A Group of One

by Rachna Gilmore

  I look straight at Naniji and smile.

  Okay, so she’s avoided the showdown this time.

  But sooner or later, the gloves will have to come off.

  CHAPTER 13

  I have it all arranged that I’ll spend the day with Jeff, showing him around the Byward Market and a few other places. But Dad corners me after breakfast with the glad tidings that I have to be back by one—he’s planned a family outing to Gatineau Park, and it’s not up for discussion.

  I’m furious, but when Dad acts the heavy, there’s nothing I can do. I know he and Mom cooked this up to get back at me for yesterday.

  I meet Jeff near the canal, by First Street, as we’d arranged.

  “What’s with you?” asks Jeff, as we walk along the canal. “You look kinda…” He peers at me. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  “No. It’s my stupid parents. I have to be back by one.”

  “Hey, we still have lots of time, it’s only ten-thirty. Come on, let’s enjoy what we’ve got.” He shakes my shoulder. “Och, she’s in a foul wee mood.”

  “Jeff!” I thump him.

  Then we’re both laughing and talking. I point out the sights as we head towards the market. The canal isn’t that impressive this time of year; they’ve just lowered the water level. I tell him how great it is to skate on in the winter, when it freezes.

  We go up the spiral stairs onto Wellington Street, and cross over. We peer over the gray stone wall by the Château Laurier at the row of locks down to the river. I point out the curving Museum of Civilization on the other side. I just love that view—it’s still amazing, even though the locks are dry.

  We head into the market, squeezing past the throngs. There are stalls piled with pumpkins, cabbages, broccoli. We always come here to buy the biggest pumpkins for Halloween.

  I take Jeff around to where the crafts are set up. I love the stall with the bright weavings and the little worry dolls from Guatemala. We stop and watch the last of the buskers, then get fries and a drink. Jeff wants to pay, which sort of makes me turn red, but I insist on paying half. I feel relaxed and happy. It’s so great being here with Jeff—Mom and Dad are just interested in vegetables.

  Then Jeff looks at his watch. “It’s twelve-ten. We’d better head home.”

  My shoulders tense.

  “What’s the hurry?” It’s about a forty-minute walk, taking it easy. I plan on being about ten minutes late—not enough to get into real trouble, just enough to show them who’s boss. Gatineau Park. Give me a break!

  Jeff nudges me. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. I just don’t want to go back yet.”

  “Hey, I didn’t think I’d see you at all this weekend. When my grandfather visits I’m expected to hang around. Mind you, I want to.”

  “Yeah, well, I just had to get out of there.”

  Jeff looks puzzled.

  I sigh. Erin didn’t understand; Jeff probably won’t, either, he thinks his grandfather is terrific.

  “What’s eating you, Tara?”

  “Nothing. It’s just she’s…” How do I describe the exaggerated politeness, the distortion—becoming an Indian family?

  All of a sudden it hits me. Brainwave. Why didn’t I think of it before? Yes! It’s way better than being late.

  I say brightly, “Okay, so let’s go back. We can hang around my house.”

  Jeff frowns. “Won’t your family mind? Your grandmother just got here.”

  “Of course not. Come on, she’d love to meet you. Hey, move it, or we won’t have time.”

  “You sure about this?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. Down here, it’s the quickest way.”

  I am a genius! Naniji’ll probably have a cow. Mom and Dad’ll have two cows.

  I lengthen my stride and we get back at twenty to one. Jeff hesitates as I start up the driveway.

  “Hey, look, I don’t know if—”

  “Oh, Jeff, stop being such a wuss. My life isn’t going to stop just because she’s here. Anyway, Mom’s pining to hear your Scottish accent.”

  Jeff grins and slowly follows me inside.

  Voices from the kitchen. My heart beats faster as I tug Jeff along by the sleeve. Everyone’s sitting around the kitchen table.

  “Hi, I’m back.” I keep my hand on Jeff’s arm long enough for all to see.

  Mom turns. “Oh, you’re early, Tara, good.…” Then she sees Jeff. There’s only the tiniest pause before she says in her most mature I-never-do-accents voice, “Hello, Jeff, nice to see you again.”

  Nina smirks at me, but I ignore her.

  “Hi, Jeff,” shouts Maya.

  Dad has a dead-codfish smile. Beautiful, just beautiful!

  “Jeff, this is my grandmother.” How’s she taking it?

  Her eyes swivel from Jeff to me, to Mom and Dad, then back to Jeff. “Hello, Jeff. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She shakes his hand. Smooth. A gracious smile.

  No horror or dismay.

  Damn.

  “Jeff, see the earrings Naniji gave me? And my bangles?” says Maya.

  Jeff smiles. “They’re lovely, Maya.”

  “No, they’re not lovely,” says Maya, twisting her bangles around and around. “They’re ex-quis-ite.”

  “Yes, they’re exquisite, Maya.” We just stand there for a few seconds, no one saying anything.

  Jeff fidgets. “Well, I guess I’d better get going.”

  “Hey, don’t be silly,” I say, too loudly. “Let’s go hang out in my room.”

  And I get Naniji with that one—she twitches visibly. Jeff turns fiery red.

  Mom says hurriedly, “No, no. Join us.”

  Dad pulls out a couple of chairs and insists, “Please.”

  “Come on, Jeff.” I sit down next to him.

  Naniji breaks the silence. “So where did you two go this morning?”

  “Er, Tara showed me around the Byward Market.”

  “We’ll have to take you there sometime, Mummyji,” says Dad. “It’s one of the landmarks of Ottawa.”

  “I’d like that.” Naniji smiles blandly.

  Another pause.

  Mom and Naniji start to speak at once.

  “After you, Mummyji,” says Mom.

  “I was just going to ask Jeff what kind of market it is.”

  Jeff says, “I don’t know … a regular market, I guess.”

  Mom says, “Oh, it’s not like markets in India, it’s a mixture of fruits and vegetables, and some crafts, too. A lot of touristy stuff.” She rushes on, “In India, you see, there are markets for different things—isn’t that right, Mummyji?”

  “Yes, in Dilli we have a fish market, another one for vegetables, even one for scrap and junk.”

  “Hey, cool,” says Nina.

  Naniji smiles. “Yes, and one called Chor Bazaar, which means ‘thieves’ market.’ Of course, they aren’t all thieves; it’s just things are cheap there, and people say the goods are stolen. You have to watch out for pickpockets.”

  “Wow!” says Nina. “I’d really like to go there sometime.”

  She’s such a suck-up!

  “Me, too,” says Maya.

  Naniji’s face is wooden.

  “Hey, how come we’ve never been there?” asks Nina disgruntedly.

  Drop-dead silence.

  Dad says, “Well, you know, the cost for five people…”

  Mom says, “Of course, India is a fascinating country, but for anyone brought up in the west, it is a culture shock. One has to be careful; the things one takes for granted here, like transportation, safety, and so forth—well, they’re different in India.”

  Naniji flushes. “Millions of people manage to live there.”

  “Exactly. Millions and millions,” says Mom with a smile.

  Dad charges in, “The problem is the girls’ schools—they don’t have long enough breaks over Christmas, and the summers are too hot in India. But maybe sometime…”

  Naniji looks like she’s trying to igno
re a bad smell.

  Normy waddles into the room, purrs, and arches against Jeff. He bends down and picks her up, like he’s relieved to be doing something.

  Naniji gathers herself and says, “I can see you like animals, Jeff. Do you have a cat of your own?”

  “No, er, I don’t. My father has allergies, but, yeah, I love animals.” Pause. “Er, do you have pets?”

  “No. My husband and I used to have a dog, but she died ages ago.”

  Jeff tickles Normy, then puts her down gently. He gets up with an air of finality. “I really have to go now. Nice to see you again, Ms. Mehta. And you too, Mr. Mehta. It was nice to meet you, er, Ms. Mehta.”

  “Bye, Jeff,” shouts Maya.

  I walk Jeff down the driveway. He’s quiet.

  “So—see ya tomorrow in school, Jeff.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t look at me.

  I dig him with my elbow, say overheartily, “Hey, what’s with you?”

  He lets out a huge breath. “In there. Whoa! It was kind of…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know—charged.”

  “Yeah. Wasn’t it just.” I grin.

  Jeff turns to look at me. “Did you…?” His eyes narrow.

  My smile fades. “What?”

  “You knew. That, that—it was going to be like…”

  “What?” It sounds shrill even to me.

  Jeff’s face is sort of pinched.

  “I just wanted you to meet my grandmother,” I say, not very convincingly.

  “Uh-huh. That would explain the bit about hanging out in your room.”

  I bite my lip.

  Jeff hesitates, then says slowly, “I don’t know what your game was, Tara, but it didn’t feel too great.”

  “Hey, come on, don’t spaz, I was just…”

  “Yeah, whatever. Hope you had fun. Bye, Tara.” He takes off. He doesn’t look back.

  My head buzzes.

  As I go inside, Mom calls out, coldly, “Tara?” She knows what bringing Jeff here was about. “We’re leaving in half an hour. Please wear your sneakers. We’ll be walking around some trails.”

  I grab the cordless phone from the hall table and go upstairs to my room. What on earth happened with Jeff? I mean, what happened?

  I call Erin and tell her about it.

  There’s a long silence, then she says, “Oh boy.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think he’d freak.”

  “You didn’t think he’d…” She starts to laugh.

  “What?”

  “Hey, come on, it was kind of…”

  “What?” I know I sound defensive, but I can’t help it.

  “Look, Tara … it was kind of mean. Think about it. If you were at his house…”

  “Well, I think he overreacted. Big-time.”

  Erin murmurs, “Pigheaded, pigheaded!”

  “Oh, shut up, Erin.”

  “Well, what did you expect him to do?”

  “Whaddya mean, what did I expect?”

  “Whaddya mean, whaddo I mean? Stop with the stupid comedy routine.”

  I sputter, “I just … I never thought he’d…”

  Erin says dryly, “What? Catch on?”

  “No-oo.” I sigh heavily. “It’s just, he’s the one who loves to hang out with my family.”

  “Okay, she doesn’t want to face it!”

  “Oh, piss off, Erin.” This time my voice is sharp.

  “Piss off yourself.” She’s starting to sound annoyed. “Don’t take your guilt out on me.”

  “I don’t feel guilty. Why should I? And who the hell’s side are you on, anyway?”

  “Look, it’s not about sides. We’re supposed to be straight with each other, and you’re the one giving me attitude, so why the hell should I—”

  “Thanks, Erin. For being so understanding. Thanks a million.” I press the end button and fling the phone on my bed.

  My hands are trembling. It’s just from gripping the phone so hard, that’s all.

  CHAPTER 14

  I stare fixedly out the window as we drive to Gatineau Park. No one bothers to talk to me, except Nina. I snap at her, and Mom and Dad turn around and glare at me; but when Nina says, “Jeez, some grouch,” no one says anything to her.

  When we pull into the Lake Mulvihill parking lot, I jump out, chin in the air. I stride ahead on the trail, savagely kicking piles of leaves, while they follow behind in a happy little bunch, gushing about the wonderful, beautiful colors.

  It’s the crappiest afternoon. I keep to myself as much as I can, and as soon as we get back home, I disappear into my room, with homework as an excuse.

  But I stare at the same math problem for nearly an hour. Should I call Erin?

  I don’t.

  Nobody bothers to talk to me at dinnertime, not even Nina. I eat quickly, then excuse myself. I try my math again, give up, and play my violin for a bit—funny, I’m so used to playing, it’s actually a release.

  At bedtime, Mom knocks on my door before coming in. “Tara-My-Stara.” She sighs. “Do stop feeling sorry for yourself, love. It isn’t so bad, is it?” She touches my cheek briefly. “You always were a fierce and stubborn little thing.”

  I scorch her with my glare.

  When I wake up the next morning, I feel tired and unhappy and—lost? I shake myself. Of course I don’t feel lost. I dress quickly and bring a bowl of cereal up to my room.

  I pack my bag for school and hang around, waiting for Erin. I leave as late as I can, but she still doesn’t come. Guess she needs more time to cool off.

  As I open the front door, Mom stops me and wraps her arms around me. She says awkwardly, “I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day, love.”

  My throat tightens. I manage, “It’s okay, I’m sorry, too.”

  Mom’s hand smooths my back. “Want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head. “Nah, I’ve got to get going.”

  Mom sighs. “All right, kiddo. Have a good day.” As I go down the driveway, she calls out, “By the way, I may be late getting home today, okay?”

  I nod and stride towards school. Maybe I’ll see Erin at the lockers. But there’s barely time to get my stuff before the bell goes, and still no Erin. Or Jeff. I don’t have any classes with Erin today, but I’ll see her at lunchtime, and there’s history with Jeff.

  I smile hard as I join the crowd at lunchtime. Maybe I’ll get Erin out for a walk, and we’ll … get back to normal. Everyone’s there, Nadia, Louise, everyone—except Erin. My stomach sinks. It wasn’t that bad a fight—Erin’s got a temper, okay, we both have, but we always make up. Then Nadia says something about Erin helping Ms. Gelder with the drama props, but—what if she’s avoiding me?

  My head’s starting to throb by the time I go to my history class. I get there early and sit up front. I don’t mean to watch, but my eyes keep swiveling towards the door. But Jeff still isn’t there by the time Tolly arrives. I’m not sure if I’m more relieved or disappointed.

  Tolly perches up front in his usual storklike posture, one leg on the chair, his bushy eyebrows flying. He drones on and on about how history changes depending on who is telling it, and he reminds us about the assignment he gave us last week.

  We’re supposed to write an account of a personal life, tied to a moment of historical significance. It’s so dumb—ask our parents what they were doing when Trudeau became prime minister, or when JFK was assassinated, or where our grandparents were during the war. Any event in world history, not just Canadian. Talk to family members. They know about living history. He looks at Trev, whose family had to leave Uganda. Oh, please. It’s always about kids who look different, isn’t it?

  Naturally, the way my day’s going, I get stuck to present on the first day, along with Guy and a few others. It’s due Thursday, for God’s sake—that’s just three days away; what the heck am I going to do?

  At the end of the day, when I get to my locker, there’s no sign of Erin. Okay, so she’s often late, but there’s no wa
y I’m waiting around like I did this morning. Obviously, Erin is way less mature than I thought. My head hurts and, boy, am I sick of smiling.

  I walk home fast. As I turn down my driveway, I smell Indian food. Erin would shove her way in, of course, if she was here. Yeah, well, her loss.

  I open the front door.

  Naniji comes out of the kitchen. The smooth smile, tidy, contained. And wary. “Hello, Tara,” she says, stiffly. “How was school?”

  “Fine, thanks. Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s still at work. She said this morning that she’d be late.”

  I forgot.

  Naniji says, “I made a small after-school snack. Samosas. Come and have some.”

  Damn. I love samosas.

  Maya comes running to hug me. “Hi, Tara. The samosas are dee-licious.” At least somebody cares. I hug her back.

  Naniji says, “Come into the kitchen, there’s plenty. I made lots, thinking you might bring some friends home.”

  My back prickles. I don’t need her inviting me to sit in my own kitchen. “I’m not hungry, thank you. Anyway, I’d better do my homework.”

  “My, you certainly are conscientious,” says Naniji.

  I look at her sharply, then shrug and head upstairs.

  “Hi, Tara,” calls Nina as I’m halfway up. “The samosas are really great.”

  I smile weakly, shut my door behind me, and flop onto the bed. Alone at last. Deep breaths. I am not going to cry. Everything’s fine, just fine.

  It’s just, the house feels weird without Mom. Too quiet. And, okay, lately I’ve had to babysit Maya way too often, and it’s not like I love it or anything, but—I’m supposed to be in charge when Mom’s not around, not her. And why’s Mom still at work? She said she could work her own hours, and from home. I bet she’s avoiding Naniji.

  The phone rings.

  “Tara,” Nina bellows. “It’s for you. I’ll bring it up.”

  I sit up as Nina comes in and hands me the cordless phone.

  “Thanks,” I say gruffly.

  “You’re welcome.” Nina hesitates, then reaches out and pats my arm.

  My throat tightens and I hug her before she runs downstairs.

  I put the receiver to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s me.” Erin’s voice is uncertain.