The Unexpected Son (34 page)

“Yes.” Sayee swiped at the perspiration with the back of her hand.

“Why didn't you say something before now?”

“I…um…I was sworn to secrecy.” Guilt was written all over Sayee's round face—the classic look of a child caught lying.

“Then why are you telling me now?” Vinita's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I think you have a right to know.”

“So why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“It wasn't my decision to make.” Sayee bit her lip and held it in for a beat. “I wasn't supposed to tell you until after the transfusion.”

“But you're breaking your oath now?”

“Because…it's different now, you see. You are sure to find out this morning.”

“All right.” They both resumed walking. “But I think I already know. It's Som, isn't it?”

“Som Kori?” asked Sayee, coming to a dead stop once again. “Whatever gave you that idea?” Her expression was almost comical in its disbelief. “Why would you think
that
man would come forward to save his son?”

Equally puzzled, Vinita frowned at the ground. “Because…well…it made sense.” Lately she'd been so convinced the mystery donor was Som that she hadn't bothered to look at any other possibilities. Realistically there were none. Unless…oh God! Her heart missed a beat. “Is it Arya? Has that crazy girl secretly arrived in Palgaum?”

Sayee shook her head. “It's not Arya.”

“Thank goodness.” Vinita's wobbling heartbeat settled a little. “Then who is it?”

“It's Vishal.”

Vinita's hand flew to her mouth. “Oh…my!”

N
early an hour after Sayee had given away Vishal's secret, Vinita was still staggering from the shock. Her brother. Of all the people in the world, the donor had to be her brother. With all the speculating she'd been doing, why hadn't she thought of
him?

Was it because she'd never dreamt her brother would go to such extreme lengths to help Rohit and ensure her happiness? Was it because she'd never really had total faith in Vishal? Was it because she'd wanted to protect him and the family from more scandal?

After a moment of introspection she knew the answer was yes to all of the above.

She stood waiting for Sayee outside the hospital doors now, her hands clenching and unclenching, oblivious to the people going in and out of the building. Loath to sit in the waiting room, where she felt stifled, she'd preferred to wait outdoors. The sun was out. She needed its light, its heat, its promise of life. She needed to think.

She and Sayee had arrived at the hospital a few minutes ago and learned that Vishal was being readied for the marrow to be harvested from his hip. They were told there was just enough time for Sayee to see him briefly before he was transferred to surgery.

At the moment, Vinita didn't know whether to cry or let out an angry shriek. But she wasn't the type to do either of those in public. So she stood in place and rocked gently on her heels.

How could Vishal have been tested as a donor and deemed suitable, then offer to give his marrow without her knowledge? When had he done all that? Why hadn't he said a word to her? Why hadn't either Sayee or her mother said anything? They had all carried the secret around for days. No wonder Sayee had been distracted.

Come to think of it, Sayee had been a little evasive in the last couple of days. Her mother had been quiet, too—but that wasn't so unusual. Silent disapproval was something her mother did well. Besides, Vinita had been too consumed by her worries over Rohit and Girish to pay attention to anyone else.

But how much blinder could she have been? Vishal had looked tense and worn-out lately. She had naturally assumed it was work related, especially after the riots had affected his office routine. All those evenings when he'd said he was working late, he had probably been going through the required donor tests.

What troubled her more was that she hadn't had the time to talk to Vishal before he'd gone into surgery, ask him all those questions she was dying to ask, thank him for his generosity. Vishal's actions were beyond generous—another one of the reasons she'd never thought to ask him to be a donor. She could not ask for yet another favor. She would not. She bit back the tears. Her brother was making her weep again.

When she'd heard his car driving away very early that morning, why hadn't she guessed that he wasn't headed for work but to the hospital? Much later, when Sayee had said she needed to ride in a rickshaw and not drive to the hospital in her own car, even then Vinita had not guessed the truth—that Vishal's car was parked in the hospital's parking lot and Sayee had to drive it back home.

Vinita sent up a silent prayer for her brother.

“They're doing it now,” said Sayee's voice beside her, startling her.

Vinita gave her a bristling glance. “Why didn't he say something to me, Sayee?”

“He wanted to keep it a secret for some reason.” Sayee didn't look pleased with his decision, either.

“I still can't understand why.”

“I advised him to tell you, but he said he didn't want to get your hopes up unnecessarily.”

“So damn protective!” Vinita clenched her teeth at her brother's obsession with secrets. But damn it all, he was in surgery right now, giving lifeblood to her son. Her son—the boy she'd thought Vishal didn't care about.

And to think she had condemned her brother for being a brute, for wrenching her son away from her right after birth, faking the infant's death, lying to her, and then not bothering with the child's welfare. All this time, Vishal
had
cared—more than cared—about her, about Rohit. She was also just beginning to discover that Vishal
had
been keeping tabs on Rohit, albeit from a distance. Being in the same town, he had to have been able to watch Rohit's progress.

In fact, Vishal had secretly and cleverly engineered Rohit's entire future, all the way from Vinita's shocking pregnancy up until now. She returned her attention to Sayee, who looked small and miserable. “I shouldn't have taken out my frustration on you,” she apologized.

“We're all under strain.” Sayee's capacity for tolerance was amazing.

“Did they say how long? The procedure?”

“I'm not sure, but the doctor assured me it is short—and safe for the donor.”

“But you're naturally worried.” The very nature of general anesthesia was dangerous. It was the closest a healthy person could come to induced death. The thought scared Vinita. Nevertheless she said to Sayee, “He'll be all right. Vishal is a strong man.”

Sayee nodded. “Then they'll move on to Rohit. They immediately start the transplant—as soon as they get the amount of marrow they need.”

Vinita drew a heavy breath and squeezed Sayee's shoulder. “Come on, let's go find ourselves a place to sit down and maybe have a cup of tea,” she suggested. “It's going to be a long wait.”

They walked across the street to the small tea shop that was doing a brisk business, despite its dingy looks. It was a while before a table became available. It had streaks running across it and smelled like it had been wiped with a moldy rag. The slate floor felt sticky, probably from spilled tea and coffee. But it was the best they could do under the circumstances.

They both ordered tea. “Make sure the cups are clean,” Vinita said to the tall, leggy young man who took their order. His jet black hair was combed into a stiff, glossy puff. He reminded her of the boys she'd gone to college with. Sadly, he also brought to mind Som, back in those days when he used to dress like a movie star.

“Yes, madam,” said the waiter, grinning, making it clear he found her request highly amusing. It probably was in this greasy little café. “Our cups are always clean,” he assured her.

“I bet,” Vinita murmured under her breath, waving away a persistent fly hovering over the suspicious streaks on their table. “Bad idea, coming to this place,” she said to Sayee the moment the waiter's back was turned. “We could catch a stomach virus or something.” She pulled a wry face. “I don't want to get sick again.”

“Don't worry. I have had tea here once or twice.”

“Why here?” Vinita looked at the crowd of patrons and wondered why they were all here.

“It is the only place this close to the hospital. If you can overlook the basic lack of hygiene, their tea is quite good.”

Well, that explained why so many people were lined up at this particular
chai
shop. Vinita actually smiled, despite the dreariness. “Maybe it's precisely the lack of hygiene that makes it taste so good. When I was in college, my friends and I used to love eating at the canteen, filthy as it was. But their
batata vadas
were delicious,” she reminisced, wondering if they still served those spicy mashed-potato balls, coated with chickpea batter and deep fried to a crisp.

The thought of the canteen brought on a gush of unexpected nostalgia. And thoughts of Prema. The urge to get in touch with Prema nipped at her. It would be wonderful to see her friend again, exchange news that hadn't been exchanged in more than three decades. She wondered what Prema looked like now. Maybe she could find out her phone number or something…that is, if Prema's parents still lived in Palgaum.

And if she was lucky enough to find Prema, she'd tell her friend the truth about the past and why she'd vanished without any explanation. She felt she owed it to the one true girlfriend she'd ever had in her whole life. Prema had warned her, scolded her, even mothered her in a way, and yet Vinita had ignored her wise friend's advice, and had used her for her own selfish purposes.

It was thirty years too late for it, but she owed Prema an apology.

Vinita wrenched her mind back to the present and looked across at Sayee, who was trying her best to put on a brave face. Poor thing was as tense as she was. So much was at stake here. Two men they loved were lying in that hospital, one striving to save another's life and the other determined to stay alive.

The grinning waiter brought their
chai,
interrupting Vinita's musings. The cups were tiny and barely held half a dozen sips. But the tea looked delicious—fragrant and steamy, brimming with rich milk.

Vinita took a cautious sip and decided Sayee was right. It was excellent tea, even if it was rather sweet. Sayee was sipping hers quietly, her eyes trained on the hospital building visible through the wide-open door. She'd been glancing that way off and on.

Reaching across the table, Vinita patted Sayee's hand. “Vishal's going to be all right.”

“I hope so. And Rohit, too,” replied Sayee, reluctantly bringing her gaze back to Vinita. “I have been praying for both of them.” There was so much love and concern in those dark eyes that it nearly broke Vinita's heart. Vishal was a lucky man to have a wife like her. Sayee not only tolerated his overbearing nature, she adored him. And she was so patient with Mummy, despite the older woman's difficult ways.

“Can I ask you something?” She raised her brows at Sayee.

“Sure.” Sayee finished her tea and set the cup down in its saucer.

“How long have you known about my…past?”

“Vishal told me before we got married.”

“And you still agreed to marry him, despite his having a sister who had disgraced herself?”

“You didn't disgrace yourself, Vini. You made an innocent mistake.” Sayee shook her head. “Besides, what does that have to do with my marrying Vishal? He and your parents looked like respectable people, so I said yes to the match.”

“As simple as that, huh?” Vinita smiled at Sayee's remarks. It was such a different marriage proposal from her own. Hers had been fraught with deceit and complications.

Sayee flashed a wide smile. “And Vishal is so handsome.”

Vinita chuckled. “That, too. But still…”

“I honestly didn't care about your past,” Sayee affirmed. “Vishal explained to me how young you were and that Som Kori was a
mowali
who took advantage of you.”

“It was still a stupid mistake for a sensible girl to make—a mistake I'm still paying for.” Vinita drained the rest of her tea and stared at the flecks of foam clinging to the rim. “A mistake all of us are paying for, including you.” She caught the waiter's eye and motioned to him for their check.

“Don't be silly,” said Sayee, rising from the table. “We're family.”

“You're very kind, Sayee,” said Vinita, opening her handbag and pulling out some bills. She handed the money to their busy waiter, telling him to keep the change.

He blinked, then grinned at the clearly unanticipated tip. “Thank you, madam.”

“Kindness goes both ways, you know,” Sayee said, continuing their conversation without missing a beat.

They stepped out of the hot restaurant and crossed the street once again, hurrying back to the hospital. “You've been a blessing to our family,” Vinita said.

They found Shashi and Meenal Barve seated in the waiting room, looking just as jumpy as the two of them. Vinita and Sayee greeted them with
namastes
and sat down in chairs nearby.

The four of them tried to chat, the kind of stilted conversation that families have while waiting to hear about the fate of a loved one. There were no other people in the room. Unlike the crowded visitors' area of the main hospital, the oncology wing was generally quiet.

Vinita had come to the conclusion that the reason for it was probably the prohibitive cost of certain types of cancer treatment. Despite its availability, not many patients could afford bone marrow and organ transplants in a town like Palgaum.

“We are very grateful to Vishal-saheb for donating,” said Meenal Barve, glancing first at Vinita and then at Sayee. Gratitude was written all over her homely face.

So, the Barves had discovered the identity of the mystery donor, too, Vinita realized. Once again she bit back the surge of emotion the words brought on. Donating. It sounded straightforward enough, and yet it held all sorts of possibilities.
Life,
mainly. “I'm glad it's going on schedule,” she said simply.

“We are indebted to your brother, Vinita-bayi,” said Mr. Barve, echoing his wife's remark. “But until this morning we had no idea the donor was your brother. It was a complete shock.”

“To me, too,” she said with a dry smile.

The Barves stared at her. “He didn't tell you?”

Vinita shook her head. “He didn't want to raise my hopes, in case he got rejected…or something went wrong.”

“I see.” Mr. Barve stroked his chin.

Meenal turned to Sayee. “He did not tell
you,
either?”

“He did, but he asked me not to tell.” Sayee inclined her head toward Vinita. “Vini just explained why.” She shrugged. “Even now…who knows what will happen?”

“But we are thankful, anyway,” insisted Meenal, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “It is very generous of Vishal-saheb. And Vinita is paying for the treatment. We can never repay that,” she said hoarsely. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief as the tears gathered.

Vinita brushed it off with a wave. “Rohit is my son, too.” It felt good to say it aloud.
My son.
Finally.

They gradually subsided into silence, settling in for the long wait. A little while later, Vinita's mother arrived in a rickshaw to join them. She had waited until Anu and the maid had finished their chores, then locked the house and arrived there as quickly as she could.