A Bollywood Affair (24 page)

26

“L
isten, Chintu, my wife is going to kill me and it’s going to be your fault.” Usually Virat wasn’t the dramatic brother—that was Samir’s role.

Samir adjusted the road sign one last time and jumped off the ladder he’d been perched on. The set technician gave him the thumbs up, but Samir still wasn’t sure it was exactly where he needed it to be. He signaled the team to take five minutes until he was done with the call.

“Bhai, I’m working, did you need something?”

“You worked even before you went to America. But you never forgot to call your family. I haven’t talked to you in two months.”

“I spoke with you two days ago, Bhai.”

“You call that talking? All I’ve gotten out of you these past months is monosyllables, Chintu, and frankly you’re scaring the fuck out of me. Rima wants you to come home for Diwali.”

“Can’t do it.”

“Really, that’s your answer? This is your
bhabhi
we’re talking about. She’s going to need more than that.”

“I’m shooting.”

“On Diwali?”

“Early morning the next day.”

“Have you told Baiji you’re not coming home for Diwali?”

“Not yet. Listen, can you tell her for me?”

“No fucking way you’re firing that gun off my shoulder.”

“Then I’ll tell her.”

“Chintu, you know what Baiji’s thinking, right?”

Samir said nothing. He walked to the other end of the street set and looked at it from where the third camera would be. It was still off.

“If you come back from America after spending two weeks with your mother and act like someone died, you know what it looks like to Baiji, right?”

“My
mother
is living with you right now, in Jamnagar.”

“I know.” At least Virat had the decency to sound sheepish. “I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry. But I’m worried about you, damn it.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine. I’m just stressed about the film. There’s still too much to be done.” But first he needed to get off the phone.

“Don’t you want to know what happened with the annulment papers?”

Samir’s heart kicked to life in his chest. He couldn’t speak.

“Malvika signed them. The property case is officially closed. That damn saga is finally over. Whatever you did, it worked like a charm. She even sent the marriage certificate and the
mangalsutra
back. And a box full of saris. Apparently, our grandmother had been sending her a sari for every Teej over the years. What the fuck am I going to do with twenty brand-new saris? They’re all still in their packaging.”

His family had sent her gifts on the Teej festival. His grandfather had used up her dowry. All those rituals. All the promises that went with them.

“Send the saris to the National Women’s Center in Jaipur.” How had she even paid for shipping? The memory of her empty fridge, her empty closet, her empty apartment squeezed his heart.

“Chintu, seriously, what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Why? They have a safe house for women who have nowhere else to go. These women need clothes. What else would you do with the saris?”

“Why the fuck would you know this?”

“It’s one of the charities my accountant pushes for taxes. Sounds useful enough.”

“Fine. And Chintu, call Rima. What they say about pregnant women being hormonal, it’s all true. She spends half the day worrying about what’s wrong with you and the other half driving me crazy about it. If you don’t call her, she’s going to be on a plane and then God help you.”

“I’ll call her.” He should’ve said more, should’ve apologized for being such a bastard of a brother. He’d completely forgotten to call Rima and check up on her this week. The baby was coming. Their lives were about to change forever. How had he forgotten about the baby? But he forgot a lot of things these days. Except the one thing he could not forget, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how many twenty-hour days he worked.

Today he’d been on the set for over fourteen hours, working with the set designer and the technicians to get it exactly right. They had another week before the schedule started and it still looked like a set, not like the low-income housing in the armpit of Mumbai he needed it to look like.

“The street edging is still too perfect, Lawrence. We need more dust, more crumbling mortar.”

His set designer looked exhausted. “Yes, boss. A little more yellow in the whitewash, what? You’re right, in this light it’s too much white.”

“More yellow, more gray streaks too. If the water tank leaks down this wall, we need more water damage.”

“Brilliant, boss. You want to do now? Tomorrow okay?”

The workers were sprawled across the lawn, smoking. They looked like he’d need a crane to move them.

“No, let’s wrap up for today. Seven tomorrow?”

Lawrence nodded in his usual enthusiastic way. “Sam-Sir, you having dinner with us?”

“Thanks, boss, but I can’t. I still need to check the lights and make sure the effect for the night shots is correct.”

“I’ll stay. No problem,” Lawrence said. His set tech was a gem.

“No, Lawrence, I got it. You’ll get the union up in arms if you make the guys work any more.”

“Sam-Sir, for you the guys will stay. No union-
shunion,
not for you.”

Samir patted Lawrence on the shoulder. “Thanks, boss. I’ll need that another day. Not today. Today you go get some rest. Fantastic job so far, thanks.”

The rest of the crew was already at the local bar. The set guys picked themselves off the grass and headed there. If they were offended he wasn’t joining them they didn’t say anything. Usually, he’d be the one buying the drinks for his guys, sharing some smokes with them. He wasn’t a smoker but hanging out with these guys was fun. They had some great stories. They had the dirt on everyone. All the stars, all the producers. Maybe tomorrow.

He pulled out the set sketches and started to study them against the streetscape, trying to put his finger on what wasn’t working.

“Looks really great, Sam.” The practiced husky voice reached him before he saw Neha crossing the lawn. She appraised his set and looked sufficiently impressed.

“Neha, I didn’t know you were shooting here.” He let her air-kiss both cheeks so her glossy pout remained untouched.

“Well, you’ve given up on your old friends, but your friends still care about you.”

Is that why you went to the press and accused me of bashing your face in?
“Thanks,” was all he said.

She ran her fingers over his cheeks. “What’s with the depressed
Devdas
look? I thought you hated stubble. This one’s almost a beard.”

“I do. I just haven’t had the time to shave.”

She took a step closer and strung her arms around his neck, pushing herself into him. He didn’t move but a terrible queasiness rose in his gut.

“I still have your razor in my toilet kit. What say you come back to my room and I can take care of it for you?”

“If you nick me can I go to the magazines with it and cry abuse?”

She unwrapped her arms from around him and stepped away, her pout pushed out in all its glory. “Come on, Sam, baby, don’t be like that. You broke my heart. I was upset.”

Plus it was really good publicity. DJ had told him that Neha was booked solid for the next five years.

“And I withdrew the case. I thought you liked messing with the press. I thought you’d get a laugh out of it.”

He’d got more than just a laugh out of it. He’d got someone to go to bat for him.

“Are you all right? You look ill. I’m sorry, I really didn’t realize you would be so upset about it.”

“I’m not. You’re right, it’s pretty darned funny. I’ve always thought it would be a hoot to be labeled an abuser.”

Her pout turned gargantuan, taking over her entire face. Huge tears pooled in her eyes. He couldn’t stand to stay and watch. He couldn’t even get himself to say good-bye. He turned and walked away.

“Sam,” she called after him, her voice rising in pitch. “Sam, come back. I’m sorry.”

Fuck, he really was turning into a drama queen.

 

Samir no longer woke up with nightmares. Now he woke up from erotic dreams with such intense pain in his heart he wished for the nightmares. But his dreams were the only time he got to hold Mili, to feel her against him. And it was so real, he fell asleep every night praying for it, the pain afterward be damned.

He clutched his pillow and sat up in bed, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. The guest rooms in the studio complex weren’t half bad. The owner had done a good job with the place. He’d skipped the glitzy granite and glass and gone rustic. Lots of natural stone, wood, and terra-cotta. Samir walked to the balcony that overlooked the Matheran mountain. In the dark, only the gray outline of the mountain was visible against a moonlit sky, but during the day it was magnificent, all red earth and lush green woods.

Like everything else these days the silence made him restless, and he reached for the phone. There was only one person he could call at this hour.

“Hello,
beta.
” Sara’s voice didn’t seem as raspy and tired as usual. There could be only one reason for her cheery tone.

Suddenly Samir wished he hadn’t called. Then just as suddenly he was glad he had. He settled into the rattan rocking chair. “How are you, Sara?”

“Don’t I sound good?”

“You sound really good.” Over the two weeks he had spent with her after Mili threw him out, she had progressively gotten stronger and more cheerful. It had been the most hellish two weeks of Samir’s life but he couldn’t have spent it anywhere else. Sara didn’t know him. Didn’t question him. Essentially she had left him alone and been happy with whatever time he spent sitting next to her as she rested after her radiation.

“Mili was here with her friend today. They stayed and made lunch with Kim. Mili makes the best rotis, did you know that? But that friend of hers, she’d burn water.”

“Sounds like you had fun.”

“It’s great that Mili comes to see me.”

He had no idea why she did it. But he couldn’t imagine her not doing it either. “How is she?”

“Why don’t you call and ask her yourself?”

“How’s Kim?”

“She’s fine too. She didn’t feel too good this week. It’s hard on her taking care of me. She’s the older one, you know. She gets tired.”

“Someone should be taking care of both of you.” They shouldn’t be stuck like that alone, taking care of each other, waiting for visitors to cheer them up. Suddenly he had an idea.

“Sara, would you . . . would you come here to India? Come stay with me? Let me take care of you?”

She went completely silent for a long moment. “Are you serious?” He heard a sob.

“I’m absolutely serious.” Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

“Let me think about it. Let me talk to Kim. But Samir, just that you asked. Thanks, son.”

“Sure, Sara. Think about it. I’ll talk to my lawyers and see what paperwork we need if you decide to come.”

“Mill, you’re not seriously going back to the library. You spend all your time either at the library or at Pierce Hall. I never get to see you anymore.” Ridhi pulled her shiny new car into the smelly parking lot.

“Ridhi, I just spent two hours in the car and four hours in Sara’s house with you.” Mili pushed her door open and got out of the car.

“Yeah, four hours of having a mother rave about her son.” Ridhi followed Mili up the stairs. “Why don’t you just tell her what a bastard her son really is? I mean, what kind of son leaves his mother to die by herself?”

Mili let them into the apartment and tried to muster the energy to respond. “Sara’s not dying. She’s actually responding to radiation beautifully. Her past two scans have been cancer-free.” She didn’t tell Ridhi that she believed it was because she was finally able to talk about her son. Talk
to
her son.

“I hope so. She has been getting better each time we go see her. Are you sure you don’t want to come eat dinner with Ravi and me?”

Ridhi had moved back on campus to finish out the semester. Ravi lived in Dallas. They had an apartment there and they visited each other on weekends. Ridhi’s parents had taken one look at the apartment she shared with Mili and bought her a condo in Ann Arbor a few miles away. Ridhi was well and truly over her rebellious phase and she had gladly moved out. Now if she would only stop trying to get Mili to move in with her.

Thanks to the paper Mili had coauthored with Dr. Bernstein she had won another fellowship and it had more than solved her rent problem. She was almost done with her course and she wasn’t going anywhere until it was time to go back home next month. Plus the reason they had an apartment was so Ravi and Ridhi could have their privacy when he was here. Mili had no interest in being the bone in that kebab. Also, much as she hated her apartment, she wasn’t ready to let it go.