“No, I don’t. It’s just me.”
“I have a younger sister—”
“Nandita,” Claire interrupted.
“Of course. We have spoken of her.”
The waiter arrived then, and Claire placed their order. She was going to order a cappuccino, but she changed her mind at the last minute; an espresso would wake them both up with more efficiency. The waiter bustled off and Claire turned to Satish. “Nandita?” He looked as though he were holding his breath. He was obviously deciding if he wanted to go on, so she pushed him a little. “It might do you good to talk about it, Satish, if it's upsetting you.”
He put down his silverware, faced her, and took a deep breath. “She is to be married.”
Claire waited, but he didn’t say anything else. “Congratulations. Is that a problem?”
“The problem is that she is to marry someone she doesn’t want to and break another man’s heart.”
“Why would she marry someone she doesn’t want to?”
He opened his mouth to reply, and then he didn’t stop talking. He told Claire about his father, the Indian culture, his boarding school education, and saving fiercely for his sisters’ dowries. He told her how much he cared for Nandita and how she was rebelling against tradition and her family. She wanted to marry her Sachin and get a forbidden education. He told her of his father’s anger and how he had tried to steer Nandita back to the safe path. Satish said he was afraid he had lost Nandita forever by coming on so strong and immoveable, and that he didn’t know how to respond to his father.
During this torrent of words, it was all Claire could do to stop herself from standing and moving to wrap her arms around him. She was right when she had felt he was lonely—of course he was! He had spent his whole life being lonely from the age of seven, when he was only a baby. When her mother had died, she was sixteen, and even with her dad smothering her with attention, she had still been desperately lonely. She had spent the next year trying to make deals with God to let her up to Heaven just to see her. She couldn’t imagine being alone and with such a huge responsibility from such a young age. She listened and learned that Satish was an amazing man who had lived an entirely selfless life dedicated to taking care of his family and fulfilling his duty. It was no wonder he was so worried about his sister: she was more important to him than himself.
The frittata came and they ate through his monologue. The croissants had just appeared in front of them when he took a deep breath and stopped. They chewed the flaky pastry in silence for a few minutes until Satish glanced at his watch and looked at her in alarm.
“I have to leave for my 10:00 am meeting. I am so sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry about talking so much. I should not have burdened you with my problems. You were right, though: it felt exceptionally good just to talk about it.”
“Of course it did,” Claire said. “I am stunned you kept all of it inside for even five minutes. You didn’t burden me at all, though. I am going to spend some time thinking about it, and then maybe we could talk some more. Why don’t you call me tonight at home?”
Satish looked scandalized and Claire almost giggled. “Oh, no. No, I couldn’t do that. I don’t get home until very late. I couldn’t disturb you at home.”
“You won’t be, Satish,” Claire said. “I’ll be up late revising the draft with the feedback you are going to give me.” She pulled the BRD from her bag and handed it to him as he was pulling on his jacket. “Besides, I don’t have a sister, but I do have a roommate. She won’t be home tonight, so it will be quiet.”
“Well, I suppose I could give you a quick call and let you know if I have heard from her. Perhaps you could assist me in thinking of something I could write to her that would express my apologies, yet encourage her to be obedient.”
“Obedient?” Claire grinned, “You had better call me tonight. We have a lot to talk about.”
14
Satish
Satish couldn’t shut down his brain. These were new thoughts for him, and some were a little distressing. He looked at his bedside clock: 4:30 am. He had been lying wide awake for an hour. He had called Claire at 11:00 without intending it. After he had left the restaurant, he chided himself for being so forthright and intimate with a work acquaintance. Part of him, however, knew that Claire was becoming more than that. This morning had changed everything.
He had never spoken in detail about his family to anyone before. Sure, he had made small talk with others and referenced his family, but to discuss feelings and relationships was new. There was something about Claire. Satish was drawn to her drive and independence, and it reminded him of Nandita. Her confidence was attractive and her outspokenness made him laugh. It was her obvious concern for others—for him—that put him over the edge, though.
He had never had anyone worry about him before, except for his sisters, who were thousands of miles away. Even then, his sisters seemed more concerned about their problems than his, including Nandita. He supposed that was his fault, since he put a concerted effort into projecting strength and self-sufficiency. It was his duty to be a pillar for his family; expressing any weakness or doubt would shake the family foundation. Claire was different, though, and even as he had tried to project distance and strength, she had seen through him. She’d asked questions about his personal feelings and she cared about the answer. She didn’t need him to be strong, because she didn’t need him. It was liberating that a person could care about him while not needing him to be selfless. Anything he did for Claire, he would do purely as a personal choice and not out of a sense of duty. There were those words again: “choice” and “duty.” They had become the crux of a four-hour conversation with Claire.
“Here’s the thing,” she had said when she answered the phone. Either she was psychic, or she had call waiting. “You want Nandita to marry Naveen because it’s her duty, right? You want her to be obedient.” She said the word with extreme distaste. “What I have been struggling with all day, however, is does duty outlaw choice? I mean, my dad has a duty to the Navy and his country, and he would never ever think of defying that duty, but he still had a choice. He knew all the positives and negatives of the situation, he weighed them carefully, and he chose to join the Navy.”
“Don’t you think that choice is sometimes selfish?” Satish had asked. He had taken his phone and coffee into his office, and despite having told himself repeatedly that he would not call her this evening, he had dialed her phone number, which had been hastily scrawled on an Il Roma napkin, before he had even put his briefcase down. His housekeeper must have come late tonight, because the apartment smelled not like Pine-Sol, but like richly-brewed coffee. There was a full Thermos waiting for him with a smiley face on a Post-it note stuck to it. He could never fire her.
“It can be, Satish,” Claire answered. “It can be selfish, if given to the wrong person, but do you think Nandita is a selfish person? I mean, even you have made a choice, right? You got your education from your father, you finished university, and you chose to continue to save for your sisters and provide for your family. You could have made the selfish choice and said, ‘Thanks, Dad, but I’ll take it from here—good luck with the dowries,’ but you didn’t! Maybe you should trust Nandita to make her own choice.”
Claire had put a lot of thought into his situation. Lying in bed now, he wondered if she had been sitting up, waiting for him to call, and that’s why she had answered the phone in the manner she did. He felt an unfamiliar rush of emotion.
He had responded quickly, “Nandita has responsibilities to the family, though. The marriage that my father has arranged will have tremendous benefits to the business arrangements he is trying to establish. Nandita has to consider others.”
“Okay, fine, but since when did the self get cast by the wayside?” Claire sounded a bit heated. “Consider others by all means, but add yourself and your happiness into the equation! I’m not saying you should be selfish and make decisions entirely for yourself and ignore everything el
se, but weigh yourself as equally as others when you are considering the impact to all involved. Is a person expected to ultimately sacrifice their own happiness? Don’t throw away culture and tradition, but make room for a little self-fulfillment.
“If that means you choose to marry someone your parents have chosen for you, because that is the way you have been raised, you believe it is right, and it makes you happy, then great. I know arranged marriages work well for a lot of people. What about those people who know it wouldn’t make them happy, though? What about this boy, Sachin, who is head over heels in love with Nandita? Should she just stamp all over his heart, as well?”
“That was her mistake.” Satish had felt a little angry, but wasn’t sure why. “She should not have encouraged him or gave him hope that they had a future. She knew she was bound to someone else.”
Claire’s voice had gone soft. “I think that’s the thing about love, Satish: you can’t always control how it happens—sometimes it just does.”
At that point, Satish had decided to change the subject. He had leaned back in his leather chair, and, in a wild and crazy moment, stretched his legs out and propped his feet up on his giant, cherry desk. Had he been caught doing that at boarding school, he would have been punished, but this was his house and his desk.
He asked Claire what would make her self-fulfilled, and she had said it would be life with her family: her dad, hopefully a husband and children, and satisfying work. She had talked about her boutique—about designing and sewing for a living, and she spoke of her love for beautiful fabrics and the act of creation—both the creation of the object of clothing, itself, as well as the creation she witnessed within a person when they tried on something beautiful.
“I like to give people things that make them who they truly are. It’s amazing that a piece of silk can do that, but I have seen it so many times.”
Her obvious passion for her work impressed him and reminded him of how he felt about his own. He knew he was lucky that he loved what he did, and he was dreading the day his father would call him back to India to take over the business. He could not imagine doing any work other than what he did now. It was amazing how well Claire was doing in the business analyst role, considering she had no passion for it, and he once again felt admiration for her drive and commitment.
They had returned to the subject of Nandita, and Claire told Satish that he had to make up his mind. If he truly believed that his sister should give up her happiness for duty, then he should continue to push her. If he felt that she should have a choice, though, then he should do something about it.
“What if I believe that Nandita is too young or too infatuated to make the best choice for her and the family? What, then, would you advise, oh wise one?” he had teased.
Clair had laughed. “Well, then you can be the bossy, interfering, big brother who, in his arrogance, believes he knows better for his little sister and pushes his thoughts and opinions all over her. Let me quote my dad, though: ‘the most important lessons you have learned, Claire, are those you learned when I trusted you enough to let you make your own mistakes.’”
When he heard her yawn and felt his own yawn in return, he’d looked at his desk clock and had been stunned by the time. He’d formally thanked Claire for her time and bid her goodnight. Just before he had hung up the phone, she had asked, “What about you, Satish? What would bring you self-fulfillment? What is it that you would choose?”
He hadn’t answered her, but joked that it was too late to start that conversation. Now, it was keeping him awake, though. A few weeks ago, he would have automatically said he would choose to fulfill his duty. He would have said it without thinking, and he would have been content with that reply. Claire had forced him to think differently, however, and it was causing him never-ending anxiety. He’d always known he would choose what his father had in store for him, but now he wasn’t so sure. Was that what he wanted?
He wouldn’t sleep, now, so he slipped on his robe and wandered back to his office. He sat down and drafted a message to Nandita.
Dearest sister, I have been thinking. I am not saying that I agree with you or support you, but I feel that I need to come to India, so we can discuss this issue as a family. I will write to Father and let him know. I will do this favor for you, if you will do one for me. I will tell Father to give you money, and I need you to buy the most beautiful antique silk you can find—the silk that appeals to you the most—and send it to me as quickly as you can. It is a gift for someone—a gift of appreciation.
Next was an email to his father.
Father, as you know, I was scheduled to return to India in three months. I think I should return sooner, so I can set a good example for Nandita and we can discuss and resolve her situation. I will make arrangements at work and let you know of my schedule.
When he had told Claire the story of his family in the restaurant that morning, there was a big part he had left out. After tonight, however, he knew he was going to have to share it with her soon.
15
Claire
A few days later, Claire was lying on the couch in her pajamas with the phone tucked under her ear. She had collected every pillow in the house—and had even stole Sally’s from her bed—and had arranged them underneath and around her in a kind of fortress. Although she was comfortable, she was about a foot above the couch cushions, so every time she shifted, she had to be careful not to topple over. She was challenging Satish to resolve this pillow engineering problem through gasps of laughter when Sally walked in the door.
“Sorry, gotta go—Sally’s home,” Claire said to Satish. Without waiting for an answer, she clicked the phone off.
“The way you were enjoying that conversation, it must have been Maureen,” Sally said as she dumped her bag onto the coffee table and kicked off her shoes.
Claire had not seen her roommate in four days. Thankfully, she’d had Satish to discuss her worries with, which had eased her stress a little, but she’d still had no idea what was going on with Sally. She had spoken to Satish every night since that four-hour marathon and she met him for coffee every morning. Claire had tried to bring up his family situation a few times, but Satish had told her that he was considering it and needed more time. Truth be told, it made him sound a little morose, so Claire had decided to avoid the subject.
Every conversation since then had been about her. Satish asked about everything: her dad, her business idea, her opinions, thoughts, and feelings. He also checked daily on the status of the Sally situation and Claire had nothing to report. Sally had left her a message every day letting her know she was okay, but she hadn’t told her anything else. It was encouraging, however, that Sally had sounded less angry with every day that passed. She was desperate to speak with her—she needed to talk to her about Satish and get her advice, since she was getting dragged into having some pretty powerful feelings for this man. It wasn’t exactly the kind of stuff she could discuss with her dad, or Maureen, given her latest revelation. She needed her best friend.
“No, it wasn’t Maureen,” Claire stood and threw her arms around Sally. “Where have you been, you bitch? I was worried sick about you.”
Sally grinned, plopped herself on the mile-high sofa, and promptly slipped off to land with a thud on the hardwood.
“Yeah, there’s a problem with that sofa,” Claire laughed. “I was just trying to work it out.”
“Why in the hell do you have all these pillows on here, Claire? I just about broke my lovely neck!”
“Hey, no changing the subject.” She hauled Sally back onto the couch after pushing a huge pile of pillows aside. “Where have you been?”
“You won’t believe me,” Sally said. “I have so much to tell you.”
“So, tell me! I had to wrestle your mom to the ground to stop her from coming over here with chicken soup—and let’s not even talk about the questions at work!” Claire grabbed a pillow and bashed her friend in the head. “I can’t believe you let me get so worried!
”
Sally pulled the pillow into her lap and rubbed her head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a bitch about Maureen. It’s just that something had happened that I was dying to talk to you about. I needed your advice, but I couldn’t get to you, since you always seemed to be with Maureen. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of her.”
“I’m sorry, too, Sal,“ Claire said. “Why didn’t you just tell me? You know I would have made time for you. You should have just yelled that it was an emergency!”
“I know, I should have, but I was in such a state that I wasn’t thinking.”
Claire squished her bum into a two-inch space between the arm of the couch and Sally and wiggled until her roommate scooched over. She flipped her legs over Sally’s lap. “Okay, tell me. I’m ready now.”
Sally propped her legs on the coffee table in front of her. “It was two days before I stormed out of here. I had gone over to Maxwell’s on my own because you and Maureen were working, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Claire reached for the remote and turned the TV off. “You didn’t come home until after I was in bed.”
“That’s it. Well, I was in Maxwell’s, and Tod’s friend, Chris, made a beeline for me with a rose in his hand. It was a pink one with a note from Tod. I was just about to play along and burn it in the ashtray, when Chris looked at me all serious and said, ‘Not this time, Sally. You should read it.’ Well, I opened the note, and it was an address. Chris looked at me and said, ‘It’s Tod’s birthday today. He just wants to talk to you and give you something. I’m supposed to bring you over there.’”
“Oh, dear,” Claire said. “Were you mean?”
“Well, I wanted to be. I wanted to tell Chris to get lost and that I wasn’t gonna go anywhere when I was having a much-needed drink. I thought that maybe I shouldn’t be so selfish—it was his birthday, after all. I thought of all the time I had spent dumping him, and I had a moment of weakness, so I went.”
Unraveled (Jersey Girls Book 1) Page 8
