If Today Be Sweet (20 page)

The doorbell rang just as she hung up and for a second she froze in horror. Surely that was Tara. She must have returned home while Tehmina was on the phone, and figured out that her sons were being held hostage at the house next door. Tehmina felt sick to her stomach. She knew she had no right to hold on to those boys. But she also knew, as sure as she knew anything, that Tara had no right to those boys either, that she had forfeited the exquisite privilege of motherhood with her cruelty and brutality. And that there was no way she, Tehmina, was giving up those boys to Tara without a fight.

“Granna,” she heard the beloved voice yell, “hurry up and open the door. It's cold out here.”

She felt as if she could pass out in relief. Of course. It was Cookie, returning home from his playdate at Bill Steinberg's house. But on her way to the door, she stopped, struck by another thought: under no circumstances could she let Mary Steinberg, who was undoubtedly dropping Cookie off, into the house. “Coming,” she yelled, but crept back into the kitchen.

“You know how to play police-police?” she asked the startled boys, and when they shook their heads no, “When I say ‘freeze,' you just stop whatever you're doing and freeze in that position. You can't move or talk or anything. Okay, let's play a practice round. You can't move until I say ‘unfreeze,' okay?”

She saw Jerome eye the last of his sandwich with regret, but both boys sat as still as statues while she pulled the kitchen door shut and headed to the foyer. She opened the door on Cookie and Mary, their faces red with waiting in the cold. “Sorry, sorry,” she said. “I was in the middle of something. So much work to do, getting ready for Christmas and all. I'm sure you understand.”

Mary laughed lightly. “Well, we don't exactly celebrate Christmas. But I do know what you mean.” She made a slight movement
as if to follow Cookie into the house. “Do you need help with anything?”

Tehmina didn't loosen her grip on the front door. Nor did she concede an inch of ground. “Oh, God, no. Just stuff I have to do myself.” She held Cookie by the shoulder and moved him toward her so that he was blocking Mary's path also. “And now that Cookie's home I have one less thing to worry about. Thanks so much for dropping him off, Mary.”

“Oh, yeah. No problem.” Mary was looking at her strangely. “Well, okay. I guess I should get back home, anyway.” She bent toward Cookie. “Bye, little guy. You come over for a playdate soon, you understand?”

Cookie nodded. “Oh. I forgot to tell Billy. Can you tell him I'm going to get a Pneumatic Power Destroyer for Christmas?” He glanced at his grandmother. “At least, I hope so.”

They stood in the doorway until Mary Steinberg got into her car and drove away. Then Tehmina turned toward her grandson. “Ae, Cookie,” she said. “We have some company.”

“Company?” Cookie asked. “Who? Who is it?”

“All right, calm down, calm down. They're in the kitchen. It's Jerome and Josh from next door.”

“Jerome and Joshy? Yeeeeaaaaaaah.” Cookie went tearing into the kitchen.

“Unfreeze,” Tehmina said, and Jerome immediately put the last of his sandwich into this mouth.

“Hey. Did you come over for a playdate?” Cookie asked. Then, noticing Joshua's bruised and swollen face, “Hey, what happened to you, Joshy?”

“My mommy whupped me.”

Cookie stared at him without comprehension. “You mean, you fell?” he asked at last.

Jerome banged his hand on the kitchen table. “No, he means our
mamma whupped him. She beat us for being bad.” His face was red and ugly with rage. He also looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

“Boys,” Tehmina said. “No shouting, please. We must all be quiet. And think. Think.” She looked around the room and saw three young faces staring back at her, looking to her for guidance, looking to her to make sense out of their lives. She did not feel up to the task. I'm as confused as you are, she wanted to say to them. I don't know what to do any more than you do. Instead, noticing the teary look on her grandson's face, she barked, “Cookie. I want you to go up to your room and wash your face. All dirty you are.”

“But, Granna, I took a bath this morning,” the boy protested.

“I don't care—” she began when she was interrupted by a giggle. It was Josh.

“All dirty you are,” he repeated, wriggling up his nose.

Cookie flashed his grandmother a now-look-what-you've-done glare. But he headed toward his room, stomping all the way up the stairs to make his displeasure known.

Tehmina sat down abruptly. This whole thing was getting away from her, like a ball of yarn that rolled and unraveled on the floor. How foolish she had been in thinking she could do something to help these poor boys. Apart from feeding them a grilled cheese sandwich and giving them a few gifts at Christmastime, there was little she could do for them. She could not protect them from their mother's wrath and ignorance. She could not save them from their destiny. She thought of all the years she had volunteered at the orphanage in Bombay, how she and the other Parsi ladies had held fund-raisers and bake sales to raise money. She remembered the abandoned infants she had cradled in her arms, the toddlers she had bathed and dressed during her weekly visits to the center. Had she altered or saved a single life because of her efforts? Probably not. Sure, she had brought a little comfort, a little cheer to some of the children
there. But that was the extent of it. It was she who had gained the most, she who had left there each week feeling richer, wiser. And that was the point of it—she had left at the end of each visit. Gone back to her home, reentered the life that she had with her husband and her son. And so it would be with these two boys sitting in front of her, looking as sad as a lost wallet. The wallet didn't belong to her; she would have to return it to its unworthy but rightful owner.

She was debating how to frame her words, what to say to the boys, when Cookie sauntered back into the room. One look at his dirt-streaked face told her that he had not done her bidding. “Did you wash your face like I asked you to?” she said.

“No, I didn't, Granna. I was busy,” Cookie said importantly.

“Busy? Busy doing what?”

Cookie glanced at Jerome and Josh and then lowered his voice. “I just called 911.”

Y
ou did, what?” Tehmina cried in disbelief.

“I just called 911,” Cookie repeated. Then, looking at her aghast face, “That's what we are taught to do in school, if a grown-up hits a kid.”

Jerome jumped up off the chair. “You crazy fool,” he yelled. “What you go do that for? Now my mommy is going to be real mad. She's gonna kick my ass for sure.” He turned and grabbed his younger brother's arm. “Come on, Joshy. We're going home.”

Joshy began to cry. “I don't wanna go home,” he sobbed. “I wanna stay here with this lady. She's nice.” He looked at Tehmina with his big, wet eyes. “Can I have some more potato chips?”

Tehmina looked at the three upturned faces looking to her to make the next move. “Okay,” she said more loudly than she'd intended. “Calm down. Everybody just calm down. We need to think.” She turned to Jerome. “Nobody's leaving this house until I say so. Understand? Now I want you children to sit quietly while I…I…make a phone call.”

Throwing her grandson a helpless glance, Tehmina walked back into the living room. She really had to get hold of Sorab now, now that Cookie had done such a foolish thing. She had picked up the receiver when she heard the front doorbell ring. Oh my God, surely they couldn't be here already. She stood still for a second, the phone receiver still in her hand, when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. It was Cookie darting from the kitchen toward the front door. Before she could stop him, he had opened the door and three policemen, two in uniform and one in regular clothes, were walking in.

She hung up. “I'm afraid there's been a mistake,” she said, forcing her face into a smile. “My grandson misunderstood the situation and—”

The tall officer with the red hair stopped looking around the room and focused on her. “Good afternoon,” he said evenly. “I'm Officer Bruce and this here is my partner, Officer Curtis. And this is Luke Johnson, from the
Daily Mirror.
He's trailing us for the day. And you are the owner of this house?”

“Yes. No. I mean, I'm visiting my son. From India.” Tehmina knew she was sounding flustered and tried to control her emotions.

“I see. And you name is, ma'am?”

“Tehmina Sethna. Though I also go by Tammy.”

After he had made her spell out her name, Bruce looked up from his notebook and frowned at her. “Okay, Mrs. Sethna. What have we got here? Seems like we got a call that there was some trouble with a neighbor, ma'am? You heard the mother beating up on her kids?”

Tehmina desperately wished that Sorab and Susan were home right now. How did one talk to police officers in America? she wondered. “Well, she wasn't exactly…that is, I mean, you know, I didn't really see anything—”

“They're here,” Cookie yelled. “In the kitchen. And Joshy has a big, fat bruise from where his mommy beat him.”

The two officers exchanged glances and Tehmina saw the third man flip open a notebook and take one step toward her. “They're here?” Officer Curtis said. “How'd they get to your house? Did they run away or something?”

Tehmina gulped hard. She could feel her face redden. What did an American jail look like? she wondered. Surely it didn't have rats in it, like Indian jails did. She was deathly afraid of rats. “I went and got them,” she stammered. “After their mother left in her car. I—I was worried. Just wanted to make sure they were okay. And when I saw the little one bleeding, I just, I just wanted to bring them here and cheer them up. You know, give them some food and hot cocoa.”

Officer Curtis smiled slightly and the mood in the room visibly changed. But he immediately grew serious again. “Is the mother back home? Does she know her kids are here?”

“I haven't heard the car return yet. It's loud—a loose muffler maybe?—and I've been listening for it.”

“I bet you have,” Officer Bruce muttered under his breath, but Tehmina heard him and wondered what he meant. Would they charge her with kidnapping? If so, how would Susan and Sorab ever live it down? Had she jeopardized her children's future by her rash act? And how would Persis and all the rest of them in India react to the news?

“Well, let's go see the kids, shall we?” Curtis said, and they all headed for the kitchen, an excited Cookie leading the way.

Tehmina saw Jerome flinch when the policemen entered the kitchen. She noticed that Josh had helped himself to more potato chips.

“Howdy, boys,” Curtis said, his voice low and calm. He ruffled Joshua's hair. “Seems like quite a shiner you have here, kiddo. What happened?”

“My mommy hit us. For staying out in the cold instead of coming
in and washing the dishes like we was s'pposed to. Oww,” he yelled as Jerome pinched his arm. “What you do that for?”

Jerome glared at him and then turned to the officers. “He's lying,” he said. “He just fell down and hurt himself.”

“I see.” Curtis chewed on his lower lip. “And where's your mom now, kiddo? She at home?”

“Naw,” Jerome replied. “She's with her boyfriend.”

Tehmina saw Curtis shoot a warning look at his partner. “Uhhuh.” His voice was friendly, noncommittal. “She do that often? Leave you alone at home?”

“Not often. Just sometimes, when she needs something.”

“When she needs to get away from us,” Josh said guilelessly, and the innocence in his voice tore at Tehmina's heart. She sensed rather than saw that the boy's words had affected the other adults the same way.

Officer Curtis smiled gently and put his arm around Josh. “Why would she need to get away from you, big guy?” he asked.

“Because I'm trouble. I drive her crazy.” In amazement, Tehmina noticed that Josh was bragging, that there was some kind of misguided pride in his words.

“So what does she do when you're driving her crazy?” Curtis's voice was soft, low, like a well-oiled motor.

“She whups—” Josh bit down on his tongue and glanced anxiously at his older brother for guidance. “I fell down and hurt my lip,” he said.

Officer Curtis straightened and Tehmina noticed the glint in his gray eyes. “Well, let's walk over to your house and have a look around, shall we?” he said. He stopped, as if struck by a thought. “How'd you get in the front door, ma'am?” he asked. “Did the mother leave it unlocked? Or did the kids let you in?”

Tehmina stared at him. She moved her mouth but no words came. She caught the narrowing of the officer's eyes as he waited for an
answer. Oh my God, he thinks I'm lying or hiding something, she thought.

“I jumped,” she blurted out. “Over the fence. That is, in the backyard. I—I didn't want to go up the front driveway. Too many prying eyes, you see.”

Now it was the officers' turn to stare at her. “You jumped over a fence? In this weather?” Officer Bruce asked. His glance said what he was too polite to say—
with this middle-aged, unathletic body?

The third man, who had been writing furiously in his notebook, spoke for the first time. “I say, I'd like to see the fence.”

Officer Bruce chuckled. “I bet you would.” He turned to Tehmina. “Do you mind showing us how you did it, ma'am?”

Tehmina felt her face burning with shame as she opened the glass sliding doors and stood on the deck. The chair was still where she had left it. She pointed to it, a pleading look in her eyes. “I stood on that,” she said. “And then, you know, jumped over.”

The officer with the notebook—who Tehmina now noticed was merely a young man, barely in his twenties—burst out laughing. “But that's fantastic,” he said. “Wish I'd had a picture of that.”

Tehmina blushed. Was this youngster laughing at her? But the boy, who Tehmina assumed was a plainsclothes officer, had a face that was open, guileless, and Tehmina noticed that his eyes shone when he looked at her.

Curtis cleared his throat. “Well, I won't ask you for a reenactment, ma'am,” he said, and this time she heard the smile in his voice. “But that's quite a feat you accomplished.” He was peering over the fence. “How old did you say you were, again?”

“Sixty-six,” Tehmina said, and from the expression on their faces, she might as well have told them she was two hundred.

The December wind bit at them again and Tehmina shivered. Noticing this, the young man looked away from his notebook and said, “Damn cold day, even with no snow. We'd better go inside.”
This time, there was no mistaking the friendliness he threw her way. She was glad. Officers Bruce and Curtis were polite and courteous, but there was something distant and wooden about them. Maybe it was their close-cropped hair. Maybe it was their rock-hard bodies and erect postures that made them look robotlike. In contrast, the young man, dressed in jeans and a woolen pullover, looked small, human-scaled, approachable. She smiled back at him.

Once inside, she ordered Cookie up to her room. The little one had already seen enough. She braced herself for an argument, but Officer Curtis turned to the boy and told him he was deputizing him to go up to his room and keep guard. To her amazement, Cookie turned around and left the kitchen without saying another word.

The young man with the notebook sat at the kitchen bar with Josh and Jerome and spoke to them in his low, pleasant voice. Even though he wrote nonstop in his notebook, he kept his eyes focused on the two boys. Tehmina wanted to join them but she was aware of the other two officers huddled together near the glass doors. Whatever they were discussing, she wanted to make sure she heard. She hovered at their periphery for a few moments, and then Officer Bruce turned toward her. “Right,” he said, as if continuing a conversation. “So here's what we're gonna do, ma'am. Curtis here will take the boys to the Children's Services home while I wait for the mother to return.”

Tehmina felt her stomach drop. “What do you mean? Take the boys to Children's Services?” she whispered. “What exactly is that?”

Officer Bruce raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by her question. “Well, ma'am, we're going to have to place the mother under arrest. And obviously those boys can't stay by themselves. So we need to get the ball rolling—you know, see if there's a relative that we can place them with temporarily. That's the way things are done in this country,” he added.

Tehmina looked around for a chair, not sure that she could trust her legs to support her any longer. She shut her eyes. Please let them be gone when I open my eyes, she prayed. Please let this all be a bad dream.

“Would you like a drink of water, ma'am?” Officer Curtis was saying when she opened her eyes.

She struggled to find her composure. “No, no thanks,” she replied. “It's just that—you see, I never intended to get Tara in trouble. And those boys love their mother, you see, and if you take them away, I don't know what…I just feel so terrible with all this.”

“Miss Tammy.” It was the young man with the notebook, who had left the kids and was now standing behind her. “You really shouldn't feel bad about any of this, ma'am. You're—why, you're a hero. Not too many Americans would've done what you just did, ma'am, I can tell you that.”

But that's just the trouble, Tehmina thought, seeing Susan's disapproving face before her eyes. I've acted like a typical Indian—interfering and poking my nose in things that are not my business.

She turned to the other two senior officers in desperation. “Can we—can we just forget about this whole thing? I mean, I didn't even call you, you know. That was my grandson and he—he made a mistake.”

Curtis smiled sadly. “On the contrary, ma'am. He did exactly the right thing.”

“Just as you did,” the young man added fiercely. Despite her confusion, Tehmina heard the fierceness in his voice, his fervent need to believe, and was flattered and irritated all at once.

“Okay,” Officer Curtis said in his take-charge voice. “I'm afraid we're wasting time here. We want to get the boys removed before Mom gets home. And with it being Christmas Eve and all, all the paperwork's gonna take twice as long as usual.” He walked to where Josh and Jerome sat across from Cookie.

“Okay, boys.” He smiled. “We're going for a ride. Ever ridden in a police cruiser before?”

“Whee!” Josh said, but Jerome stared at the officer, a sullen expression on his face.

“Where're we going?” he said.

Officer Curtis was sweating ever so slightly. “We're going for a car ride, son,” he said. “And then you're going to spend the night with some nice people, okay? You got any relatives around here?”

Suddenly Tehmina found her voice. “They can stay here,” she said. She would deal with Susan's anger, she told herself.

Officer Curtis appeared irritated. “No can do, lady,” he said shortly. “There's procedure that I have to follow.” He turned back to the boys. “Maybe there's a favorite relative you'd like to spend Christmas with?”

“They have an uncle,” Tehmina said. “He's—that is, that's his house, next door. He and his wife now live in—” She couldn't remember the name of the place Antonio had moved to. “Wait. We have his phone number in our book.” She rushed out of the room, unable to look either boy in the eye.

When she returned, Curtis was standing near the front door with the two boys. Whatever he had said to them while she was away had obviously broken down the last of Jerome's resistance. “Here it is,” she said, handing over the slip of paper she'd written Antonio's information on.

Jerome scowled. “Stupid bitch,” he said, looking her straight in the eye, and Tehmina flinched as if he had landed a well-placed blow on her jaw. Her eyes immediately filled with tears of guilt and hurt and something else—some sense of sympathy and pity for Jerome. For having caused his current situation. For not having been there for him early enough to prevent him from turning into the kind of boy who would talk like this to his elders.