And Laughter Fell From the Sky (6 page)

“Yes. Yes.” Mr. Shankar nodded his long head, like a cow’s head. She wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with her father, or her offer of food. She served him.

“All these years, U.S. is sending the arms to Pakistan,” Mr. Shankar said. “Now only they realize they must also pay attention to India. India is having high-tech boom. India is becoming economic superpower.” He mixed his rice and avial into neat balls and popped them into this mouth.

Eating with fingers was traditional in India, yet it always looked awful to Rasika, especially at a beautiful table like this.

Viraj glanced from one older man to the other, nodding.

“Over thirty percent of India’s population lives on less than one dollar a day,” said Pramod, the lone liberal in the family. “If Mahatma Gandhi were alive now, I don’t think he’d see India as economically successful.”

“We are long past age of Mahatma Gandhi,” Mr. Shankar said. “We are now in different era.”

As soon as Rasika sat down, Mrs. Shankar, who was also eating with her fingers, said, “Viraj prefers vegetarian. He will eat meat outside, to be sociable. At home, no. He is not picky about food. He will eat Indian, Italian, Chinese, Mexican. Anything at all. But a good home-cooked South Indian meal is best for his digestion.”

“Rasika is learning to cook South Indian food,” Amma said.

Rasika smiled and nodded. Amma had been writing down recipes on index cards for Rasika and had already filled a whole box of them, but Rasika had not looked at even one.

“She helps me cook every day,” Amma said.

This part was truer. Rasika sometimes cut vegetables for her mother.

As Rasika ate her rice and vegetables and dal neatly with a fork, she glanced once or twice in Viraj’s direction. He seemed completely absorbed in his meal and in the conversation. Which was worse, his constant stare, or his obliviousness?

After lunch, as everyone made their way back to the living room, Rasika picked up plates and carried them into the kitchen where Amma lifted them out of her hand. “Go and change,” she whispered. “I will clean up. You are going to the mall with him.” Amma said the word
him
as though it were capitalized. “You can have your coffee there.” Then, before Rasika left, Amma grasped her upper arm. “You let him drive,” she said.

In the garage, Rasika pulled her car keys from her purse and held them out to Viraj. “Would you like to drive?”

He grabbed them from her hand. “Sure.” He slipped behind the wheel and ran a palm over the leather seat. “Nice.” He flicked his fingers at the GPS screen, and Rasika winced. “Your parents buy this for you?”

“I bought it myself,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows. “I just asked. You don’t need to get huffy about it.”

She hadn’t realized she was being “huffy.”

The car whined as he backed out of the driveway with far more force than Rasika used, and she involuntarily pressed her right foot against the floor.

“Ohio’s not a bad place.” Viraj veered onto the main road from her parents’ housing development. “I was in Cleveland a couple of years ago, to visit Deepti Auntie, but I’ve never been down in this area. It’s more, I don’t know,
modern
than I thought it would be. I guess, being from the East Coast, I pictured a lot of cornfields out here. But, your parents’ house is really nice. Much nicer than I expected.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to this. “Make a left here,” she said. “And then another left after we go under the highway.”

“I guess real estate is a lot cheaper out here than in New Jersey. Still, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I know Akron’s got some major corporations, like Goodyear, right?”

“Here’s where you want to make a left,” she said.

“Goodyear’s not a bad company, as far as I can tell, although I believe it used to be doing better than it is now.”

“You just missed it,” Rasika said.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me? You have to give me some advance warning.”

Rasika had him backtrack and this time was more insistent with her directions. “Sorry about that,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “No one’s perfect.”

They hummed along the black roadway. “I think you’ll find that I’m pretty easy to get along with,” he continued. “I don’t think you’ll have any complaints. As I said on the phone, I don’t have any bad habits. I do drink occasionally. Who doesn’t? We can have a drink together every day after work, just to relax. I’m into enjoying myself. I don’t know about your parents, but my parents have always worked really hard. And I’ve done that. It’s gotten me to where I am now, and so I’m finally ready to enjoy things. I like the very best. I can afford it, so why not? I know what I want, and I go for it.”

Rasika wondered if
she
was something he wanted, and was going for. They passed a Chevrolet dealership hung with streamers and displaying a large sign with blinking words:
GET PRE-APPROVED IN SECONDS!
“We need to make another left pretty soon,” she said loudly.

“I’ll be making a very good living, and I know you’ll enjoy that. You’re free to work until we have kids.”

“A left is coming up,” she repeated.

“After we have kids, you can stay home and enjoy yourself. You’ll be busy enough taking charge of the house. I’m not saying you have to clean. We can hire all the help you want. My home should be my oasis. I have enough stress at work. I want a happy wife and happy children, and I’ll be making enough money so we can have that. But if you’re off working, then it’s not going to jive.”

“Here it is!” she shouted.

“Don’t get so worked up.” He swerved into the left lane. They heard a loud honk. “Hey, cool it,” he said to the other driver.

Was this how everyone drove in New Jersey?

As soon as they stepped into the white interior of the mall, with the familiar stores around her, she felt calmer. “There’s a coffee place down this way,” she said. Her white beaded low-heeled sandals clicked smartly along the hard marble floor. She felt the eyes of other shoppers watching her. She and Viraj were already presenting a stylish image together. She had chosen to wear the pale saffron salvar kameez with a white clutch purse because they seemed summery. They passed upscale home furnishings, chic women’s clothes, and adorable children’s outfits. Each window held a picture of a happy and harmonious life. She always loved the feeling of knowing she could afford to buy almost anything she wanted. Not that she was a spendthrift. Sometimes she walked out of the mall without buying anything at all. Just looking, and knowing she could buy, was sometimes enough. As the wife of Viraj, her spending power would only increase.

“Not bad.” Viraj surveyed the scene and nodded. “You’ve got some pretty decent stores out here.”

The café was under a high dome of skylights, near a splashing fountain that made enough noise such that Rasika didn’t feel the need to talk. As they stood in line she wondered if she should offer to pay for her coffee. Then she heard a burst of trumpets. Viraj pulled his cell phone from his pocket and glanced at the display screen. “I gotta take this,” he said. She watched in disbelief as he stepped away from her. She smiled faintly, just in case anyone was watching. Could he be getting calls about work on a Saturday? And if it wasn’t about work, what was possibly more important than being with his future wife?

She reached the counter, and Viraj was still out in the hallway. She stepped out of line and stood straight and tall at the entrance of the café, trying not to draw his or anyone’s attention to herself. She wasn’t going to be a nag.

Eventually he flipped his phone closed. When he saw her, he threw his arms in the air theatrically. “I thought you were holding our place in line!”

“I didn’t know what you wanted to order,” she said.

He shrugged. “Whatever. Come on.”

When they sat down with their drinks (he had insisted on paying), she got ready to break out her question on the U.S. Open so they could have some light conversation before moving on to more serious topics, like the honeymoon destination.

Before she could speak, he said, “I’m impressed with your area. I really am.” He peered at his cup, twisting it a quarter turn this way, and another quarter turn back. “But not impressed enough to move here. I know you prefer to stay in Ohio, but it’s not going to work for me. I’m doing really well with my company, and you’ll like New Jersey. Lots of Indian stuff, if you’re into that—saris, jewelry, anything you want. There’s nothing you can’t get in New Jersey.” He twisted his cup again and settled into his seat.

Rasika gripped her warm cup and sipped. Her hazelnut latte was too hot, and she felt a heavy pain in her chest. She closed her eyes and waited for the pain to pass. So, she would be moving to New Jersey. It would be okay. She could get a job there. She’d find new friends. And besides, soon she’d be busy running the household and having children.

“I’ve already bought a house,” Viraj said. “I wanted to get married before doing a lot of decorating. I know that’s what ladies enjoy. You have good taste. I can see that.” He tilted his head back as he examined her outfit, and then patted her arm approvingly.

Rasika rubbed the raw, burned spot on her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She looked past Viraj and recognized a handsome Indian man in the walkway.

She stood up, knowing this was the wrong thing to do. “Abhay!” she called.

Abhay turned. “Hey, Rasika.” He walked over and nodded at Viraj, who gave him a cold look.

“You got your hair cut,” Rasika said. “Your ponytail’s gone. And your clothes . . .” Abhay wore a purple button-down shirt with a subtle pattern of dark stripes.

“I’m a working stiff now,” he said. “My first week temping, they let me get away with T-shirts. Now I gotta fit in with the crowd. Mom sent me to the mall to get some work clothes.” He opened the giant white plastic bag he was carrying. “I’m hoping I can get away with some actual color, even in an office.”

Rasika peeked in and saw a blue shirt, similar to the one he had on, and an olive green one with tiny flowers all over it. “Nice.” She felt Viraj glaring at her.

“By the way,” she said, “this is Viraj.”

Abhay leaned over the table and held out a hand to Viraj, whose smile stiffened. He made no move to take Abhay’s hand. He seemed to be grinding his teeth.

“Okay, well, I should go.” Abhay held up his hand in a wave. “See you around.”

“Bye,” Rasika said. “Let’s get together sometime.” She was shocked at her own words, and as Abhay receded, she concentrated on her latte. Viraj was silent. After several seconds she stole a glance at him and saw his mouth contorting, as though he couldn’t get the words out. She took a sip of coffee for something to do, but as soon as she swallowed, she felt it bubble up—the thing she was trying to keep hidden. It frothed and expanded until it burst, and she was laughing hysterically.

She turned away from Viraj and covered her mouth with her hands. She felt her face getting red and her whole body was shaking. She had to remember to close her mouth and swallow, so she wouldn’t drool. It was completely inappropriate; everyone was probably staring at her. She pressed her palms to her belly and took a deep breath. On the exhale, it started again.

“I’m so sorry!” she squeaked.

He stood up. “Let’s get out of here.”

She stood up, too, and trailed behind him, helpless with giggling. By the time they got into the car, she had managed to calm down enough to keep a straight face. During the silent drive home, she tried not to think of how Viraj had looked after Abhay left, but of course she couldn’t help it, and every time she did she felt hysterics coming on again. She dug her fingernails into her palm and that way managed to keep it down to a smile.

As soon as they were in the house, she fled upstairs and locked herself in her bedroom. She could hear what was going on downstairs—Viraj’s loud insistence that they leave right away, and Amma’s high-pitched worrying tones. She felt free behind her bedroom door, taking off her fancy clothes and jewelry. She put on her oldest, softest pair of jeans and her rattiest T-shirt. She stood in front of her dresser mirror and carefully wiped off every trace of makeup. The front door closed, her mother’s footsteps ascended, and she steeled herself for the worst. She unlocked the door just before her mother turned the handle and came in.

She sat on her bed looking up contritely as Amma loomed over her. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Amma.”

“He was very angry. What did you do?”

Rasika looked down at her feet, and then gazed around the room, as though looking for the answer to her mother’s question.

“If you keep throwing away opportunities like this, you will never get properly married. Everyone in India has been scouring the planet for you. We have looked at so many pictures and biodata, and finally you agreed to meet this boy. Now we will have to start the whole process again. Your father is very upset. He can’t even sit still. He is downstairs, pacing the floor.”

Rasika felt terrible about increasing Appa’s stress. She couldn’t explain her actions. Viraj was everything she was looking for, everything her parents were trying to provide for her. Except . . .

“He wanted me to live in New Jersey,” she mumbled. “I want to stay here.”

“And for that you have ruined everything?” her mother screeched. “I came across the ocean with my husband. Did I cry to stay at home with my mother? A woman must follow her husband.”