And Laughter Fell From the Sky (11 page)

“You must come to our place for dinner,” Auntie said. “We never see you. Come for dinner one Friday, and stay with us the whole weekend. We will rent all kinds of Hindi movies. Some of them have English subtitles.”

As much as she liked Deepti Auntie, she didn’t want to spend a whole weekend at their apartment in Cleveland, especially since she was now aware of Subhash’s wishes. “Sure, I’ll do that sometime,” she said vaguely.

Subhash and his parents seated themselves at the table. Rasika sat back down. It seemed like every relationship in this room was a potential minefield. So far, Mita Auntie had not brought up Abhay at all. She had been happy to discuss the appropriateness of this marriage and of Amisha’s family in general. “He seems like very nice boy,” Mita Auntie was saying in English. Her mother tongue was Hindi, and so she spoke to Rasika’s family in English. “So polite.”

The groom had an overhanging brow and a bumpy nose, as though it had blisters all over it. Amisha, standing next to him, seemed oblivious to the fact that she had just yoked herself to a baboon. She seemed to be thinking of nothing except the food she was serving herself.

“And she has just been offered very good job,” Mita Auntie gushed. “She will work for St. John’s Hospital.”

“Doing what?” Rasika’s mother snapped. “She’s not a doctor.”

Rasika knew her mother was irritable today, although she’d taken the news about Dilip surprisingly well. A delay in plans was better than an end to them.

“In human resources,” Mita Auntie said. “That is her degree, you know. She will be making very good salary.”

“She will have to support him, I suppose.” Amma said this to the air above Mita Auntie’s head. She always spoke to the air when she was trying to pretend she wasn’t being nasty. “It is difficult for people from India to get a job here.”

“He has already had offers, I heard. He is very brilliant.”

How did Amisha, of all people, end up marrying appropriately and thus surpassing Rasika? Amisha was so average, yet she always seemed happy flying under the radar. In high school she was one of those girls who were always getting involved with something, being the treasurer of the student council, helping to paint sets for the school play. She was never the leader, but this didn’t seem to bother her. She not only didn’t aspire to stardom, but she also seemed to imply, by her complacency, that her own role was after all the most important anyway, even if no one else realized it.

“Here comes Venika,” Amma said.

Rasika’s heart tightened as Abhay’s mother walked toward them. At least Abhay was nowhere in sight at the moment.

“She has gotten involved with some new business,” Amma continued. “She will tell you all about it.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Mita Auntie grinned conspiratorially at Rasika. “You will never guess where I met Rasika.”

Venika Auntie was upon them. She had cut her hair recently and looked even younger than before. Except for the dark circles under her eyes, which had been there since Rasika remembered, she could pass for thirty. She bent down and put both hands on Mita Auntie’s shoulders. “So nice to see you again!”

Mita Auntie looked up at Venika. “I was just telling Sujata—by chance, I saw Rasika and Abhay at hotel when we arrived.”

Mita Auntie had a high, piercing voice, audible to anyone at the table. Rasika noticed that Subhash was looking at them from across the table.

The lights above the table blinked on. Rasika startled for a moment, and then smiled brightly. “It was really a coincidence, wasn’t it? Seeing both you and Abhay there at the same time.”

“Last night?” Amma’s eyes narrowed. “It must have been someone else. Rasika was at home.”

“We arrived Friday,” Mita Auntie explained. “Our plane was late. We are standing in lobby waiting for Kanchan to finish registration, and I saw Abhay. He was just leaving. And then, Kanchan saw Rasika!”

Rasika kept on smiling. “I was so surprised! I was just finishing up dinner with a friend, and there was Kanchan Uncle!”

Venika Auntie smiled her sleepy smile. “Abhay told some time ago he saw you,” she said.

The table grew silent. Subhash was still looking at them. Rasika forced a laugh. “I ran into him about a week ago at a restaurant, and then again at the hotel. We seem to keep bumping into each other.”

“That is good you and Abhay are meeting. Maybe you can talk sense to him.” Venika Auntie drew a business card out of her purse and handed it to Mita Auntie. “I am marketing representative for some really wonderful educational products. Your children are older, I know, but if you know someone else interested, please give me call.”

Mita Auntie looked the card over. “We are so far away.”

“I can sell anywhere. Any part of country. We will ship all over.”

Mita Auntie nodded and smiled and kept looking at the card. Rasika was glad her mother had never tried to sell things to her friends. Venika Auntie drifted away to the next table. A uniformed server asked their table to go to the buffet, and Rasika leaped up to get away from her mother’s icy glare.

Amma stood close behind Rasika in the line and whispered, “What is this about you and Abhay?”

“I just saw him a couple of times. It was by accident.” Abhay’s table was coming up to the buffet line. If she were unlucky, she’d end up facing him over the buffet. She’d just have to be as matter-of-fact as possible.

“It doesn’t look good,” Amma said. “I know you don’t mean anything by it, but others will talk. He is nothing. He got good grades in school, but he has no sense. You don’t want to ruin your chances now. What if the news got around to Dilip’s family that you were seen with another boy?”

“I wasn’t even with him. I can’t help it if Mita Auntie saw us at the same place.”

“And what were you doing out at some hotel? You told me you stayed home all evening. I don’t know why you lie to me. We don’t prevent you from having fun. If you want to go out with some girlfriends, why should I object? You have all the freedom you want. All I ask is that you stay away from boys.”

Rasika listened, knowing that if she allowed her mother to scold without interruption, it would soon be over.

“Do you think I could move about like you do, at your age?” Amma hissed. “I was married. I had to ask my husband’s permission before doing anything. And before marriage, I had to ask my father’s permission. I didn’t have my own car. I didn’t have my own job. You have all of this, and still you lie. What is there to lie about? I don’t know why you would bother. You cannot want to marry Abhay. And not just because of his caste. I can be open-minded if the boy is really special, but what has he done with himself? He has thrown away every opportunity. His wife will be supporting him.”

“I’m not interested in him, Amma.”

“We are strict with you for your own good. You don’t want to turn out like Nita, do you?”

Nita was the daughter of an unconventional Indian couple in their community. Rasika shifted her eyes slightly to look at Nita’s parents, standing and chatting at a table nearby. Rupal Auntie had short graying hair. Instead of a silk sari with a gold border, such as most of the other women were wearing, she wore a cotton sari with a pattern of small tie-dyed diamonds and dots. It was a cute, tribal sort of sari, but not appropriate for a wedding reception. Sri Uncle wore a dress shirt, but it looked wrinkled, as though he’d just gotten up from fixing a pipe—he owned a plumbing repair company, even though he was a trained engineer. Rasika was very familiar with their story, since her parents often used them as an example of what not to do. Theirs had not been an arranged marriage: she was from a Punjabi family, raised in Delhi, and he was a Tamilian boy who had somehow gone astray. They’d waited several years after marriage to produce a child. Nita had grown up without the usual restrictions placed by Indian parents: she had dated and participated as a dancer in school musicals wearing next to nothing, and had worked as a bartender during college. Now she lived in Alaska, of all places, working at some sort of hiking tour service. No, Rasika didn’t want to turn out like Nita.

Abhay’s family shuffled into the opposite line, and Rasika stepped back slightly in an attempt to get out of Abhay’s line of sight.

“That family,” Amma said. “They have so much potential. What do they do with it? His sister has no idea how to dress. If she would only smile, it might be okay.”

Dark and skinny, Seema was the only female in the room not wearing Indian clothes. She was in a black ankle-length skirt and black sandals and a black T-shirt.

Rasika touched the gold and diamond necklace at her throat, picked up a plate, and waited while the person ahead of her selected a few flat, greasy pooris.

Abhay wished he hadn’t agreed to come to this reception. His cab ride home from the hotel had cost him over a hundred dollars, and in the cab he’d vowed to himself never to see Rasika again.

Last night he’d gone over to Chris’s house for the barbecue and had tried to enter into the casual cheerfulness of everyone there. Several friends from high school were there, and they all called him “Adios.” He’d had trouble remembering some of their names. He’d eaten a hamburger, and Mrs. Haldorson’s famous potato salad, and Mr. Haldorson’s famous cheesecake, and had listened to Emily Nuttman’s husband describe his job as a commemorative jewelry salesman. Abhay had come home with a stomachache, and had tried to persuade his mother that he was too sick to attend the reception. His mom made him some fennel tea and urged him to make an appearance. Besides, he had to admit that, against his will, he was desperate to see Rasika again.

Now Rasika was pretending he didn’t exist. What else did he expect? Yesterday, despite his efforts to distract himself, he’d been unable to think about anything except her. He was infatuated with her. He had tried, all day, to list in his mind her good qualities and faults, in order to bring some order and logic to his runaway feelings. On the one hand, he told himself, she was gorgeous, and even though she didn’t see the world as he did, she was still curious and possessed some wisdom. He kept thinking about what she’d said in the hotel room—that he was waiting to start living. That was true. But how long was he going to go on like this, killing time because he couldn’t make up his mind? Maybe it would be better to follow her advice, to pick something and just do it. If he were with her, maybe she could help him to see his path more clearly.

On the other hand, she was a liar and a cheat. There was no denying that. Yet he desperately wanted to be with her again. That’s what she did to a lot of men, probably—messed up their heads and then left.

It was his turn to take a plate. Rasika was on the opposite side of the table. He glanced at her over the steaming chafing dishes, wondering how she would act. She was all dolled up in proper Indian clothes, with a sparkly kumkum on her forehead and the requisite gold jewelry.

She raised her eyebrows and smiled, as though surprised at his presence. “Hi, again. I was just telling Amma that I keep running into you.” Her manner was casual and unconcerned. He had to admit, she was a terrific liar.

“How are you, Abhay?” Rasika’s mother gave him one of her cool smiles. “What do you plan to do now that you are home?”

“I’m still exploring,” he said.

His mother turned to Sujata. “Further studies he is thinking.”

“In what field?” Sujata Auntie sifted through the pakodas with a pair of tongs. Most of them had already fallen apart, their onion or chili filling separated from the batter coating. “What is your background, exactly?” She selected one whole pakoda and dropped it onto her plate.

“Law we are telling him to look,” his mother said. “Good background for law he has.”

Abhay served himself some rice that wasn’t too dried out. The buffet already looked unappetizing and picked over.

“Rasika, what about you?” his mother asked. “When you will invite me to your wedding?”

“We are very close to making the announcement,” Sujata Auntie said.

A papadum slipped out of Abhay’s hand to the floor. He bent down, retrieved the thin wafer, and took his time inspecting it for dirt. When he straightened, Rasika was smiling demurely at her plate. Sujata Auntie, head held high, pursed her lips, as though to prevent the good news from escaping prematurely. Was Rasika putting on an act, or had she really agreed to marry the guy she’d seen the day before?

She began to glow with a golden light. He blinked. Still she glowed, and appeared to be slowly expanding, filling up his vision with her presence. She was a goddess, and he was falling in love with her. What was he going to do about it? He stirred the mutter paneer to see if there were any pieces of cheese left and, finding none, poured a spoonful of peas onto his rice.

At the end of the buffet line Rasika turned and Abhay couldn’t help but drift after her, like a leaf caught in a current. He balanced his plate and napkin in one hand and touched her shoulder through the golden glow. He was surprised to feel her solidness. She stopped and glared at him.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Sujata Auntie, standing several feet away, stared at him. If she’d heard, he didn’t care.

For an instant, Rasika looked at him with stunned eyes. Then she composed herself, crinkled her eyes, and gave a hollow laugh. “Very funny.”

“Meet me tomorrow,” he whispered. “After work, at the Fox and Hound.”