The Story Hour (34 page)

A dullness spread through her, extinguishing the hope that had flared. “I don't know,” she said woodenly. “What is it?”

“Did you love Peter?”

She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to rehash the past with Sudhir. That was the whole point of divorce: that you didn't have to process things. Divorce was a cleaver—with one swift motion, it separated the past from the present, two people from each other. She opened her mouth to refuse his question, and then she thought, Why the hell not? It was a reasonable enough question. Surely Sudhir had earned the right to know the answer. He should've asked her when he first found out. But he hadn't, and perhaps he couldn't have at the time. He was too hurt, too wounded. Too afraid to know the answer.

“No,” she said. “Never. I was always clear that my life was with you. That I love—loved—you.”

“Then why?”

Here she could draw the line. The why was something she hadn't fully answered for herself. Even if she had, the why was something she would keep for herself, guard it even from Sudhir. The why went too deep, too far back, into the very shaping of her. It had something to do with her mother's death and Wallace's abuse and the damage done. It had to do with needing shelter and stability and Sudhir at one point in her life, and then, in her fifties, briefly needing something larger, wilder, more exciting. It had to do with containing multitudes, with being a complicated, contradictory, complex human being. The why was like God or the meaning of life—unanswerable. Unknowable. And she was okay with that.

“Sudhir,” she said as gently as she could. “What's the point?”

He cleared his throat. “Okay. Fair enough.” Abruptly, he asked, “What are you doing today?”

“Going to Gloria's. I'm already an hour late.”

“Oh. Sorry. You should go.”

“Sudhir? What is it?” She could sense his agitation.

“Nothing. Just that . . . Lakshmi also said that you'd made one mistake in all these years. One mistake. And for that, I threw you away.”

Something opened up inside her, a yawning hole of regret, grief, sadness. All of a sudden, she understood what he was trying to say—it had all been futile. A waste. They had both acted rashly, and for this, they had paid a huge price. It was one thing to divorce a spouse you didn't love. But their love still bled, which meant it was fresh and alive. No wonder they both hurt so.

“And what did you say?” Her voice was husky, unrecognizable to her.

“Nothing. I said nothing.”

There was a long silence. “Well, then. I guess there's nothing to say.”

“Well . . .”

The disappointment she felt at knowing that this was where things ended, that Sudhir was unprepared or unable to take things any further, turned into impatience. An image of Peter, intense, passionate, demanding, flashed before her eyes. How doggedly Peter had pursued her each time she'd tried breaking up with him. This was what Sudhir lacked—that fierceness, that go-getterness. It was this quality that had made Peter attractive to her.

“My cell phone's ringing,” she lied. “It's probably Gloria, wondering where I am.”

Though she could sense his reluctance to let her go, he said, “Yes, you better get going.”

“What are you doing today?”

“Me?” He sounded surprised, as if having plans on Christmas were preposterous. “Oh, I don't know. Several people have invited me for dinner. But I think I'll just go to a movie.”

It hurt to think of Sudhir alone in a movie theater. It's not your problem, Maggie reminded herself. “Maybe you should go to dinner. Be with people.”

“Maybe.” There was a short silence and then he said, “Achcha. Bye.”

“Bye. Merry Christmas.”

She hung up and wandered listlessly to the front porch. She debated whether to call Gloria and beg off from dinner, her mood ruined by the strange call from Sudhir, but decided to follow her own advice. She looked out at the ocean, hazy in the early-afternoon sunlight. It looked as lonely and restless as she felt. She replayed the desultory conversation with Sudhir in her head, trying to make heads or tails out of it. Had Lakshmi really spoken to him in that manner? Why? Why had Sudhir allowed her into his home in the first place? And what did Lakshmi think she was doing by playing Dear Abby? Appeasing her conscience?

Maggie fumed about Lakshmi for a few minutes but then ran out of gas. The fact of the matter was, she couldn't hate Lakshmi. She'd tried for the past year, but she couldn't. Instead, what she felt when she thought about her was mortification. That Lakshmi had seen her naked—in more senses than the obvious one. That she had seen Peter naked. That she'd had her illusions destroyed. Maggie knew that Lakshmi had looked up to her. She was sorry to have turned out to be such a lousy role model. She was sorry that their friendship had reached such an abrupt, ignoble end. Lakshmi had brought a lot of vitality and wonder to her life. She missed that.

Maggie sighed. She knew she should call Wallace but couldn't muster up the psychic energy that it would take. I'll call him from the car, she decided. As I get closer to Gloria's.

She picked up her house keys and grabbed her purse. As she locked the front door, she made a resolution. She would not accept any more phone calls from Sudhir. It was much too unsettling. She had cheated on him. He had found out. They had divorced. Those were facts. That was the reality of their lives. They both had to live with that.

A
FTER
C
HRISTMAS
I thinks the parties stop but Janice and Dick Russo wanting me to cater their New Year Eve party. Forty-five peoples they invite, and I having to feed them all. All day today husband, Rekha, Smita, and I cook. For first time, I asking Rekha to come with me tonight to help serve. I's too tired to do this alone.

I sitting on toilet pot in Janice's bathroom since last five minute, rubbing my feets. Someone knock on the door but I not answer and they goes away. Janice having such a big house, I's sure there many other bathrooms. Few month ago she ask me to do weekly cleaning but I says no. Such big house take eight hours or more to clean. I tell her my schedule is pack. Of course, if Janice find out I quit Sudhir babu's house, she may ask again. But Sudhir babu become like a sadhu—he not seeing anyone, I thinks, so how she going to know?

Rekha alone with serving the food, so I know I needs to get up and help. But still I sits, rubbing my feets. Tomorrow I ask husband to give me the massage. Thanks God restaurant and store both close tomorrow.

It only eleven o'clock yet. Janice say that in one hours they will all watch the TV to see silver ball drop from the sky. She also wanting me to serve the guests the champagne wine at that time. For this reason I cannot go home. She also buy funny hats for her guests and some paper horn to blow. Janice not inviting any childrens to the party but then she buy her guests toys that make them act like childrens. If I living to be hundred years old, I not understanding Am'rican peoples.

Someone knock on bathroom door again and I gets up from pot. I opens the door and gets biggest shock—it is Sudhir babu who knock on door. He look as surprise to see me. “Oh, hi,” he say. “I . . . I didn't know . . .” His face get bright. “Did you cater? Tonight?”

What he think? That Janice invite me because we best friend? But one thing about Sudhir babu, I can't be angry to him. Also, he not looking like crazy man anymore. He look like Shashi Kapoor again. His hair still long but the beard gone and he wearing clean white shirt and blue jean. “Yes,” I say. “Plenty food left. You go eat.”

He smile. “Lakshmi. You were born to feed people. Thanks. I'll use the bathroom and then eat. I'm starving.”

I goes into the kitchen to make plate for Sudhir babu. Janice come up, wanting something, but I tells her to ask Rekha. One good thing—my food so especial, they all a little ascare of me, in case I say no to cater their party. So what I wants, they do. Janice go to find Rekha and I make plate for Sudhir babu. By the time he come up to me, the food nice and warm. I watch while he eats. “What about you?” he ask. “Did you eat yet?”

Minute he say this, my stomach growl. He laugh so hard little foods come out of his mouth. “Guess that's a no,” he say, and before I can reply, he cut small piece of lamb and holding fork up to my mouth. I so shock I turns my head. I never had strange man feed me before. Even the husband not to do this. “You eat, Sudhir babu,” I say. “I fix my plate later.”

He begin to eat and I can know he's not eating all day today. After a few minute he speak with his mouth full. “Okay,” he say. “I have a confession to make. I lied. Actually, I knew you were going to be at the party tonight. I ran into Janice a few days ago and she told me. You are the reason why I came.” He swallow his food and then he face me. “I called her. Maggie. A few days after you were over. I thought about what you said and I called her.”

My mouth suddenly so dry. “So what she say?” I not even knowing he know how to reach Maggie. Maybe he come to tell me they going to marry again? My heart light at the thought. This is only way God will forgive me for what I do. Otherwise I will have to do hundred rebirths as punishment.

But he make a tall face. His eyes look tired, confuse. “I don't know what happened, Lakshmi. Everything was so clear in my head when I picked up the phone. Then it all got jumbled and nothing came out right. She finally hung up. And I've called three or four times since then, but she hasn't called me back, so I guess it's over.” Then he laugh, but it sound like two piece of coal rub together. “Who am I kidding? It's been over for more than a year. Right?”

I shake my head yes but I confuse. What is so hard about saying sorry? What so hard about telling Maggie he make mistake? Why these educated people make everything so puzzle? Then I has an idea. “You go to the California, Sudhir babu. You go and bring Maggie home.”

He get a look on his face I never see before. He look like Mithai when I am making him do something he not wanting to do. Except Sudhir babu not kicking dust and stamping his foot the way Mithai do. Instead, his eyes turn hard. “I think I've humiliated myself enough,” he say. “Anyway. It's better this way. You know what they say—you can't go home again.”

This is truth. Look at me. Seven years in Am'rica and I not go home one time. But Sudhir babu not having the husband who not allow him to go. And Maggie not so far away as Dada and Shilpa. Then I knows what stopping Sudhir babu. It something bigger than husband or plane ticket. It is gamand. He being prideful. Every year when I stands first in my class, Ma gives me the advice: Daughter, she say, never be gamandi. What you have, given to you by God. You just a basket into which God puts the flowers. Flowers not belong to you. They belongs to God. Same way, your clever belong to God.

But I cannot tell Sudhir babu to not be prideful. He is a man. He my elder. So I get up and start putting dirty bowls in the dishwasher. He sit in the kitchen, quietly eating. But then Janice come into the kitchen and ask me to bring out the bottles of the champagne wine. I open the fridge and take out the bottles. “Come on, Sudhir,” she say. “It's almost time for the ball to drop.” He smile at Janice, put down his plate, and walk toward me. “I'll help you,” he say, and smile again. He take a few of the bottles and I carries the others to the dining room. I looks for Rekha, but so many people, I not sees her.

Some of the mens go out on back porch and open the bottles. They sound pop-pop as they opens. Then they fills plastic glasses. The champagne look like soap bubble. Sudhir babu picks up a glass. “Will you have some?” he ask me, but I shake my head. I am remindering the first time I tastes the daru when I tries the suicide.

“Lakshmi, what's wrong?” Sudhir babu say.

“It hot here, no? So many peoples. I think I go to kitchen.”

“But—”

I goes. I hopes he not following me, but so many people there happy to see him, he having no chance.

In the kitchen, I pull up stool and sit. I look at all the dirty dishes and I knows I cannot wash them tonight. Maybe I ask Rekha to stay and clean. I can pay her extra. I think of going home to bed and I yawns as if I already there. In a few minutes, I hear them in the other room. They are all saying, “Ten, nine, eight . . .” as if they childrens in school learning to count. Then I hears them cheer and say “Happy New Year” again and again. I wish Rekha would come in the kitchen now so I have someone to say “Happy New Year.” It already New Year in India and I think of Shilpa and pray for her and little Jeevan to be happy. And Maggie also. I know that in the California there is lots of sunshine, and I know we get mangoes from there that we sell in our store. And so I prays that Maggie always have life of sunshine and mangoes.

Everybody in next room talking, laughing, cheering. I alone in this kitchen, and even though I knows husband waiting for me at home, I feels as if I am only person in this world. The people in the next room have their good English, they clever, they knows how to make the jokes, they live in big house like this one, they having good job, good marriage. They knowing what their nephew look like, they visit their sister and old father when they feels like. They not live in small apartment on top of store which smell of onions and garlic from restaurant below. I not living in the same country as them.

And then I thinks, Only one other person here who as alonely as me. Only one person who also lose something and he also missing it. Only Sudhir babu share my pain. And I's the person who build that pain for him.

When I looks up, he is standing at the door to kitchen. He smile and his eyes is so kind. “Happy New Year, Lakshmi,” he say.

“Happy New Year, Sudhir babu.”

He take a sip from his glass, touch two fingers to his head, and go back into Janice's living room. He only one who take the time to give me the greetings. Even Rekha not come.