The Unexpected Son (26 page)

“Yes. I've been living there since I got married.” She didn't tell him exactly when she'd married. He probably knew that through the grapevine. And where was his wife? Vinita had expected to see her, was curious to see her. She'd come prepared to face the woman who'd married her former lover. She'd even rehearsed what she'd say to her.

She almost felt sorry for the poor woman who'd ended up with a man like Som Kori for a husband, a slithering snake no woman would ever be able to tame. Simple marital fidelity was an alien concept to him. He was probably wired that way at birth.

For the first few months after marrying Girish, Vinita had wondered what her life would have been like if Som had honored her tearful plea and made her Mrs. Kori. Would she have been able to overlook Som's transgressions? Would she have forgiven him? Detested him? Ended up divorcing him?

Later, after she'd come to care deeply for Girish, she'd realized that she'd have been miserable married to a man lacking in basic morality. She'd been lucky to have escaped that particular fate. Her pity for Som's wife went up another notch.

“I see.” Som steepled his long fingers, with their nicotine-stained fingernails. His hands still looked the same, except for a few wrinkles over the knuckles and a heavy diamond ring on the middle finger of the left hand. “Where in the U.S.?”

Vinita shifted. “New Jersey.”

“Quite a few people from Palgaum seem to have emigrated to New Jersey.” After an awkward silence, he spoke again. “I'm glad you got married and settled down.”

I bet you are. And believe me, I'm very glad myself.
Of course, at the moment, she didn't know if she had a marriage anymore. Girish had still not communicated with her.

“Any children?” Kori asked. Then he was suddenly seized by a dry, hacking cough. He put a fist to his mouth and coughed into it. His skin turned a dark coffee color with the effort and he began to wheeze when it finally subsided.

Emphysema…or some other smoker's ailment, Vinita concluded. He was so typical of his breed—an affluent businessman who indulged in every available vice and didn't give a damn about the consequences. The very things that gave him pleasure would likely kill him.

“One daughter,” she replied, after waiting for him to recover from the coughing spell. “She's grown and working now.”

He seemed to ponder that for a bit. “I'm married, too.”

“I know. You married your cousin.”

He nodded. “My wife and I have three daughters,” he supplied, clearing his throat with a guttural sound. The wheezing didn't improve.

“Good for you.” She suppressed the urge to giggle. In fact, she nearly wanted to roll with mirth. Three daughters? How ironic was that, in a society obsessed with sons? The Kori family was probably devastated that their only son had produced girls and no boys to carry on the family name and business. And wasn't it even more bizarre that he actually
did
have a son? A bright and handsome young man who would have made Som proud.

“Would you like some tea or a soft drink?” Kori asked, reluctantly playing the polite host.

“No thanks. I'm not here for a social visit.”

His frown returned. “I gathered that.” He cast an uneasy glance at the giant clock. “Why are you here, Vinita?”

She stared at the area rug. Where should she start? “Remember many years ago, when we…when I told you I was…having a baby?” she asked, lifting her gaze to him.

His frown deepened, but his silence was enough to tell her he remembered it.

“I didn't abort the child like you wanted me to.”

It took him a while to respond. “What exactly did you do?”

“I gave birth to a boy.”

His intake of breath was sharp, almost a hiss. He rubbed his temple with his fingers, like he had a headache coming on. He was clearly trying to come to terms with the truth. No doubt it was a shock. “Where?” he finally asked.

She swallowed to moisten her throat. “Bombay.”

“Hmm.” He continued to rub his temple.

“But he was adopted…by a family in Palgaum.”

His eyes dilated. “Here?”

She nodded. “He's a chemistry professor at our old college.” That part still caused her to wonder. There were no chemists in her family. No one had remotely liked the subject. Were there any in Som's family? Where had Rohit inherited his interest and liking for it?

“Then he probably teaches my two older daughters. They attend Shivraj.” Kori's nostrils flared—a sign of stress. His eyes traveled to the door for a brief moment. “What's his name?”

“Rohit Barve.
Doctor
Rohit Barve.”

It took about two seconds for the name to register. Vinita noted the exact moment of comprehension from the way he blinked rapidly. “You mean…Shashi Barve's son?” He threw another quick sidelong glance at the door before returning to Vinita.

“Yes.” She let him digest that, and watched a variety of expressions chase each other across his face. The years were catching up with him in a hurry. He was probably cursing the day he'd made that insane bet with his friends and started an affair with her.

Sometimes small, youthful indiscretions had a way of coming back as adult catastrophes.

He reached for a pack of cigarettes sitting on the table beside him, plucked one, and lit it with a red plastic lighter. He still smoked the same brand—still used those disposable lighters. The hand holding the cigarette shook visibly, like an old man's.

Hadn't he learned yet that smoking causes cancer? He probably already had the disease, from the way he was coughing and wheezing. But with his arrogant attitude, he was probably in denial, content in his imaginary invincibility.

“Why are you telling me this now, after thirty years?” he demanded.

“So you do remember the exact number of years.” She smiled at him. “I thought you'd have forgotten by now. Surely there were plenty of other girlfriends since me?”

She almost enjoyed watching him flinch. She wasn't vindictive by nature and she didn't like making others suffer, but for some perverse reason she found satisfaction in seeing him shaken. That's when she realized she'd never forgiven him—not in the true spiritual sense.

He didn't respond to her question, but placed the burning cigarette in an ashtray and clasped his hands. He threw yet another quick, anxious look at the door. Was he expecting someone, or was he afraid someone was eavesdropping? His wife? His children? The servants?

“Rohit is very ill,” she informed him.

He shifted and crossed his legs, stirring the air. She caught the familiar whiff of cigarette smoke mixed with his cologne. He wore the same fragrance from long ago, too. It was like being transported to her college days again, the nerve-wracking days of meeting him on the sly, the discovery that she was carrying his child. His rejection.

“What's wrong with him?” he asked.

“Acute leukemia.”

“Hmm.” He picked up the half-smoked cigarette, again with an unsteady hand. Vinita couldn't be sure if it was her news that set his hand trembling or just some physical or neurological problem.

“He also has juvenile diabetes.” She paused for effect and held his gaze. “Are you a diabetic, Som? Do you have type one diabetes?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“Is that why you never took sugar in your coffee? And rarely ate sweets?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“I gathered he'd inherited that from you, or someone in your family. There's no history of diabetes in mine.”

“You were always good at that—deduction, logic. Every damn thing involved your bloody logic.” He seemed angry for some reason.

She dismissed it with a shake of her head. “But that's not the issue now. The leukemia is. All forms of treatment have been tried.”

“And?”

“Nothing has worked so far.”

“Why should it mean anything to me?” His sneer was reminiscent of his expression when she'd told him she was pregnant with his child. He was probably seeing the parallels, too.

“His last resort is a bone marrow transplant.”

He went silent for a long time, puffing hard on his cigarette, like he was desperate to suck every last bit of nicotine out of it. “So you want me to donate
my
bone marrow to this boy?” His temper was simmering, as far as Vinita could guess.

“I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an urgent need.” She fidgeted with the clasp on her bag. “I flew here from the U.S. to donate
my
marrow, but unfortunately I came down with malaria. That prevents me from being a donor for now.”

His eyes were flashing sparks of gold now. They still had the same hard brilliance. “So you thought you'd come to me.”

“You're his father.”

“I can't do it, Vinita.” He finally dropped the tiny stub into the ashtray and raked his fingers through his hair.

“Why not?”

“I have to think of my wife and children. My eldest daughter is to be married soon. Her fiancé comes from a prominent local family.”

Well, at least he wasn't denying he was Rohit's father. “No one has to know, Som,” she suggested. “You could quietly get tested as an anonymous donor. It's painless.”

“It's not the pain, damn it! It's the gossip in this town that will ruin me.” He pointed an irate finger at her. “And why should I do any favors for the boy's father?”

“Shashi Barve.”

“Barve is a bloody bastard. He and his
chamchaas
set fire to my grain warehouse once. Just the other day they vandalized my office…ruined the building.”

“But this is not for Barve senior. This is for the son.
Our
son.”

“I said I can't do it.”

She shot to her feet and glared at him. “Can't or won't?”

He rose from his seat, too, then went over to the window to gaze outside, with his back to her. Maybe he didn't want her to see his expression anymore.

“I guess I'm being as stupid and naïve as I was in my teenage years.”

“You don't understand, Vinita. Back then the circumstances were difficult enough. Now they're worse. I have a family.”

“Just think about it, Som. You've been blessed with three daughters and no sons. Rohit is the only son you have.” She paused. “At least I think he's the only son. There could be others, I suppose,” she couldn't help adding.

“What are you implying?” He turned around to face her, livid.

“I'm not implying.” She'd never said anything so bold and impertinent in her life, but she was in a rare mood now—itching to lash out. “I'm saying very bluntly that there could be any number of Kori children around this town…and other towns.”

“That's enough!” he growled.

“Let's face it, Som. This is Palgaum; everyone knows everyone else's business. People talk.”

“Don't I know that?”

“Do you honestly think your secret mistresses are a secret?” She inclined her head toward his ancestor's portrait. Now that she was on a roll, she couldn't stop herself. “Not just you, but your father and grandfather were notorious for their transgressions.”

“How dare you come into my house and insult me!” His breathing sounded extremely labored and his nostrils twitched. “Please leave. Now!”

Something registered. She'd been rude. Worse than rude. Insulting. Her heart was beating furiously. What was wrong with her? Did she have the right to seek him out and hurl insults at him, no matter how much of a heel he was? It took only one second to answer her own question. If it meant shaking some sense into him for Rohit's sake, she was justified in using any means available. She was
that
desperate.

“I'm sorry,” she said grudgingly.

“Just go, Vinita.”

She picked up her handbag and faced him squarely. “I wonder why I even imagined that you'd lift a finger to help your son. You were always a shallow, self-centered man. But you know what? Someday your sins will come back to torment you.”

Without waiting for his response, she stepped outside the drawing room and into the corridor, taking a sharp breath to calm her fevered nerves. The scene was almost an exact replication of the one from her past. The only difference was that this time he wasn't offering her cash to get rid of their child. The Soms of the world never changed.

She stood there for a moment, feeling an odd prickle. Someone was watching her. Instinctively turning her head, she saw a tall, thin woman standing a short distance away, staring at her with dark, unblinking eyes. Her gaunt face seemed carved out of wood. She stood so still, she could have been a department store dummy. Dressed in a butter yellow sari and heavy gold jewelry, she looked about Vinita's age. Vinita at once guessed who she was. Som Kori's cousin-wife.

Something about the woman was eerie, her expression hollow yet tinged with sadness. Had she overheard the conversation in the drawing room? Vinita couldn't be sure. It didn't really matter, though. Som's wife probably knew all about his concubines as well as his sleazy past. What was one more scandal?

Turning on her heel, Vinita grasped the doorknob and managed to open the massive front door. She stepped out into the evening light, sensing the woman's eyes boring into her back until she shut the door behind her. She needed to rid herself of the nasty vibes inside that grim house, filled with God knows what kinds of secrets.

All her childhood fantasies of a magical lifestyle within those four walls had vanished with a single visit. Suddenly her open, sunny home in New Jersey seemed a million miles away, and a wave of homesickness swept over her.

She wanted to be dressed in one of her comfortable old sweatshirts and fuzzy socks, sitting in the recliner beside the fire-place, reading a romance novel and sipping
masala chai,
while Girish watched a ball game on TV. The picture was so vivid, it hurt. She willed it out of her mind and started to move.