaos. “Priya, you knew this yet you said nothing?” he demanded. He held a hand up in a demand for silence from everyone else. The table quieted.

  Priya’s voice was very small. “You didn’t need to know,” she said.

  “That wasn’t your decision to make. What else have you been protecting her from?”

  “I haven’t been.”

  “Priya—”

  “She’s been protecting me. Why do you always assume that she’s the one who’s done something wrong? This is my fault.”

  Devi broke in with the question Brian was thinking. “How is this your fault?” she asked.

  “Because if she’d never gone to juvie then maybe she would have finished school. She wouldn’t keep getting mixed up with a bad crowd.” Guilt dripped from every word.

  Sunil looked at his sister with confusion, while quiet Mita kept her eyes glued to her plate. “You didn’t have any responsibility for that, Priya. You know no one can stop Sara when she wants to do something stupid,” he said.

  “Maybe she wasn’t the stupid one. I was!”

  Brian found himself practically holding his breath. There was something beyond simple love of her cousin driving Priya so hard. Something even her own family didn’t know about.

  “Priya, calm down. You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” Devi said.

  “I’m sorry, officer. My daughter isn’t usually like this,” Viraj added.

  “How would you know? You don’t know me,” Priya said.

  “Priya, why are you acting like a teenager?” Viraj asked.

  “Because I was the one who set fire to that car. She was covering for me. This is my fault. This is all my fault.”

  Priya leapt up, knocking her chair over. She ran from the room.

  “I’m sorry,” Brian said to the table at large before bolting after her.

  He caught up with her outside the house, where she sat on the front steps. “Well, that was a meet the parents to tell our kids about,” he said.

  She didn’t rise to his bait. Instead, she hunched her shoulders forward.