Louisiana Catch

by Sweta Srivastava Vikram

  “Social media and social networking are what brought us together.” He flaunted his dimple.

  I smiled at him.

  “How about I bring you some tea? And we figure out if you can delegate any of the work to my team?”

  Rohan made me a strong cup of Earl Grey and we stood by the kitchen windows that overlooked the street. I thanked him and held the cup with both hands. “Rohan, I want to go to your favorite bar in NOLA.”

  “I’d love that. Unfortunately, I am at a client site during the day and won’t be home until late. And I’ll be at the lawyer’s office all day tomorrow because Hedick wants some last-minute contracts negotiated. But we can go there tomorrow after confirming all the conference setup. Works?”

  “I won’t see you until tomorrow night.” I stared at my feet.

  He lifted my chin, “I will see you later tonight,” and kissed me on my lips. “I have no intention of letting you sleep.”

  I punched his chest and blushed.

  “If you’d like, ask Naina and Josh to join us tomorrow evening for an early drink after work.” He gently ran his thumb on my cheekbones. “I will text you the address.”

  After instructing the reception committee and double-checking the airport pickup schedule for speakers, I walked to the Westin Canal Place. The hotel was a central point between the French Quarter and the convention center, and this was where all our panelists were going to stay. I made sure all the arrangements were in place. The AV, caterers, volunteers, microphones, podiums, and green room. The staff was helpful and brought me a cup of tea after the meeting. It was nice to look out the window and see the Mississippi River. The view of the Riverwalk, riverboats, and open space allowed me to breathe out my anxiety.

  * * *

  I walked to Rohan’s favorite bar to meet with him; I saw him and Josh caught in a serious discussion. I hugged Josh, and Rohan turned to the bartender. “Can I get a glass of your Deloach pinot noir? Thanks, man!” He pulled up a barstool for me.

  I put down my handbag full of conference paperwork. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Jay’s possible next move.” Josh was in cop mode. He hadn’t touched his single malt.

  “He hasn’t made any contact or said anything on the group recently.” I adjusted my dress as I sat down. “But yes, I wonder what he might do next.”

  Rohan turned to Josh. “If Jay committed a crime, why would it be hard to lock him up?”

  Josh swirled his drink. “Jay is not your blatant lawbreaker. There is little defense our legal system offers against sociopaths like him. Unless Amanda or Tanya press charges or we have more proof, cops can’t get involved.”

  “Men like Jay just roam around, defrauding people?” Both of Rohan’s hands were in fists. “And we can do nothing about it, even when it’s clear he defrauded these women?”

  Josh patted Rohan’s left shoulder. “I know, man. I hate it as much as you do.”

  Ten minutes into the conversation, Naina joined. “Are we still talking about that shithead?”

  “How did you know?” Rohan gave Naina a hug and ordered her a drink.

  “Guys, you forget that I’m a shrink.”

  Josh rubbed her shoulders. “Hon, I want to run something by you. Rohan and I are wondering if Ahana should post the details of her talk on her therapy group.”

  At her startled look, Rohan added, “It might trigger Jay to show up and confront Ahana. We can catch him in action then.”

  For the first time in my life, I saw Naina patiently hear everyone out. She took a sip of Josh’s drink and unwrapped her scarf. “Guys, Jay won’t make the rookie mistake.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are prepping for Jay assuming what ‘regular’ criminals do. But he is an intelligent and a logical man with a narcissistic personality disorder. He has probably figured out Ahana is on to him. He won’t show up and risk being caught.” She took a deep breath. “He has probably already lost interest in you guys and moved on to his next victim in another group.”

  “As a cop, I have dealt with every kind of bum and criminal. But this is fucking insane.”

  “Yes, and it’s fucking common, too. We don’t hear about it because women end up feeling ashamed and refuse to talk about it even when it’s not their fault.”

  I bit my lower lip, uneasy and content to let Naina steer the men away from their gung-ho plan. And she was already diving into case histories: “I have a client who almost married a man who fabricated an entire life on Facebook using strangers’ pictures and their information. He lured lonely women into making romantic connections. My client found discrepancies in the information he shared, so she questioned him; he got evasive. She traveled to this guy’s house in upstate New York only to find that his wife and mother were in on the scam. This guy moves in with single or divorced women and eventually gets their property transferred to his name.”

  Rohan looked helpless. “How is that even possible?”

  “Fucking charmer! Since the wife and mother were involved in the scam, his secret stayed protected. Thankfully, my client found out before he moved into her house. For Christ’s sake, she has a five-year-old son. When she confronted him and threatened to alert the other women on Facebook, he vowed to hurt her kid. She backed down and blocked him.”

  Rohan’s blue eyes narrowed. “How did Jay know things not just about Ahana but also Chutney’s job with the Indian government? Ahana didn’t share it with him. How did he get all of this info on her, including your schedule and address?”

  “Rohan, my address is listed if you dig deep enough—that one was easy. Ahana’s family is famous as shit. I swear, you can even find out what her great-grandfather did. Plus, the online world is not transparent. While some of us may be more discriminate than others, we live in a time when it’s common to build online networks that include secondary and tertiary connections. Ahana won’t even know if there was information on her in the online world posted by a friend, colleague, or even her shithead ex-husband.”

  Josh hadn’t lifted his hand from her shoulders, rubbing absently, pondering what she said. “There are other women in the group. Why did he mess with Amanda, Tanya, and Ahana only?”

  “From what Ahana has told us, these are the only three single women in the group—all vulnerable after losing a loved one. Go figure.”

  “Easy prey.” Josh stroked his chin.

  Rohan played with the peanuts in the bowl. “But wait; Jay’s mother is alive. He is married. How could he pull any of this off?”

  “Maybe his manipulations are part of a petty scheme to defraud women of their money? Who knows if he has any inside help.”

  I sat in silence and obsessively rearranged the napkins on the bar table.

  “I’m sorry,” Naina whispered, and put an arm around my shoulder. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you may never find out how Jay stalked you so well. How he found out about my schedule. Whether or not his mother and wife were a part of all this. Your entry into the online world seemed to have sent tendrils out that you cannot retract, and snakes like Jay know how to pick up on your scent.”

  As I heard Rohan, Naina, and Josh mentally recording new steps in my discovery process, it finally came to me. That the goal, maybe, is to achieve the same kind of oneness with someone that we only get once—with our own mothers, ideally. That goal isn’t attainable, or at least it probably isn’t, because even our mothers are their own imperfect people. Like my mumma who loved me unconditionally but didn’t think I could make my own decisions or fight my own battles. Her love, which I will forever hold dear in my heart, at times made me vulnerable rather than strong. Truth: we can still strive for the best, and if we are lucky, we end up with a few real, great loves in our life. In my case, it was Rohan, Naina, and Josh. I was grateful for them. They made me feel safe.

  - 32 -

  On the morning of the conference’s first day, it was humbling to bow my head to the morning sun and do eleven sun salutations
. “If you want radiant and ageless skin, surya namaskars are the answer, not cosmetic surgery,” Mumma would tell her bridge partners when they complained about the age-appropriate wrinkles on their faces.

  I meditated for twenty minutes and set my intention for the day.

  Naina and Masi sent me text messages wishing me lots of good luck. Masi had asked whether she could drop off any homemade breakfast for me on her way to work. Indian moms and aunts, no one feeds people better, I thought to myself. I said, “Masi, I’m too nervous to eat, but I’ll get a green juice, I promise.”

  “Beta, when do we get to see you? Do you want me to stop by at your hotel in the evening?”

  “No, Masi.” My heart filled up. “Not at all. You have guests at home. I’ll stop by and spend time with the family.”

  “Perfect. Bring Rohan along.” Masi’s voice was filled with affection.

  “Ummm.”

  “Masi means—like Mom. While I might not be your Mumma, I am your mom’s sister and will always know all the antics you and Naina are up to.” She laughed. “You haven’t sounded this happy in very long time, beta. I want to meet the man who has won my Ahana’s heart.”

  “Love you, Masi.”

  “Love you too, beta.”

  I called up Dad and Chutney and got their blessings. When I told Chutney about Rohan, she teased, “Brilliant! We’ll have blue-eyed grandchildren.”

  I laughed hysterically. “You are mental, Chutney.”

  “I love this boy already, Ahana.”

  “Without meeting him?”

  “He made you come alive from the very first day he walked into your life. God bless him.”

  “Will you prep Dad about Rohan?”

  “I have already started the process. I cannot wait to see you. Tell Rohan that I am bringing laddoos for him. Love you.”

  I checked my online therapy group forum and my emails. There was no message from Jay. Dev hadn’t made any contact since I’d last screamed at him in New Delhi. Contact between him and Jay seemed more and more unlikely.

  I looked outside the hotel room windows and whispered my gratitude to the universe.

  I had so much love in my life. I was happy. I wished Mumma were alive. I wished she could see me handle the conference. I was a victim, but I had directed my pain in a way so I could help others. The last memory Mumma had of me was that of a sad, quiet, lonely, and broken woman in the summer of 2013. The divorce with Dev had dissolved my identity. I wished she could see how much I had changed with Naina and Rohan’s help in less than a year. Dancing, sipping Sazeracs, standing up for myself, honoring my needs, and laughing. In Rohan’s company, it was hard to remain sad. I wished she could have met Rohan. With their love for dancing and whiskey, they would have really gotten along.

  I took a hot shower and wore Mumma’s pearl earrings as my good luck charm. I slipped into a fitting blue silk blouse and black skirt. Seer pantyhose, stilettos, a pink lipstick, and pink blush to stay subtle through the day.

  * * *

  It was a beautiful day in NOLA. Clear skies. Slightly nippy. The city looked busier than usual—over 3,000 people had registered for the conference.

  Since I didn’t like stressing out about being late anywhere, I reached the convention center an hour before the scheduled time. I confirmed that everything was as I had requested. The last-minute booths and three registration tables were being set up at the entrance. The day before, I had met with the people who were going to do the registration so that they all knew what was expected of them. The temperature and lighting were perfect. The caterer was setting up shop. I personally checked the microphones in each room. The team responsible for greeting the speakers was on its way. Being organized, planned, and structured gave me a high.

  I put my hands on my hips and looked at the massive venue. It’s all worked out, Mumma.

  Rohan arrived fifteen minutes after me. He looked breathtakingly handsome in his light blue, fitted, designer shirt, blue pants, and Hermes orange tie.

  “How come you are here this early, Brady?”

  “Good morning to you too.” He gave me a kiss.

  Rohan tucked my hair behind my right ear. “I know how important today is for you. Figured I’d grab a cup of tea with you first before I meet with Crystal and Michael.”

  I hugged him. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re here. So nervous, yaar. I hope it all goes well.”

  “Oh, it will. You have worked so hard for it.”

  “Thanks for the faith. Uff, managing these fragile, academic egos, I couldn’t have done it without you.” I threw my arms in the air.

  “There are better ways of thanking me.” Rohan let out an evil grin.

  “Paagal.” I pinched his arm.

  Rubbing his right arm, Rohan said, “The arrangements look great, Matron! Did you see the napkins in the breakfast cafes?”

  “No, why?”

  “They all have the logo No Excuse on them.”

  “Wow, we remind them right from day one of the conference the importance of No Excuse! That’s true brand identity.”

  “Exactly.”

  Rohan and I walked inside each of the five rooms, set up for parallel tracks of different plenary sessions, to make sure all the projectors were working. The conference rooms had pleasant daylight and could seat up to 100 people. We tested the audiovisual technology and wi-fi.

  We made sure the breakfast cafes were set up and that every restroom was sparkling clean. Cafes and water junctions were set up. The hotel staff was prepped and ready to go. We each got a set of walkie-talkies.

  I paused in my steps and held Rohan’s hand. “I wish Mumma was here, Rohan.” I looked at the room. “I can’t believe where I am today.” My eyes welled up.

  “She would have been so proud of you.” Rohan pressed my hand. “You are spearheading the largest women’s conference in the world, Ahana. You’re calling attention to the heinous issue of violence against women that should be addressed. I am so proud of you.” He put his hands on my shoulders.

  “Thanks, Rohan. I wish she could have met you. You would have really liked her.”

  “I have no doubt! Let’s go to New Delhi after Naina’s wedding. Show me around all the places where your mom liked to hang out.” He smiled and scratched his chin.

  I noticed that he’d missed a tiny spot shaving. I kissed it.

  He planted a long kiss. “I mean her bridge partners would like me.” Rohan winked at me.

  “Such a pig, Rohan.”

  “You laughed. For me, that is most important.”

  Michael and Crystal showed up seventy-five minutes later. It was almost disconcerting to see Michael ecstatic about the arrangements. “You have fucking massage chairs in green rooms? That’s mind-blowing. Ahana, you should come work for me.” He turned to Crystal. “Find out what it takes for Ahana to get her visa.”

  Rohan and I smiled at each other. Mumma was right: when you set your intention and you are truly honest about what you want out of life, the universe conspires to make it all happen.

  At 8:30 a.m., we all attached our badges. Yes, it was time to address the crisis of violence against women. It was time to say “No” to bullying, being timid, policing, and the exploitation of women.

  Video cameras were set. Photographers were in place. The social media team was ready with the hashtag #noexcuse and #womencometogether. Looking at some of the social media posts and pictures of buses full of women attendees, with a gigantic banner with No Excuse streaming across their bus, it felt as if the collective consciousness of the global society had risen that day. As if everyone had pledged to set an intention for a safer existence for vulnerable women.

  The conference venue started to fill up with people and words. No Excuse started to trend on different platforms in twenty-five minutes of registration booths being opened. People posted selfies, quoted the speakers, shared their experiences, and commiserated with other women. Rohan showed me all the applause the press was giving me and the event.
/>
  “Let’s see what Hedick has to say about that.” I elbowed Rohan and bit my cheek.

  Most events were focused around women learning and realizing how important it was to use their voices. So many victims, including myself, had stayed silent around our perpetrators, because we felt shame and somehow responsible for the crimes committed on us. So many women didn’t know they had the choice to say “No” to violence and rape. Most victims lost dignity and No Excuse would educate them to hold their head high and speak up against violence. There were also safety and self-defense workshops.

  Each interaction with an attendee or speaker, every post, started to fill up the hole in me and gave me courage for the speech I knew was coming.

  Rohan took good care of all the speakers and their temper tantrums every day. He even managed to defuse any stress Michael’s fricative personality created. Rohan was calm, and diplomatically handled all the complaints. I interacted with the speakers and panelists and made sure everything worked smoothly.

  Sarah Goldstein did an excellent presentation on women policing other women. Dialogues around victims’ lifestyles, wardrobes, and work hours violated them as much as the perpetrator himself. “Let’s stand together as one. Accept and make No Excuse for why a woman is abused or assaulted or violated. The women who are oppressed shouldn’t become oppressors. We, as women, need to unite to fight the epidemic of violence against women.”

  Professors and activists held workshops to teach women to recognize signs if they were in an abusive relationship. “Emotional abuse doesn’t leave scars that can be seen with the naked eye,” they reiterated.

  Every now and then, Rohan checked in with me. “Are you all right, Matron?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be, Brady?”

  “Given the theme for today.”

  I examined his face. “I am strong because I am a survivor.” I held his hand. “You remind me of all the good in my life.”

  “I want to see all this gratitude translate into a lap dance.” He smiled at me.