The Story Hour (16 page)

She forced herself to remember how easily Lakshmi had passed the written exam to get her temporary license. Her reading comprehension was much better than her spoken English. Maggie had driven her to the DMV and had sat nervously in the waiting room while Lakshmi took her test. Maggie had not expected her to pass her first time, let alone do as well as she had done. Lakshmi, however, didn't seem surprised at all. So be supportive, Maggie told herself. There's nothing stupid about this woman.

But the next second, the car made an awful scraping noise and Maggie's good intentions went out the window. She jerked around to see that Lakshmi was turning the ignition even though the car was already running. “Stop that,” she yelled, smacking Lakshmi's hand to knock it away.

The noise stopped abruptly as Lakshmi's hand fell into her lap. It was replaced by a stunned silence as a startled Lakshmi stared at Maggie. Already, her nose was turning red.

“Oh, shit,” Maggie said. “I'm sorry. I just reacted to the sound of the car. . . . You don't turn the key when the car is already on. It can damage it. You understand?”

Lakshmi gulped hard and nodded. These driving lessons are no more fun for her than they are for you, Maggie reminded herself. She sighed. She was distracted today. She had begun seeing Peter again, despite repeatedly telling him that their affair couldn't continue. Each time he'd nod and say that he understood. And then, two days later, there would be a text or an email from him asking to see her. And being a weak, contemptible idiot, she would find herself driving to his house, practicing her speech of how this was the final time they would be meeting, how she really meant it, how much she loved her husband. Peter would be waiting for her and she would recite her practiced speech and he would nod solemnly and he would kiss her and . . .

God. Was it her, or was it hot in this car? Maggie's hand involuntarily went toward the air conditioner knob, but Lakshmi said in a pleading voice, “Please, Maggie, I's cold.”

Maggie gritted her teeth. She should've insisted that Sudhir give Lakshmi driving lessons. He was so much more patient than she was. What Lakshmi and Sudhir had said about Lakshmi's husband being upset if she was riding around with a strange man—well, they were lying to him anyway, right? Instead of being at therapy, this was what she and Lakshmi had done the last three weeks. What was the damn difference who taught her to drive?

“Maggie? What you need me to do?” Lakshmi's voice was tentative, shaky, and hearing it, Maggie felt a pang of guilt.

“Let's just drive around the parking lot a few times,” she said gruffly. “I want you to focus on keeping the steering wheel steady.” As always, the car took off like a shot. “Easy,” Maggie said, trying to keep her voice even. “Don't step on the gas so hard.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“It's okay. Now concentrate.” She reached over and steadied the wheel. “Why are you jerking the wheel? You want to keep it straight, like so. Nice and easy.”

They circled the lot a few times, Lakshmi gripping the wheel tight, her entire body stiff and scared. “Relax your shoulders,” Maggie murmured. “No need to take the corners that hard. The car should glide into a turn.”

Lakshmi appeared to be heading straight for the lamppost. Maggie tried to gauge the distance from the car to the post, forced down the tension she was feeling, wanting to trust Lakshmi, not wanting to point out the obvious but unsure whether she would have to replace her front fender. At the last second, just as a yell was forming in her throat, Lakshmi threw the car to the right, yanking the steering wheel dramatically, as if enacting a car chase from a movie. Then she slammed on the brakes.

Maggie bit down on her lip to suppress the rage she was feeling. She was aware of Lakshmi staring at her, expecting to be chastised, but she looked away, waiting for her heart to slow down and her anger to recede. When neither happened, she said in a clipped voice, “Are you daydreaming? Or did you not happen to notice the twelve-foot pole in front of you?”

“I sorry, sorry. I not wanting to learn the driving. It not happen for me. My husband telling truth—I am maharani of stupid.” Lakshmi banged her head forcefully against the steering wheel.

“Lakshmi. Stop that.” Maggie was shocked at the violence with which the woman had struck her head. To lighten the mood, she added, “You'll crack the steering wheel with that hard head of yours.” Lakshmi did not so much as pretend to get the joke. Maggie put her hand on the younger woman's head and stroked her hair. “Come on, now. Everybody finds it hard at first. It's like anything else, you know? You gotta stick with it.” Even as she said the words, Maggie began to believe them, and for the first time this afternoon, she felt hopeful that Lakshmi could learn to drive. She felt her own bad mood lift, buoyed by that hope.

Lakshmi raised her head. “I having something to tell you,” she said. “A secret.”

Maggie sighed to herself. All she wanted was for this lesson to be over so she could go home and lie on her couch. With a nice cold rag on her head. “Okay,” she said.

“I try to learn the driving before. The husband teach me first year I come to Am'rica.”

Maggie raised her eyebrow. “Really? How come you didn't—”

“Because I embarrass to tell you,” Lakshmi said in a rush. “I failing, you see. The husband doing so much shouting-shouting, I get ascare. He not kindly like you, Maggie. After few time, he give up. Say I too stupid to learn.”

Maggie was surprised—and flattered—to hear that Lakshmi thought she was being kind. Goes to show how low the bar is, she thought. “Well, you can't give up now,” she said. “Just imagine how much freedom this is going to give you. Look how far you've already come. You want to build a catering and housecleaning business, yes? Think how much time you'll save not having to take the bus.”

“I knows. I knows. That's why only I was so excite to learn.”

“And you will,” Maggie said firmly. “Listen, in Calcutta, all those auto rickshaw drivers and taxi drivers, you think they have the schooling you do? No, they are total duffers.” She was aware that she was slipping into a kind of Indian English, trying to talk to Lakshmi in a way she would understand. “And they all drive, no? If they can learn, why can't you?”

Lakshmi looked surprised. “You sits in rickshaw, Maggie?”

“Yes, of course.” She didn't want the conversation to veer off topic. She knew how tired and frustrated both of them were, how easy it would be for them to drift onto some other, comfortable subject, like her visits to Calcutta. Maybe go get an iced coffee somewhere, she thought dreamily. She forced herself to sit up in the seat. “Come on,” she said. “A few more rounds. Next week you'll be ready to drive on the road.”

Lakshmi squealed in horror. “No, Maggie. I too ascare. No driving on roadside. Not after last week.”

“You are scared? What about me?”

The two women eyed each other and then emitted nervous giggles. Last week Maggie had urged Lakshmi to venture out of the school parking lot and onto the residential side street. Lakshmi had sat at the edge of the parking lot, screwing up her nerve, and then shot out into the street—into the left lane. “Jesus, Lakshmi. Stop,” Maggie had screamed, even though there had been no oncoming traffic. “You're in the wrong lane. This isn't India. We drive on the right side here. You know that. Now, pull into this driveway and turn around. Jesus.” Lakshmi had been so flustered that she'd been unable to put the car in reverse and back out of the driveway, and Maggie had taken over.

Now, remembering, Maggie said, “I think I lost five years of my life last week.”

“That's why only I don't want to drive on the roadside, Maggie.”

“Okay, then. You just go everywhere driving from one parking lot to another. Maybe you can drive all the way to India someday in that way.”

Lakshmi giggled. “You big joke-master, Maggie.”

“Okay. Enough dilly-dallying. Drive.”

“Dilly-dawllying?”

“Dilly-dallying. It means wasting time. Like you're doing right now.”

“Dilly-dallying. Dilly-dallying.” Lakshmi repeated the words out loud as if they were a mantra. And maybe they focused her mind, because Maggie noticed she was driving better.

S
ATURDAY
. M
AGGIE'S FAVORITE
day of the week. And here they were, ushering in the weekend with her favorite activity. She and Sudhir had been coming for open swim to the campus pool every Saturday for at least the past six years. As she closed her eyes and floated on her back, Maggie felt the sun on her face, filtered through the large skylight, and the tight muscles in her aching neck sang and blessed her as they released. Around her, she heard the muffled sounds of the Carpenters' “For All We Know,” the distant screams of the kids splashing in the shallow end, felt the disturbance in the water that the other swimmers created. None of it bothered her or even registered. This was her time. The intrusions of the world, its clatter and chatter, would have to wait. The lapping water, the cathedral ceiling, the sun pouring in through the skylights: Maggie felt as if she had waited all week for this moment, that she'd earned it. For one merciful hour, she could silence her thoughts, as if switching off an alarm clock. What took their place was a blissful, precious calm.

She had floated to the side of the pool when Sudhir caught up with her. “Hey,” he said, shaking the water out of his hair.

She noticed his skin glistening in the water and felt a proprietary pleasure at the sight. “Hi, honey,” she said. “You headed for the hot tub?”

“Not yet. I'll swim a few more laps, I think. But I was wondering—you wanna go to that Chinese place for lunch?”

“And regain whatever few calories I've burned? You know how long I've been trying to lose the last ten pounds?”

Sudhir's eyes darkened as they took in the long neck, the muscular arms. “You look pretty damn good to me.”

She grinned. “Well said, honey. I've trained you well.”

He began to smile back at her, but a second later, his eyes narrowed as they focused on something—or someone—past her. “Oh, great,” he muttered, and Maggie turned her head to look. The sun was in her eyes, but the next minute, her stomach lurched as she recognized the swimmer. It was Peter. Of all the dumb coincidences . . . But then she knew. Peter's being here was no coincidence.

“Why, hello,” Peter said in a voice that sounded dangerously insincere to Maggie's ears. “Wow. What are you guys doing here?”

“Hello,” Sudhir said stiffly. “I didn't realize you were back in town.”

“Oh yes. They gave me a visiting position for the year. How are you . . . It's Sudhir, right?”

“Right. And this is my wife, Maggie. I'm sure you remember her.” Maggie heard some inflection in Sudhir's voice but couldn't place it. Was he mocking Peter? Or her?

“Yes, I do.” Peter grinned broadly.

There was a strained silence, and after a second, Sudhir said, “So it's been how long since—”

“Three years.”

“Ah, yes. I see your photo byline occasionally. In
National Geographic
mostly, right?” Sudhir smiled politely, but Maggie could tell it was a strain. He really dislikes Peter, she thought with wonder. It was so rare for Sudhir not to like someone.

“Yup. In fact, a couple of years ago I was in India for them. Did a photo shoot on the extinction of the Bengal tiger,” Peter said. “I lived with the tribals for over two months.” He fingered the thick black cord he wore around his neck. “You see this?” he said, lifting the yellowed pendant. “That's a tooth from a man-eating tiger that the villagers killed while I was there. They gifted it to me.”

Sudhir shivered. From distaste, Maggie thought. But he only said, “I'm cold.” He turned to Maggie. “I'm going to swim a few laps. And then I'll see you in the hot tub?” His eyes searched her face, and she realized that it wasn't a statement but a question. Sudhir wanted some kind of reassurance from her. She felt her face flush.

“Just let me know when you're ready,” she mumbled.

He nodded and swam away. Maggie waited until he was out of earshot and then turned toward Peter. “Why are you here?” she hissed. “I told you—”

“I know. I know. But I can't. I need to see you again.”

She wanted to finish this conversation before Sudhir finished his lap and headed toward them again. “Peter,” she said. “Don't do this. I love my husband. Do you get that? I'm not going to do anything that—”

He leaned toward her and said something so intimate, it took her breath away. Her cheeks burned, and she looked at him sternly, but he held her gaze and she was the first to turn away. Because what he'd said was true. She loved Sudhir, but it was Peter's body that she craved. “Go away now,” she said as she moved away from him.

“Will you come see me?”

“Yes, okay. Now go.”

“When?”

“I don't know. Tuesday, maybe.”

“Call me, babe.”

She didn't bother to reply. She'd never known that it was possible for a heart to pound with fear and croon with joy at the same time.

Forty minutes later, Sudhir and Maggie walked toward the car in silence. As he pulled out of the parking lot, she touched his arm lightly. “What happened to your mood?”

He shrugged. “I don't know.” After a few minutes he said, “There's something about that man I can't stand. Pompous asshole.”

She forced her face and voice to remain neutral. “Who?”

Sudhir took his eyes off the road to glance at her. “You know who. That Peter guy.”

She attempted a careless laugh. “Oh, honey. You hardly know him. Why're you letting him upset you?”

Sudhir brushed the hair off his forehead. “I know. It's crazy. But there's something so . . . predatory about him. Ethnocentric bastard.”