The Story Hour

by Thrity Umrigar

  I shake my head. “I not think of what it do to you, Sudhir babu, because I thinks you are strong man. Smart man. I not knowing you as weak as you are.” His body jerk at the insult, but I not stopping. “I not knowing you as stupid as me. If I know you same as me, I not do such an evil thing. But I’s poor village girl. You are professor. So I thinks you more smart than me. I’s wrong.”

  Now his whole face is red, like his eyes. “Have you gone mad, Lakshmi? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “How long you knowing Maggie, Sudhir babu?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Since long time. She told me. Accha, tell me, how many times she hurt you?” He not say anything, so I answer, “Once. With one man. And for that, you treats her like the stray dog. For that, you not able to say her name? She make one mistake, Sudhir babu. Who you know not making one mistake in their life?”

  I wants to tell him so much: about how I trick my husband into marriage, about how he hate me also, about how, in past year, we slowly leaf the past behind. But Sudhir babu getting up from his chair and he angry. I get up, pick up my dust cloth, and as I leaf the room I say, “I no better than you, Sudhir babu. Maggie my best friend. She ask nothing from me, just give and give and give. But because of one time she judge me, I do this wicked thing. Maggie better than both of us.”

  Sudhir babu’s face drop like he going to cry. “Stop,” he say in soft voice. “Just go. Please.”

  I not prideful for what I doing to him but I also not ashame. He so much older than me, but right now he feels like my young brother. “I’s sorry, Sudhir babu,” I say. “I not mean to hurt you. But please, think of what I say. Maggie make one mistake. Please to forgive her.” I point to cigarette pack he keep on his desk. “You dying without her. Go bring her home. She love you.”

  He laugh. But it sound like he spit something bitter. “Bring her home? My dear Lakshmi, don’t tell me you don’t know? Maggie’s moved. All the way to California. She couldn’t wait to get as far away from me as possible.”

  Something in my heart die. Maggie move to the California? Why I not know? Why nobody tell me? Why Sudhir babu not mention? All these months, I look for her every time I go to Costco, ascare to see her, hope to see her. Always I thinking, at some time I run into her. Now I knows I never see her again. Just like Bobby. What is this California that steal everybody who I loves?

  “Hey. What’s wrong? Lakshmi. Are you okay? Here, sit. Let me get you a drink.”

  He run to the kitchen and get me ice water. I take one, two sips and put it down. Now I feels shy, stupid. Who I to give Sudhir babu the advice? So much I not knowing. Why I interfere to his life? He not my relation. When I can speak again, I say, “When she leaf?”

  He look as sad as I feel. “Almost a year ago. Soon after the divorce.”

  I nods. Nothing more for me to say. I gets up. “I’s sorry for how I speak to you. I forget my place for a minute.” I looks at the floor, not wanting him to see the tears in my eyes. “I finish cleaning today, Sudhir babu. But best if you finds some other cleaning lady for next time.”

  I feels him looking at me but he say nothing. I pick up my water glass and take it to kitchen. Then I go to living room and begin vacuum. I start with the furniture. There is food crumb everywhere. What has happen to my old Sudhir babu? And how is Maggie? She so far away. Who make her eat? Who look after her if she sick? Is she smoke cigarette like he do? Does she talk to Sudhir babu? Is she still love him? So many questions I wants to ask. But no need to. I create enough trouble for both of them.

  After apartment clean, I pack my things and quietly open the front door to leaf. I not wanting to see Sudhir babu again. My heart hurt too much to see his pain. I not wanting to take his money after the insult I give him. My work here is finish.

  39

  SHE WAS ALREADY half an hour late leaving for Gloria’s house when the phone rang. It was Odell and Juliette calling from Paris to wish her a merry Christmas. Odell wanted to make sure she wasn’t planning to spend the day alone and was relieved when she told him she had been invited to Gloria’s. He asked if she’d received the check he’d sent her for Christmas, how the house was, if she was making new friends. She could tell he was worried. “Odell. I’m okay,” she finally said. “Now will you stop acting like my older brother?”

  “I am your older brother.” She heard the smile in his voice. Also the protectiveness. “Here, talk to your sister-in-law. She’s dying to speak to you.”

  “Maggie?” Juliette’s voice had the breathy quality it always did. “How are you, dear? I wish you’d listened to your brother and come spent Christmas with us.”

  “Oh, me too. Maybe sometime in the summer. And I’m fine. Honest. Stop worrying about me. So how many people did you guys have for dinner last night?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

  They talked for a few minutes before Juliette handed the phone back to her husband.

  “Have you talked to Dad today?” Odell asked.

  “No, not yet.”

  “You gonna?” Even from this distance, Maggie could hear the anxiety that poor Odell always felt about running interference between their father and her.

  “I guess so.”

  “Boy, that sure sounded enthusiastic, Mags.” They laughed, but then Odell grew serious and said, “Look. I don’t blame you. But . . . he’s getting old, Mags. And believe it or not, he’s worried sick about you. He’s, like, called me a dozen times to ask how you’re doing.”

  “Instead of calling me, you mean?” Her words came out sharper than she’d intended.

  “Mags. I’m not gonna argue with you. Just . . . call him, would you?”

  “Okay. Okay. I said I would.”

  “Good. I love you, baby girl.”

  “Don’t call me that. Christ. I’m fifty-six years old.”

  “But you’re still my baby sister. So deal with it.”

  They laughed again. After a few seconds, Maggie said, “I should hang up. I’m already late for Gloria’s.” She paused. “Love you, Odell. Give Juliette and Justin hugs from me.”

  “Will do. And you give Sudh—Oops. Sorry. Slip of the tongue.”

  Her heart caught, but she managed a laugh. “No problem. Merry Christmas.”

  She hung up and was about to dial Wallace’s number when her phone rang again. Odell must’ve forgotten to tell her something. “Yesss?” she said in an exaggerated deep voice.

  There was a silence and then she heard Sudhir say, “Maggie?”

  Her hand began to shake involuntarily. “Oh, hi. Sorry. I thought you were Odell. I was just . . .”

  “How is he? And Juliette and Justin?”

  “He . . . He’s fine. They are all fine.” And then she half-lied, “He sent his love to you.”

  “Huh.” What was that she’d heard in his voice? Skepticism? Surprise? Why was he calling her, anyway? And on Christmas Day?

  “Merry Christmas,” she said.

  “What? Yeah, you too.” He sounded preoccupied but also sharp, not half-drugged, as he had the last time they’d spoken.

  She waited for him to explain why he was calling, steadying one hand with the other, but he was silent. “Sudhir,” she said gently. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Everything’s fine.” But she heard the crack in his voice.

  “What—?”

  “Lakshmi was here,” he said quickly. “She’s been cleaning for me.”

  Her throat tightened at the sound of Lakshmi’s name. And at the news that Sudhir had let back into his life the woman who had destroyed both their lives. They had always shared a bond, those two. Hell, it was Sudhir who had launched her catering career. Maggie felt a renewed spurt of anger at Lakshmi’s treachery.

  “I see.” She forced her voice to stay neutral. Why was he telling her this? To rub salt in her wounds?

  “And—and she said a few things. About us. At first I was angry. She was way over the line, you know. But then I had a few days to thin
k about it. And she was right. You know?”

  Was he drunk? What the hell was he talking about? Maggie glanced at her watch. She was a full hour late to Gloria’s, and God knew what the traffic would be like. “Sudhir—” she began.

  “No, wait. Basically, she called me an idiot. Said I was weak. That is, an idiot for letting you go. And weak for pining away for you.”

  The tears that came into Maggie’s eyes made the room go blurry. Hope fluttered like a trapped butterfly within her. Her brain felt sluggish, heavy, no help in trying to parse Sudhir’s words. Was Sudhir saying he was an idiot for losing her? Or was he merely relaying what Lakshmi had said? Was there a difference? And did she really believe that Lakshmi would talk to Sudhir in that manner? Was he making this whole thing up? She wanted to scream with frustration. “I’m not following what you’re saying.”

  “That’s because I’m not saying it well.” He fell silent for a moment. Then, “If I ask you something, will you answer honestly?”

  A dullness spread through her, extinguishing the hope that had flared. “I don’t know,” she said woodenly. “What is it?”

  “Did you love Peter?”

  She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to rehash the past with Sudhir. That was the whole point of divorce: that you didn’t have to process things. Divorce was a cleaver—with one swift motion, it separated the past from the present, two people from each other. She opened her mouth to refuse his question, and then she thought, Why the hell not? It was a reasonable enough question. Surely Sudhir had earned the right to know the answer. He should’ve asked her when he first found out. But he hadn’t, and perhaps he couldn’t have at the time. He was too hurt, too wounded. Too afraid to know the answer.

  “No,” she said. “Never. I was always clear that my life was with you. That I love—loved—you.”

  “Then why?”

  Here she could draw the line. The why was something she hadn’t fully answered for herself. Even if she had, the why was something she would keep for herself, guard it even from Sudhir. The why went too deep, too far back, into the very shaping of her. It had something to do with her mother’s death and Wallace’s abuse and the damage done. It had to do with needing shelter and stability and Sudhir at one point in her life, and then, in her fifties, briefly needing something larger, wilder, more exciting. It had to do with containing multitudes, with being a complicated, contradictory, complex human being. The why was like God or the meaning of life—unanswerable. Unknowable. And she was okay with that.

  “Sudhir,” she said as gently as she could. “What’s the point?”

  He cleared his throat. “Okay. Fair enough.” Abruptly, he asked, “What are you doing today?”

  “Going to Gloria’s. I’m already an hour late.”

  “Oh. Sorry. You should go.”

  “Sudhir? What is it?” She could sense his agitation.

  “Nothing. Just that . . . Lakshmi also said that you’d made one mistake in all these years. One mistake. And for that, I threw you away.”

  Something opened up inside her, a yawning hole of regret, grief, sadness. All of a sudden, she understood what he was trying to say—it had all been futile. A waste. They had both acted rashly, and for this, they had paid a huge price. It was one thing to divorce a spouse you didn’t love. But their love still bled, which meant it was fresh and alive. No wonder they both hurt so.

  “And what did you say?” Her voice was husky, unrecognizable to her.

  “Nothing. I said nothing.”

  There was a long silence. “Well, then. I guess there’s nothing to say.”

  “Well . . .”

  The disappointment she felt at knowing that this was where things ended, that Sudhir was unprepared or unable to take things any further, turned into impatience. An image of Peter, intense, passionate, demanding, flashed before her eyes. How doggedly Peter had pursued her each time she’d tried breaking up with him. This was what Sudhir lacked—that fierceness, that go-getterness. It was this quality that had made Peter attractive to her.

  “My cell phone’s ringing,” she lied. “It’s probably Gloria, wondering where I am.”

  Though she could sense his reluctance to let her go, he said, “Yes, you better get going.”

  “What are you doing today?”

  “Me?” He sounded surprised, as if having plans on Christmas were preposterous. “Oh, I don’t know. Several people have invited me for dinner. But I think I’ll just go to a movie.”

  It hurt to think of Sudhir alone in a movie theater. It’s not your problem, Maggie reminded herself. “Maybe you should go to dinner. Be with people.”

  “Maybe.” There was a short silence and then he said, “Achcha. Bye.”

  “Bye. Merry Christmas.”

  She hung up and wandered listlessly to the front porch. She debated whether to call Gloria and beg off from dinner, her mood ruined by the strange call from Sudhir, but decided to follow her own advice. She looked out at the ocean, hazy in the early-afternoon sunlight. It looked as lonely and restless as she felt. She replayed the desultory conversation with Sudhir in her head, trying to make heads or tails out of it. Had Lakshmi really spoken to him in that manner? Why? Why had Sudhir allowed her into his home in the first place? And what did Lakshmi think she was doing by playing Dear Abby? Appeasing her conscience?

  Maggie fumed about Lakshmi for a few minutes but then ran out of gas. The fact of the matter was, she couldn’t hate Lakshmi. She’d tried for the past year, but she couldn’t. Instead, what she felt when she thought about her was mortification. That Lakshmi had seen her naked—in more senses than the obvious one. That she had seen Peter naked. That she’d had her illusions destroyed. Maggie knew that Lakshmi had looked up to her. She was sorry to have turned out to be such a lousy role model. She was sorry that their friendship had reached such an abrupt, ignoble end. Lakshmi had brought a lot of vitality and wonder to her life. She missed that.

  Maggie sighed. She knew she should call Wallace but couldn’t muster up the psychic energy that it would take. I’ll call him from the car, she decided. As I get closer to Gloria’s.

  She picked up her house keys and grabbed her purse. As she locked the front door, she made a resolution. She would not accept any more phone calls from Sudhir. It was much too unsettling. She had cheated on him. He had found out. They had divorced. Those were facts. That was the reality of their lives. They both had to live with that.

  40

  AFTER CHRISTMAS I thinks the parties stop but Janice and Dick Russo wanting me to cater their New Year Eve party. Forty-five peoples they invite, and I having to feed them all. All day today husband, Rekha, Smita, and I cook. For first time, I asking Rekha to come with me tonight to help serve. I’s too tired to do this alone.

  I sitting on toilet pot in Janice’s bathroom since last five minute, rubbing my feets. Someone knock on the door but I not answer and they goes away. Janice having such a big house, I’s sure there many other bathrooms. Few month ago she ask me to do weekly cleaning but I says no. Such big house take eight hours or more to clean. I tell her my schedule is pack. Of course, if Janice find out I quit Sudhir babu’s house, she may ask again. But Sudhir babu become like a sadhu—he not seeing anyone, I thinks, so how she going to know?

  Rekha alone with serving the food, so I know I needs to get up and help. But still I sits, rubbing my feets. Tomorrow I ask husband to give me the massage. Thanks God restaurant and store both close tomorrow.

  It only eleven o’clock yet. Janice say that in one hours they will all watch the TV to see silver ball drop from the sky. She also wanting me to serve the guests the champagne wine at that time. For this reason I cannot go home. She also buy funny hats for her guests and some paper horn to blow. Janice not inviting any childrens to the party but then she buy her guests toys that make them act like childrens. If I living to be hundred years old, I not understanding Am’rican peoples.

  Someone knock on bathroom door again and I gets up from pot. I
opens the door and gets biggest shock—it is Sudhir babu who knock on door. He look as surprise to see me. “Oh, hi,” he say. “I . . . I didn’t know . . .” His face get bright. “Did you cater? Tonight?”

  What he think? That Janice invite me because we best friend? But one thing about Sudhir babu, I can’t be angry to him. Also, he not looking like crazy man anymore. He look like Shashi Kapoor again. His hair still long but the beard gone and he wearing clean white shirt and blue jean. “Yes,” I say. “Plenty food left. You go eat.”

  He smile. “Lakshmi. You were born to feed people. Thanks. I’ll use the bathroom and then eat. I’m starving.”

  I goes into the kitchen to make plate for Sudhir babu. Janice come up, wanting something, but I tells her to ask Rekha. One good thing—my food so especial, they all a little ascare of me, in case I say no to cater their party. So what I wants, they do. Janice go to find Rekha and I make plate for Sudhir babu. By the time he come up to me, the food nice and warm. I watch while he eats. “What about you?” he ask. “Did you eat yet?”

  Minute he say this, my stomach growl. He laugh so hard little foods come out of his mouth. “Guess that’s a no,” he say, and before I can reply, he cut small piece of lamb and holding fork up to my mouth. I so shock I turns my head. I never had strange man feed me before. Even the husband not to do this. “You eat, Sudhir babu,” I say. “I fix my plate later.”

  He begin to eat and I can know he’s not eating all day today. After a few minute he speak with his mouth full. “Okay,” he say. “I have a confession to make. I lied. Actually, I knew you were going to be at the party tonight. I ran into Janice a few days ago and she told me. You are the reason why I came.” He swallow his food and then he face me. “I called her. Maggie. A few days after you were over. I thought about what you said and I called her.”

  My mouth suddenly so dry. “So what she say?” I not even knowing he know how to reach Maggie. Maybe he come to tell me they going to marry again? My heart light at the thought. This is only way God will forgive me for what I do. Otherwise I will have to do hundred rebirths as punishment.