And Laughter Fell From the Sky (3 page)

“The guy who’s coming over tomorrow. It just looks bad for me to be seen with a man the day before I’m meeting the person I’m going to marry.”

The light finally changed. They crossed the highway, skirting a rubbly pothole. “I still can’t believe you’re going through with an arranged marriage at all,” Abhay said.

“This is the way Indians get married. It’s always worked out fine.”

“Yeah? What about Yashoda? You know her? Her parents took her to India right after college and got her married to some guy, and they brought him back to live with them. One big happy family, right? So she had a kid, and then the guy started shouting at Yashoda and her parents, and even hitting Yashoda. Right in their own house, their son-in-law was abusing their daughter. How awful is that?”

“That won’t happen to me.” They passed under the university archway and climbed up the sidewalk toward the Auditorium Building.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because. It just won’t. I’ll be fine.”

“Haven’t you found anyone on your own?”

“I’ve never tried. I don’t date.”

“That’s not true. I used to see you with guys, all over campus.”

On the lawn beside them, a group of students threw a football around. One girl fumbled with the ball, which came hopping onto the sidewalk at Rasika’s feet. Without breaking her pace, she stepped over it and kept going. “No, you didn’t.”

“One time you were in the parking lot behind Olson Hall, kissing this really tall guy. He was practically lifting you off your feet. The two of you were so into it, you didn’t even notice me walk by.”

She picked up the pace, striding along dangerously on her heels. “You’re obviously mistaken.”

“And another time, you were playing footsie with some guy in the corner of the cafeteria.”

She stopped in front of the white Auditorium Building. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.” She flicked something off the jacket she was carrying. “If you’re going to spread rumors about me, we may as well say good-bye now.”

He stuffed his hands into his shorts pockets. The early evening sun glared behind her head, and he could barely see her face. “I haven’t told anyone else,” he said quietly.

She tilted her lips inward, as if to check the status of her lipstick. Then she started walking again. “Let’s go see the memorial, at least.”

Chapter 2

R
asika and Abhay sat on the warm granite bench at the top of the grassy memorial slope, watching the students toss their football far down the hill, and listening to their shouts. On the ground in front of the bench, inscribed in granite slabs, were the words
Inquire, Learn,
and
Reflect
. To the right were four stone blocks representing the four students shot and killed thirty-seven years ago. The sky above them was a faded blue, and beyond the memorial, the branches of the trees going down the slope were still.

Rasika felt like she’d dropped the script of her life, and pages were blowing around and away from her. First of all, she had the bad luck of seeing Subhash. And tonight of all nights, how could Abhay have brought up all that crap about seeing her with men? She was already stressed by the idea of this weekend’s performance: she’d have to be beautiful and charming to Viraj, demure and respectful to his parents, and compliant to her parents’ wishes. She wanted to relax with company, and Abhay had seemed like a good candidate. He wasn’t someone who would even care if she tried to impress him.

But there were certain things about her life she didn’t want anyone to see right now. She didn’t even want to look too closely herself. Why had she come to Kent today? Why hadn’t she gone straight home, as she was supposed to do? Why had she invited Abhay to spend time with her?

She heard the melody of her phone, a maniacally fast version of “Heart and Soul.” She dug it out of her purse, flipped it open, and saw Jill’s number. “I have to take this call,” Rasika apologized.

“Are you still at my house?” Jill asked.

Jill had been her cover since high school. Whenever Rasika went somewhere that she didn’t want her parents to know about, she told them she was with Jill. “Yeah. Why?”

“Jared and I are going out for dinner.”

“That’s fine. If my mom calls you, just tell her I’m with you. Anyway, I’ve got my phone on. She shouldn’t call you, plus I’m going home soon. Have a good night, I’ll call you later.” Rasika closed the phone. She probably shouldn’t have bothered lying to her parents tonight. She hadn’t planned to spend any time with a man, and Abhay wasn’t anyone special. Still, she wanted to be absolutely safe on the day before such an important occasion.

She dropped her phone into her purse. “What’re you planning to do, now that you’re home?”

“I came home mostly because I didn’t know what else to do, or where else to go. But once I got here, I realized it was a good opportunity to reconnect with my parents. As an adult.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before I left for the commune, I was angry because they treated me like a kid. Even after I graduated from college, Mom tried to buy clothes for me, do my laundry, and tell me to eat my breakfast. Dad tried to get me to apply to law school or graduate school. They’d tell me what time to be home when—”

“All Indian parents are like that,” Rasika interrupted.

“But why? That’s what I want to find out. We had these personal development sessions at Rising Star, and I learned that any relationship is the product of all the people involved.” Abhay drew a circle in the air with his forefinger. “I realized maybe my parents treated me like a kid because I acted like one. I either obeyed them, or rebelled against whatever they were saying.”

“So how’s it working now that you’re home? Are they treating you like an adult?” Rasika sat very straight and silent, hands clasped in her lap, gazing out over the memorial hill. She had discovered some years ago that by making her body still, she could also quiet the thoughts racing around in her mind. The football-playing students had left. Leaves rustled softly around her in the slight breeze. There was no one else nearby.

“I’m not sure. Mom’s gotten involved with some sort of pyramid marketing scheme, selling educational games through home parties.”

“My mom mentioned that to me.”

“She seems almost like a different person to me now. I mean, she seems happy. In a way. But she quit her job for this new thing.”

“She used to work in your dad’s department, right?”

“Yeah. She was the administrative assistant for the physics department. Now she’s cut her hair—it’s really short.” He made a cap with his hands around his head. “And she wears these pantsuits. She used to wear knit pants and blouses.”

“I really like your mom,” Rasika said. “She’s so gentle and sweet.”

“She is, and I’m worried that this company is taking advantage of her.”

“How’s your dad?”

“The same. He was upset with me all through college because I couldn’t pick a major and took five years to graduate, finally, with a degree in general studies. He wanted me to pick something lucrative, and I managed to drive him crazy by not choosing anything at all.”

“Well, you’re so smart. I’m sure it would drive any parent crazy to see their kid, who’s been getting straight As since he was born, wander around completely lost like you did.”

“Yeah. I can see that now.”

“So how is he, now that you’re home?”

Abhay laughed and shook his head. “He’s still upset. I haven’t done anything that would look decent on a résumé. In his opinion, at least.”

Rasika felt like she was becoming too interested in Abhay. She wanted to keep herself clean and separate, ready to meet and merge with Viraj. She willed herself to think about something else. She chose one of her favorite subjects—the kind of engagement ring she would like—and concentrated on following her thoughts, trying not to pay too much attention to Abhay. “So you’ve decided to settle down at home?”

“I thought I’d hang out here for several months. Regroup. Earn some money. Figure out what to do next. Now that I’m here, I can see that I’ll eventually need to get out to explore different parts of the country and figure out where I belong.”

“Don’t you feel like you belong here?”

“Not really. Do you? I mean, we ended up here more or less by chance. Our fathers got jobs here, and then they just stayed. We both ended up at Kent State because it’s the closest four-year college. Plus, I got free tuition because my dad’s a professor. There’s nothing special about northeastern Ohio for our families. We could be anywhere, and our parents would want the same things. They’d want to keep doing their poojas and having their parties, while taking full advantage of the financial and shopping opportunities offered in the U.S. That’s what all Indians are like.”

Rasika’s thoughts about the diamond ring ended abruptly. Was Abhay right? Were her parents and their entire Indian community that shallow? “I don’t think you can make a blanket statement like that about all Indians.”

“Fair enough. But I’ll say that for many of the Indians I know, the U.S. is just a place to get a high-paying job and buy stuff. That’s the way it’s been for my parents, at least, and I think for yours, too. They’re just here on assignment; they run back to visit India every chance they get.”

“We go to India almost every year,” Rasika agreed.

“I went every three or four years when I was a kid until I finally put my foot down, right before my senior year in high school, and refused to waste my summers that way. I feel like I have no particular roots in India or in Ohio. I have no roots anywhere, and neither do you.”

“That’s so depressing. I can’t believe that’s true.”

“Are your parents citizens?”

“Not yet. My mom almost became a citizen when I turned eighteen and went through the process, but then at the last minute she decided not to. She said she couldn’t see any reason to go through the trouble. And for my dad, it’s an emotional thing. He likes having an Indian passport.”

“That’s right. It’s cultural loyalty. My parents aren’t citizens yet either. What’s holding them back? It’s only because they don’t really think of themselves as Americans. They don’t want to vote. They don’t want to get involved with the local community.”

“We have our own community here. The Indian community.”

“Exactly my point. Your parents probably have very few non-Indian friends, right?”

Rasika had to admit this was true. “So what? People of every culture prefer to hang out with others like them. Anyway, Ohio’s not such a bad place. We have friends here, connections.” Rasika felt like she was grasping at straws. She did want to stay in this area. She wanted to be near the people who knew her and appreciated her high quality. The Indian community here valued her impeccable taste when it came to both Indian and Western clothes, gifts, and other social niceties. If she went elsewhere, would anyone even care about how special she was? She couldn’t say this to Abhay. He would think she was vain. Not that she cared what he thought.

“In a way, it’s good that I don’t have any ties here,” Abhay said. “I can choose to settle anywhere, and I certainly wouldn’t choose this place. The only thing people seem to care about around here is building more shopping malls and parking lots. In other parts of the country, they’re putting in bike lanes and creating more parks. I come back here and see more housing developments everywhere. They’ve ripped up perfectly good fields to put in more buildings, more pavement.”

“Abhay, you’re being kind of naive. People do need to shop. They need to live somewhere.”

“They don’t need to buy a bunch of stuff made by people working for slave wages in factories in China and Mexico. They don’t need to buy a bunch of plastic that’s going to break and go into a landfill.” Abhay waved his arms as he talked, as though trying to foment some action out of the air.

Rasika laughed. “Do you think the world will ever be the way you want it to be?”

“I don’t know.” He looked at his toes, scratched his knee, and then gazed up into the sky. “I’m searching. I’m feeling kinda lost right now.”

“I guess I feel closer to India because I was born there, and I didn’t come here until I was eight.”

“But you don’t feel Indian anymore, do you?”

Rasika rubbed a palm over the tan skin of her forearm. She was Indian. She knew that. Yet she was also aware that, since she’d arrived in the U.S. in the third grade, her feeling of being Indian had grown more and more tenuous. “Once I get married, I’ll feel completely Indian,” she said.

“It sounds like you want to get married to find yourself.”

“I’m not lost. Not like you.”

He glanced at her for a moment, and then sat up straight and turned his face to the sky. She followed his gaze. High above them a pale moon had appeared in the blue evening sky. Rasika fixed her mind on the engagement ring again. She hoped Viraj hadn’t gone and picked out the ring himself. She didn’t necessarily care about a large diamond. She wanted one of high quality, very clear and sparkling. Some men—and she could certainly imagine Viraj in this category, given what she knew about him—just thought bigger was better. And what if his mother had bought the ring from an Indian jewelry store? It would be set in that bright yellow Indian gold, and it wouldn’t be a high-quality stone. Diamonds mined in India generally weren’t the highest quality. If Viraj had bought the ring already, she wondered how she could persuade him to do things her way, without coming across as spoiled or difficult.

“Have you already decided to marry this guy?” Abhay asked. “The one you’re meeting tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” she said flatly. “I’m not going to turn him down after they’ve traveled all the way out here. My parents have wanted me to get married since I graduated from college. It’s been hard to find someone that we all agree on. Now we’ve found him. It’s time for me to get married, and he meets all my criteria. It’s as simple as that.”

“What kind of future do you want to have?” He was sitting sideways, one bent leg resting on the bench, looking at her intently. “What do you really want out of life?”

She wondered how to address Abhay’s questions. She didn’t want to come out and tell Abhay her dearest wish, which was to impress people with her taste, beauty, and elegance. It would make it sound too crass to say it out loud.

She’d always been confident of her own high quality, as she liked to think of it, but it had sometimes been difficult to persuade others to see this. Growing up, some of the other kids just thought she was aloof. In high school, she stuck with classic clothes, mostly jeans and sweaters, and had avoided most of the fashion horrors other kids were embracing, such as extra-short baby doll dresses, and dirty flannel shirts, and baggy overalls (although one year she had gotten her hair cut in the popular bouncy, shaggy style of the character Rachel on
Friends
). Of course at that age she never flirted with boys. During her sophomore year, she’d made friends with Ashley Smith, the most popular girl in the school, a head cheerleader. Ashley had invited Rasika to a party one Saturday night. Rasika had worn a pretty sweater over her jeans, and had taken a box of chocolates for Ashley’s mother. When she got to the house, the mother was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the father. The house was dark and milling with bodies, some of whom she recognized from high school. Pounding music filled every room. The focal point of the party was the keg of beer in the basement. Rasika retreated to the kitchen, where she left her chocolates on the table, called her father, and waited at the end of the driveway for him to pick her up.

After that, she hadn’t made much effort to be friends with the popular girls at school. She’d mostly just kept to herself, and maintained her friends from elementary school. Her teachers loved her poise and good manners. As she grew older, in college and the work world, some of her peers came to appreciate her elegance and sophistication.