Realm of the Goddess (3 page)

“Callie,” she said, her voice several octaves higher than usual. “I’m so glad you’re home. You’ll never guess who I met.”

I could guess. She’d met another Indian family and had invited them to dinner. And they had a son who was around my age and, oh my, it was all so exciting.

“I met the nicest couple at the store today...you know that new Indian store around the corner from Starbucks? I was just buying some mangoes and cilantro...I thought Dad could make mango salsa for dinner...what was I saying...oh yes, the couple that I met, they just moved here from California a week ago. But they’re actually from Kolkata. So of course I said that they simply had to come over for dinner, and they said this Saturday would be good.”

My head was reeling. My mother tended to go off on several tangents during a single conversation. It was hard not to get entangled in her excitement about the new couple, the new store and my dad’s mango salsa. I looked at her affectionately. She was a lot to handle after a long day, but there was something very infectious about her enthusiasm for...well, just about anything. She was like that about the course in Eastern mythologies she taught at the University of Washington. There was always a waiting list for the course, and whenever she had students over for her monthly Mythology Club dinners, I could tell that they were enthralled by everything she said. There was something about her, her skin the color of a mocha latte, her long, black hair, usually knotted up in a stylish bun at the base of her neck, and her dark eyes, always intense as if they could see right through a person. But I’d always felt it was her accent that gave her an air of mystery. Her education in one of Kolkata’s most prestigious schools had left her with a refined accent when she spoke in English, and my grandparents’ love of Bengali literature made her equally enchanting when she spoke in her mother tongue.

I watched her now, getting dinner ready while my dad was making his delicious mango salsa. I liked to watch them together. There was something about the way they moved together, like two parts of a well-oiled machine. Their movements were almost choreographed, as if one could read the other’s mind, knowing what their next move would be. They worked perfectly in unison, maneuvering around the kitchen, never bumping into one another as they went about emptying and refilling the dishwasher, getting ingredients out of the refrigerator, putting dishes away. In less than half an hour dinner was ready and we were sitting in our respective recliners. We weren’t really a family that ate at the table. When we had first moved to Seattle my mom had gone back to school for her doctorate, and dinners were usually something from the freezer that could be heated up in the oven and eaten in the family room while my mom worked on her thesis. But somehow she’d always made time for me, asking me who my new friends were, inviting them over for cookies and ice cream and throwing the best Halloween parties ever. Over the years eating in the family room had become our thing. That and watching
American Idol
. My mom and I loved the show, and my dad had long ago given up trying to get us to watch football instead.

Now as we ate my mom continued gushing about the new Indian family. In the back of my mind I already knew this must be Shiv’s family, and of course I was right. A few minutes later she casually brought up the fact that this new couple happened to have a son and wondered if I had seen him at my school yet.

“Actually, Mom, I hit him in the head with my locker door at lunchtime today,” I said nonchalantly, as if violence was just a regular part of my daily routine. I waited a few seconds for this to sink in. And then it all started. My dad just grinned as he calmly ate his chips and salsa while my mom unleashed a torrent of horror at having a clumsy daughter. She calmed down only after I told her he was very nice to me afterwards and that I had made up for it by showing him around. Somewhat mollified, she began to plan what kinds of Indian sweets we could bring them as a welcome gift, which, of course, I would walk over to their house later that evening. I hadn’t been planning to tell her about the whole Burke situation, but I couldn’t think of a better way to distract her. So I threw myself under the bus.

“Mom, Dad...there’s a problem at school,” I started. I could literally see their ears perk up. When it came to school, my parents were über-involved.

“What kind of problem, Callie?” my dad said. “Is everything on track with your university applications?” He was very keen for me to attend his alma mater, UW, where he taught anthropology.

“Yes, that’s all fine. But Mr. Burke is giving me a hard time. He says my mark is dropping and that I have to stay after school to do extra credit work.”

I was hoping they would feel as indignant as I did, but I had no such luck.

“Well, if that’s what needs to be done, then just do it,” said my dad, ever the voice of reason. My mom looked a little miffed, but I could tell from her lack of argument that she basically agreed.

“I’ll have to cut back on my tutoring hours and also my volunteering,” I mentioned, hoping that they would realize just how much this would cramp my style. I volunteered at the local retirement home, and I hoped my mother would find it unacceptable that the sweet old ladies there should be deprived of my awesome company. Also, I wouldn’t have time to watch
Vampire Diaries
, which I religiously recorded so I could watch at night. Of course, I didn’t say that out loud. It wouldn’t do anything to help my case.

I was not disappointed. My mother took the bait and said, “Why don’t I go and meet with him next week to see if he can’t let you bring the work home?” She turned to my dad. “Paul, you’re off early on Wednesdays, why don’t you come with me?” Dad mumbled something about catching the game on his only evening off, but my mom had selective hearing when it suited her. Either way, I was happy. Hopefully Mr. Burke would get off my back.

“Thanks, Mom, you’re the best. I have to work on my essay now, and I have tons of math homework too,” I said as I jumped out of my chair, gave both my parents a hug and bounded up the stairs before my mom remembered the sweets.

The next day was pretty uneventful. Shiv and I talked about our parents meeting and rolled our eyes as we commiserated on how embarrassing they could be. Ben came and started talking to me at length about an English essay he was having a hard time with. I found this very suspicious since he wasn’t taking English this semester. He ignored the pointed looks I was giving him to hint that I would like to be alone with Shiv. Finally he left, giving me a chance to get some more information out of Shiv.

“So, Shiv, how long did you live in California?” I asked, hoping it would lead to some subtle follow-up questions. Unfortunately, subtlety was not my strong suit.

“We just stayed there for six months,” he said. “My dad was supposed to be in charge of a project there, but it didn’t work out the way he’d hoped.” Just then the bell rang for the next period. We both had chemistry, so we walked down the hall together to our class.

“What about you? What made your family move here from Kolkata?” So much for my follow-up questions. I gave him the same rehearsed answer I’d been giving whenever someone asked me that.

“My dad got a teaching position here and my mom wanted to go back to school. Plus my dad grew up here, and after spending so many years in India, they thought it was time for a change.” For some reason I felt guilty about lying to him. But then what would I have said? That I started to have these insanely graphic nightmares and was beginning to lose it, so my parents got scared and relocated us? I could just picture seeing the back of his head as he ran away if he ever found out. Luckily, we had reached the class and chemistry kept us busy for the next hour.

That Saturday, Shiv and his parents came to our house for dinner. My mom had been like a whirlwind all day, cooking up a storm. My dad and I spent the day driving back and forth from the store because she kept forgetting one thing or the other. After the third trip he planted himself on the kitchen stool and said he would help her with whatever she needed to get things ready for that evening, but he refused to go to the store one more time.

My mom was making all my favorite dishes. There was succulent shrimp swimming in fragrant coconut milk, grilled spicy eggplant, basmati rice studded with peas and carrots and a cooling yoghurt and cucumber salad. Then of course there was the sweet yellow rice that my mom only made on special occasions. I loved the pretty edible silver paper she used as a garnish. And it was accompanied by the traditional Indian rice pudding I could never keep my hands off.

They arrived around seven. Shiv grinned at me conspiratorially behind our parents’ backs. I was glad they had come. Even though I had only met Shiv a few days ago, it felt like we’d known one another much longer. I was very comfortable around him, which was good because I was pretty sure that I was developing a major crush. I looked around for him at school whenever we didn’t have classes together. Usually I talked to Ben about my crushes, but the last few days, whenever I met up with Ben in our usual place, Shiv would join us and I got the distinct feeling that Ben did not like him. Plus I’d been busy with my extra after school work, so I hadn’t had any time to spend alone with Ben. Either way, I figured he would just get over it. I had misgivings about many of the girls that Ben had dated in the past, and I always managed to keep my most negative thoughts to myself. Things had a way of working themselves out where Ben was concerned.

I looked at Shiv now, sitting in our living room with his parents. He looked a lot like his dad, Dev. The same dark skin, curly hair and intense brown eyes. His mother, Nina, was a total contrast. She was petite, with delicate features and black hair that hung down her back in a long braid. It was a nice evening. Our parents got along really well and Shiv and I talked about our years in Kolkata. It turned out we had acquaintances in common, but Shiv had been there more recently, so he updated me on some of them. Nina asked to use the washroom, and after I showed her where it was, I went upstairs to grab some old pictures of my school friends in Kolkata. As I was coming back down the stairs I could hear voices floating up. I didn’t pay much attention until I heard my name. I stopped on the third step and listened, not sure what I was eavesdropping on.

“She has to find out sometime,” Nina was saying. Then I heard Dev’s reply and it chilled me to the bone.

“She might not make it, Nina. You know what happened to the other girls.”

I must have shifted my weight from one foot to the other because the stair I was on squeaked and Nina’s head shot out from around the corner.

“Oh, there you are, dear,” she said, showing no signs that anything strange was going on. “We were wondering where you’d gone off to.”

“Umm...I was just getting this to show Shiv,” I said, holding out the album and trying hard not to let any panic show on my face.

“Oh, let me see,” Nina said, taking the album out of my hand. “Are these photos from your school in Kolkata?” She turned to Dev, who was watching me with a strange expression. “Dev, look...maybe Shiv will know some of the kids in here. Such a small world.” I didn’t know how much longer I could stay calm. I just wanted them to leave so I could tell my parents what I’d overheard. I went to the kitchen, where my mom was getting the dessert tray ready.

“Mom...I need to —” I began, but my mom cut me off.

“Oh good, Callie, you’re here,” she said without looking up from the dish of rice pudding she was garnishing with raisins and pistachios. “Come help me with the
chai
.”

When I didn’t respond, she looked up. Whatever I was feeling must have been on my face, because the next minute she was by my side.

“Callie, honey, what’s wrong? You look so pale? Are you feeling alright?”

She looked so worried that I decided not to say anything for the moment. I didn’t want her to start asking too many questions. I didn’t want her to find out about my nightmares either. When I first started having them in Kolkata, my parents had been very stressed about me. I didn’t want them to go through all that again. I hoped that maybe all this was happening because it was a stressful time waiting to hear back about scholarships and university admissions. I was sure the nightmares would go away once I knew what I would be doing after high school. So I lied now and put on a brave face. I would talk to Shiv later and see if I could find out what his parents were talking about.

“I’m fine, Mom,” I said, smiling and giving her a hug. “I just have a headache, that’s all.” I started putting the teacups my mom had inherited from my grandmother on the silver tray that was part of the set. As a little girl I used to love having pretend tea parties with my cousins, and my grandmother would always let me use her fancy tea set. When my mom protested that I might break something, my grandmother would always tell her that the teacups weren’t as important as seeing her granddaughter enjoy herself. I loved my sweet grandmother and I made sure to be extra careful with the cups. I never did break a single one, and when we left Kolkata, she insisted we take it with us. My mom didn’t use it very often, but when she did it always brought back sweet memories of my grandmother, in her white sari and the little gray bun at the nape of her neck. She would tell me stories of gods and goddesses, and when I first started having nightmares, she told me that maybe I was a little goddess myself and that the dreams were just memories of my past lives.

When we walked back into the living room, my dad was telling them the story about how he’d met my mom, as a graduate research assistant in Kolkata. Nothing looked amiss. Shiv’s parents seemed to be having a great time. Shiv looked up as I walked in with the tray and got up to help me. I started to think that maybe I had imagined the whole thing. I was sleep-deprived, after all.