The Weight of Heaven (19 page)

dirty-looking note, which he held out to Frank. They noticed that

the boy was keeping his eyes on the ground.

“What’s this for, Ramesh?” Frank asked, smoothing the creased

twenty-rupee note.

The boy kept staring at the ground. “Ma gave it to me,” he said.

“As spending money.” He finally looked up and around at the room

and was attacked by a fresh bout of sobs. “But this room must cost

so-so much money, Frank. You take this.”

Ellie reached him first. “Oh, honey,” she said. “It’s okay. We can

afford this.” She kissed Ramesh on his head. “It’s very sweet of you

to offer. But you keep this money, okay?”

The boy shook his head vigorously. “No, I want to give it. You

take it.”

“Tell you what, kiddo,” Frank said. “How about you save it for

us? And maybe you can buy us all ice cream later today?”

Ramesh thought for a moment. “Okay,” he said. The three of

them sat on the bed in silence for a moment. Frank threw Ellie a

look. See this boy’s character? the look said. See how sensitive

Ramesh is? But Ellie gazed back at him expressionless, and he was

perturbed by the fact that he had no idea what she was thinking.

“Where am I sleeping?” Ramesh asked. “On the floor?”

“No, bud.” Frank laughed. “We’ll have a cot brought in for you.

That okay?”

1 3 0 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

“Okay.”

Frank rose from the bed and stretched. “Well? What do you guys

want to do the rest of the afternoon?” He knew what the plan for the

weekend was—attend the picnic thrown by the consulate general

tomorrow afternoon and then visit the Elephanta Caves, which Ellie

so badly wanted to see, on Sunday. But that still left the rest of the

afternoon open today.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Ellie said promptly. “I’m tired.”

Frank was about to protest but then thought better of it. It would

be nice to spend some time alone with the boy. “How about if I take

him out for a couple of hours?” he asked. “Show him the Gateway

to India, maybe take a quick swim in the pool? Will that give you

enough time alone?”

Something darkened in Ellie’s eyes, but when she spoke her voice

was noncommittal. “It’s not that I want to be alone, hon. I just need

a quick nap, that’s all.”

“I understand,” he said quickly, afraid that she would change her

mind and decide to accompany them. He looked at her, wondering

if she had caught the pulse of eagerness in his voice, wondering if he

was imagining the fact that the air between them suddenly seemed

charged and tense. There was a time when Ellie’s face had been like

a movie screen, so that it registered every emotion she was feeling

and her thoughts. When had she learned to slam her face shut like a

door? Or had he simply lost the ability to read her? He remembered

what he’d whispered to her on their wedding day—You are part of

me; you live on my skin. He had repeated those words to her a million times since. And yet here he was today, trying to shake her off,

trying to sneak a few hours of guiltless enjoyment with Ramesh.

He turned away, afraid of letting any of this register on his face.

“We’ll see you later,” he said and then, over his shoulder, “Come

on, Ramesh. Put on the swimming trunks Ellie bought you, under

your shorts.”

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 1 3 1

How lovely it was to see the beautiful stone arch of the Gateway of India and share its history with Ramesh, what a pleasure it

was to tell him about the similar-looking Arc de Triomphe in Paris,

to describe to him the Parisian bakeries and bistros. How wonderful to stroll down the sidewalk beside the sea, dodging the beggars

and the peanut vendors and the balloon sellers who were following them. Frank looked down with affection at the shiny head of

the shiny boy who walked beside him. “You okay, bud?” he said.

“You’re not scared, are you?”

Ramesh shook his head. “No,” he said. “I like this Bombay. Even

the beggars here are nice. Less sick.”

Frank laughed at Ramesh’s perceptiveness. “You’re right, sweetie.

This is a wealthy area. So, I guess, even the beggars are richer.”

Ramesh giggled. “You called me sweetie.”

“So?”

“So . . .” The boy lowered his voice to guard from the most

persistent street urchins who were still following them, “only

boyfriend-girlfriends is allowed to call sweetie.” He gave Frank a

look that was equal parts bravado and shyness.

Frank pretended to be outraged. “Ramesh. You naughty boy.

Who taught you about girlfriends and boyfriends?”

“A girl in my school,” Ramesh said. “She say she will marry me.”

“And do you like her?”

He shrugged. “She fine.”

Frank grinned. “She’s fine? Fine? That’s not enough to marry

someone.” He suddenly grew serious. “Besides, my boy, you have

to focus on your studies, right? No time for girlfriends, you hear?”

Ramesh nodded vigorously. “I know, I know.” He glanced up at

Frank again, as if trying to gauge something. Then, “She kiss me

once. On my nose.”

“She kissed you on your
nose
?”

“Don’t laugh.” Ramesh sounded cross. He stopped walking

1 3 2 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

and putting a hand on one hip, looked up at Frank in exasperation.

“That’s what mother-father do,” he explained. “Before a baby is

born.”

Frank heard the frustration and something else—uncertainty—

in Ramesh’s voice. He stopped walking, too. “Come here,” he said,

drawing the boy toward the cement wall. “Let’s sit for a moment.”

He kept his arm around him as he considered his choices. Was this

the right time to teach this boy about the birds and the bees? Was

that even his place? Did Indian parents have these conversations

with their children? Prakash and Edna had obviously not, and the

thought annoyed him. Surely the boy was old enough to know the

workings of his body? Ramesh had always struck him as less mature

than his American counterparts, but still, it was ridiculous to think

that a woman got pregnant from a kiss on the nose. He suddenly

wished Ellie was here. She’d know how to handle this.

“Who told you that a woman can have a baby from a kiss?” he

asked cautiously.

“Parvati did,” he replied. “My school friend.”

Frank saw his opening. “And is Parvati going to have a baby?

Because she kissed you?”

Ramesh looked at him as if he was an imbecile. “No, Frank,” he

said patiently. “
She
kiss
me.
To have the baby, the boyfriend has to

kiss the girlfriend.”

Frank gulped hard and looked out at the water. “I see,” he said. It

occurred to him that he would have never had to have such a difficult

conversation with Benny. He and Ellie had always been candid with

their son, and Ellie had on more than one occasion told their son

matter-of-factly that a daddy had to stick his penis inside a mommy

for a baby to be born. Ellie had been emphatic about sparing their

son any confusion and puzzlement about sex. Even some of their

friends had been a little shocked at their pragmatic approach. Frank

remembered the time Ellie’s mother, Delores, was visiting them in

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 1 3 3

Ann Arbor and had insisted on bathing her three-year-old grandson. He and Ellie had heard their son announce, “Grandma, that’s

not my pee-pee. That’s my penis.” The look on Delores’s face, they

agreed, was, as the commercial said, priceless.

Still, with Ramesh, he hesitated. How much easier this would

be if Ramesh was his son. If he knew that this boy would grow up

in the progressive, intellectual environment of Ann Arbor. But the

fact was, Ramesh was someone else’s boy. He belonged to a father

who seemed content to let the boy raise himself. And besides, Frank

knew how weird Indians were about sex, was aware of the odd combination of female prudery and male aggression that was the hallmark of Bollywood movies and, for all he knew, the culture itself. It

was not his place to educate Ramesh about sex, and his heart sank

at the realization.

Ramesh was wriggling beside him, eager to resume their stroll,

and Frank took the hint. “Listen,” he said as they walked. “No getting distracted by the girls, okay? You have to focus on your studies,

remember?”

“I remember,” Ramesh said.

Frank hesitated for a second and then set free the words that had

formed at his lips. “Besides, if you’re to study in America you have

to have good grades.”

“I am already first in my class, Frank.” Ramesh’s voice was

plaintive.

“I know, kiddo. But it’s very, very difficult to get into good

schools.” He pointed to where a group of obviously affluent, westernized college students were leaning against a Honda. “You see

those people? That’s who you will be competing against even to go

to college in Bombay.”

Ramesh stared at the group of boys in their blue jeans and thin

cotton shirts. His eyes grew big and his chin trembled, and seeing

this, Frank cussed himself for his stupidity. “Luckily,” he continued

1 3 4 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

brightly, “you don’t have to worry about this today.” He stopped

and cocked his head as he looked at Ramesh. “Want to walk more?

Or shall we go for a swim in the pool?”

Ramesh tore his eyes away from the group of laughing boys.

“Let’s go pool-swimming,” he said, and Frank remembered what

the boy had told them on the way to Bombay: that he’d never swum

in a pool before.

“Okay,” he said. “And then let’s go wake Ellie up and go out

somewhere. We have to celebrate your first trip to Bombay.”

Ramesh held his hand as they crossed the street.

Chapter 12

The Fourth of July picnic was held on the grounds of a large stone

house in Malabar Hill. Frank and Ellie exchanged looks as Satish

pulled up to the wrought-iron gate. Frank whistled. “Man. I could

get used to living in these digs.” He turned to Ramesh. “This neighborhood is where the governor has his house. Can you imagine what

his
house must look like?”

Ramesh looked small and scared inside the car. He pulled on the

collar of the light green shirt Ellie had bought him for the occasion.

Like Frank, he was dressed in cream-colored chinos.

Satish stopped and lowered his window as a young American

carrying a clipboard hurried up to them. He was accompanied by

an intimidating-looking man in a suit and wraparound sunglasses.

The young man leaned into the car. “Hi,” he said. “Welcome. May

I get your names?”

Frank lowered his window and handed him the invitation card.

The young man checked off their names on his list. “Welcome, Mr.

and Mrs. Benton,” he said smiling brightly. Then the smile left his

face as he peered into the car and spotted Ramesh. “And who is

this?”

“He’s with us,” Frank said. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

1 3 6 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

The young man frowned. “I don’t understand,” he said scanning

his list. “He’s not on here. And your RSVP says two attendees.”

Frank felt the heat rise to his face. “He’s my son,” he said.

“He—we didn’t decide to bring him until the last minute. And the

invitation said kids were welcome.” He felt Ellie put a warning hand

on his thigh. “Would you like me to take this up with Tom Andrews?” Tom was the U.S. consul general to Bombay, and the host

of this party.

“There will be no need for that, sir,” the young man said smoothly.

“Glad to accommodate your—son. Have a wonderful day.”

Frank realized his teeth were clenched as Satish eased the Camry

into the long, curved driveway. Beside him, he heard Ellie swear.

“Friggin’ bureaucrats. These were exactly the kind of people we

spent our whole lives avoiding. And now we have to spend the whole

day with them.”

Ellie’s words broke the tension, and he laughed out loud. Also,

he was grateful for the fact that she was directing her anger at the

man with the clipboard and not at him, that she wasn’t hurt by the

fact that he had referred to Ramesh as their son. “You better behave

yourself, babe.” He grinned

“Arre baap
,” Ramesh breathed as they pulled closer to the house

and saw its opulence. He looked up at them. “Does the maharaja of

Mumbai live here?”

But there was no time to answer because someone was flagging

them down. They got out of the car, and Satish handed over the car

keys. “I will pick you up later, sir,” he said. “Enjoy.”

They stood in the driveway, torn between wanting to join the

crowd that had already gathered on the lawn but knowing that protocol demanded that they first seek Tom out and say their hellos.

They walked up the five marble steps that led into an enormous

room with a mosaic-tiled floor and a high ceiling. Tom Andrews

was standing there, surrounded by a gaggle of the other guests.

Frank shook hands with many of the other American businessmen

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 1 3 7

as they slowly approached the consul general. He didn’t expect Tom

to remember his name and so was astonished when he heard him

say, “Hey, Frank. Good to see you again. How the hell you been?