The Sleepwalker's Guide to Dancing: A Novel (36 page)

“What are they going to do?” Amina asked as she watched Akhil place his pillow and his backpack in the backseat of Thomas’s car. They
would not be coming back until late the next afternoon, Thomas had explained, checking his pager mid-sentence. Now her father was in the driver’s seat, his mouth moving over words that Amina could tell were directed not at her brother at all but at whoever was on the newly installed car phone.

“Who knows? Some stupid dream-monitoring nonsense.” Kamala frowned.

“But why does it take so long?”

“Measuring nighttime and daytime activity or some idiot thing.”

“But what does Dad think is wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing is wrong, he just wants to perform some tests to make sure nothing is wrong.”

Did Kamala hear herself when she said things like this out loud? Amina’s annoyed disbelief was abruptly tempered by her mother’s face, the fevered anxiety of someone treading water with no shoreline in sight. She squeezed Kamala’s shoulder and went upstairs to read.

CHAPTER 3

T
he problem with talking to Paige was that Amina had never really talked to her before. Or certainly not more than a few sentences, with Akhil nearby making sure the communication remained short and sweet. Still, the next day at school, Amina found herself walking toward the picnic table behind the senior building where Paige sat alone, reading a book.

“Oh, hi,” Paige said, looking up. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, um.” What was she supposed to say? Amina smiled nervously. “Akhil isn’t here today.”

“I noticed.”

“Yeah. He’s, uh, did he call you? About why he isn’t here?”

“No.” Paige closed her book. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Nope. Nothing.”

Paige squinted at her with that same look Jamie would get sometimes in English class, like he thought you were trying to trick him
when you were really just trying to figure out what to say. Amina stared at Paige’s jeans, which were blue and slightly bell-bottomed and hugged her thighs.

“Have you ever seen him fall asleep?” Amina asked.

“What?” Paige stiffened.

“I mean, I just … has he ever fallen asleep around you suddenly? Like, maybe when he’s emotional or excited or something?”

Paige blushed slightly, pushing a lock of black hair behind her ear. “I don’t know.”

“Never mind. It’s silly. I’m just, you know, trying to figure something out. It’s not a big deal. My dad just asked about it, and I thought—”

“Wait, your dad’s worried about it?”

“What? No, no. I mean, kind of. He just … he asked me, and I don’t really even see Akhil that much anymore, I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you’re sort of the person who sees him most now, so I thought that maybe you … but it’s no big thing. Thanks.”

She had no idea what she was thanking Paige for, or even really saying at all. She spun frantically and walked toward the sophomore building, daffodils blurring together in the corner of her vision as she sped away.

“Hey, Amina!” Paige called after her, but she just waved, pretending they were finished with a conversation that they’d never actually started.

“What’s for dinner?” Amina asked, coming into the kitchen late that afternoon.

Kamala sat on a stool sorting red lentils. “Meen curry, rice, cabbage. I’m making dahl too, but for tomorrow.”

She put her backpack down and headed into the pantry.

“Is Akhil back?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.” She grabbed a fruit roll.

“Don’t bug him, nah? Poor thing was woken up all night.”

“Yeah, okay.” Amina headed up the stairs, kicking her shoes off before going across to Akhil’s room. His door was half open, his socked
feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Amina watched the rise and fall of his back from the doorway.

“Get out.”

“You’re not even asleep.”

“Get out anyway.”

She walked around his bed to his desk, pulling out the chair and sweeping a collection of ripe-smelling T-shirts to the floor. “So what did they do?”

“Tests.”

“Yeah, no duh, but, like, how was it?”

“How do you think?”

“Did they give you a brain scan?” she asked.

“They monitored my sleep. Put some sensors on. Woke me up a few times.”

“Was Dad there?”

“Mostly.”

“Did it hurt?”

Akhil said nothing.

“Well, anyway, it’s over, right? I mean, did they find anything?”

Her brother was silent except for the socked foot wagging at the end of the bed.

“Hey,” Amina said. “Do you remember that
That’s Incredible!
about the guy with the twin stuck in his head? Remember, the guy with the headaches?”

“GET OUT!” Akhil yelled, head rising from the pillow, and she sprang from the chair, heart thwacking.

“Jesus, psycho, I’m just asking!”

But he was up already, up and coming at her and taller, if possible, than he had been just the day before. She tried to dodge him, but Akhil grabbed one of her arms, twisting it behind her back and jamming her wrist between her shoulder blades.

“Ow! Ouch, Akhil, stop!”

He threw her into a headlock, dragging her across the floor. When he reached the door, he threw her out, slamming it behind her.

“Dickwad!” Amina yelled at it, cheeks burning. What the hell had brought that on? It had been years since he had put her in a headlock,
and she was pissed to find out she was no more able to get out of it than she had been when she was eleven. She kicked the door, hard.

“Fuck off!” Akhil yelled.

“You suck!” she yelled back.

“Amina!” Kamala called from downstairs. “What in God’s green name are you doing? Leave him alone! He’s had enough for one day.”

It was Paige, of course, who would give him the comfort he needed. Amina watched them at school the next day out in the parking lot at lunch, clearly in too deep of a conversation to bother going off campus. Akhil sat on the hood of the station wagon, and Paige stood in front of him holding both of his hands while he talked. When he leaned into her, Amina looked away.

The dinner Kamala made the next night was just short of delicious. The culmination of two days’ work, it had started out of familial love but met with anxiety in the final hours of preparation, as Thomas came home and spoke to her in low tones in the kitchen.

The result was a botched favorite family meal. Kamala’s idlis, usually light, now sank into slightly-too-smokey sambar. A strange tang infected the coconut chutney. The mango lassi for dessert was much too pulpy, but still everyone made sure to swallow every last drop, as if tipped off by their own organs to avoid the coming conversation. Finally, Thomas folded his hands.

“You can’t drive for a while,” he said.

“What?” Akhil frowned. “For how long?”

“It depends.”

“On what? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why are you punishing me?” Akhil leaned back in his chair, glaring at his father.

Amina saw her parents’ gaze meet, retreat. Silence.

Akhil leaned forward. “Dad, you can’t just say it depends and then not tell me. You have to tell me what so I can know what the rules are. I mean, it’s only fair.”

“We have to do some more tests.”

Akhil’s lips hung open. He blinked. “What?”

“We need to do a few tests at the hospital, starting next week.” Thomas took a deep breath, spreading his palms wide. “Your sleeping patterns show evidence of adolescent-onset narcolepsy.”

Akhil stared at him, the color leaking from his face.

“There’s a possibility that you need to be treated,” Thomas said.

“Narcolepsy? Like I fall asleep?”

Thomas nodded.

“But I don’t do that anymore.” Akhil looked at his mother. “Mom, tell him.”

“I don’t think it’s such a big deal,” Kamala said.

“What?”

“I don’t see why this sleeping is so different from the other sleeping,” she said to Thomas. “So he sleeps! Last time, I told you, it was nothing,
no big deal, growing boy, in my head
, nah? Now he’s better, and you think it’s some big crisis.”

Akhil turned to Amina. “Tell Dad that I don’t sleep like I used to. Apparently he hasn’t been around enough to notice.”

Amina looked at her father. Akhil kicked her under the table.

“Ow! Jesus!”

“Tell him!”

“It’s …” Amina cleared her throat, scared. “You do, though.”

“What?”

“It’s different now. It’s not that weird long sleep-forever thing. Now you just pass out for just a little bit. Sometimes. Anywhere.”

“What?”

“Something is wrong with you! I don’t know!” Amina looked at her father pleadingly. “I’m not the doctor.”

Akhil turned back to Thomas. “So that’s why you took me in for those tests? You said you were looking for sleep apnea!”

Thomas nodded. “We were looking for everything. Apnea was a possibility. Narcolepsy was also a possibility.”

“But you didn’t tell
me
that.”

“I wanted to be sure.”

“Oh, so now you’re sure?”

“No, not entirely. But we need to look into it if we’re going to treat you—”

“Treat me? Like I’m your
patient
?” Akhil’s voice shot up a scale.

“Not mine. Dr. Subramanian’s.”

“You’re going to let that guy fuck with my brain?”

“Akhil, we’re not going to do anything to your brain—”

“Bullshit! You’re going to fucking lobotomize me! You’re going to … what do you think? That you can just change me?”

“What is he talking about?” Thomas asked his wife, but Kamala shrugged, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“God only knows what things you and your son will say to each other. So? Now he’s angry. Brilliant, Thomas.”

“I told you, this isn’t something we can ignore—”

“Of course it isn’t. When I tell you, it’s some silly joke, right? Some silly woman with her head on outwards. But when you decide,
then
it’s a problem.”

“This has nothing to do with that. How many times do I have to say—”

“I’m not going,” Akhil announced. His parents looked at him. “To get more tests. I’m not going to do it.”

“You have to,” Thomas said.

“You’re not touching my brain.”

“Of course I’m not; the testing isn’t invasive—”

“I’m telling you, I’m not going.”

“Son, don’t make this worse than it is, okay? All I’m saying is that we need to figure out what it is. That’s all.”

“And then what? We find out I’ve got narcolepsy, and then? What’s the cure?”

“Why get ahead of yourself? We’ll just have to take it slow. First figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“We?
We?
What, you’re going to stick around for this like you care?”

“Of course I care! Don’t be silly!”

“Bullshit. You’re never even fucking here. You don’t even …” Akhil looked at his mother, at Amina, at his father’s mouth, which was already opening in rebuttal. “You don’t even like us.”

Thomas’s mouth snapped closed. Akhil’s eyes turned bright pink, and for an awful moment Amina thought he might start crying, but he said nothing else.

“You think I don’t
like
you?” Thomas asked, almost laughing, but then he stopped, a deer in the forest listening to an unwelcome stillness. He looked from Akhil to Kamala to Amina.

“You think I don’t like you?” he asked them.

No one answered. The question blew through the kitchen, over Akhil’s pained eyes and crossed arms, brushing a stray strand of hair from Kamala’s furrowed head, and finally pressing against the base of Amina’s throat, so that even if she could have figured out what to say, she wouldn’t have been able to say it.

Thomas’s head dipped. He took his plate to the sink and stood in front of it, his silhouette buzzing in the fluorescent light.

“Someone has to work,” he said quietly.

Amina looked at the table, its glaze of crumbs and splotches, the arced footprint of oil left from a jar of mango pickle. From the corner of her eye, she saw her father lean heavily into the kitchen counter.

“You need to get the testing,” Kamala said.

“What?” Akhil asked.

“You do.”

“Mom, you
just
said—”

“And now I am saying different.”

“Based on
what
?” Akhil said, spit flying across the table. “Dad? His fucking … 
patriarchy
? You’re just going to sit there and take it like some goddamn pushover? IT’S THE 1980s, MOM. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO HAVE YOUR OWN OPINION.”

Kamala shut her eyes and exhaled slowly, as if to expunge every last trace of the sentence. “No driving until you do.”

“What?”

“It’s not safe.”

“Since when?”

“Since now.” Kamala stood up from the table, her eyes scanning the living room, then marched to the couch, where Akhil’s backpack lay.

“Wait!” Akhil shot up. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“I want the keys.”

“No! I mean, you don’t have to take them. I won’t drive. I promise. I swear.”

“Then it won’t matter that you don’t have the keys.”

“But when do I get them back?”

Kamala hovered over the bag, looked at her husband.