“What?” Anil said. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to get no attention from senior staff? To have no one remember your name? Hell, not even know how to pronounce your name? To scrounge for references for your fellowship application, to have no one sponsor your research project?” Anil shook his head. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Hey, man,” Trey said, “I didn’t mean—”
Anil interjected, unable to stop. “You have no idea how lucky you are, Trey, how much harder it is for everyone else.”
“Sorry, man.” Trey stretched out his foot to reach the Coke bottle and rolled it back and forth under the sole of his loafer. “What’s your research project about?”
Anil described his cardiology research topic in general terms, still a little leery of Trey’s intentions. “I’ve been making good progress analyzing the ER data on my own, but it would help if I had a senior doctor to help navigate the other departments.”
“I might be able to help with that,” Trey said.
Anil shifted in his chair to avoid the sun beaming into his eyes. “How?”
“I can ask Singer or Martin if they’re interested. They’re both friends with my old man, but he made me work with Tanaka, since he’s top dog. Give me your research brief and I’ll ask them.”
Anil cocked his head, squinting at Trey through the sunlight. “Why would you do that?”
“Why not?” Trey shrugged. “I owe you, man.”
FOR THE rest of the afternoon, as Anil finished out his shift, he felt a slight lift from the stress overshadowing him. For the first time in months, there was hope for his research study and, therefore, his fellowship prospects.
Lunch had not been at all what he’d expected; he found himself empathizing with Trey and the pressure he felt from his father. Anil could easily recall the weight of obligation he felt when returning to Panchanagar. It was no excuse for the amphetamines, but Trey seemed sincere about quitting, and that was the point, after all. Everyone could be forgiven a transgression here or there. Like Leena’s shelf full of wobbly clay pots, mistakes were a part of life: the inevitable and essential element that helped make sense of everything else. The nakedness of the unglazed bowl revealed the imprint of her fingertips. Invisible cracks rendered a cup impractical for water, but not gauze. Many people had tolerated Anil’s imperfections: Sonia had kept teaching him after he failed her, and Baldev hadn’t blamed him for the attack he suffered, nor had Amber for failing to defend her. And now, Trey was offering him a real shot at his dream.
If Anil reported him, Trey’s career would almost certainly be ruined, not to mention his relationship with his father. Anil still carried a deep void for Papa—a longing that could never be filled, a guilt that would never be eased. How could he inflict that kind of damage on someone else? Regardless of the mistakes Trey had made, Anil had seen him at work for years now, and although it stung to admit, there was little doubt Trey Crandall would make an excellent physician, probably better than Anil himself.
27
ANIL ARRIVED HOME TO AN UNFAMILIAR AROMA FROM THE kitchen. Brown paper bags littered the floor, and the counter was covered with ingredients in various stages of preparation. Trinity was stirring a pot on the stove. “Anil!” she called out. “Perfect timing. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Hi, Trinity.” After a day of complicated and disheartening conversations, Trinity’s unfailing serenity was the perfect antidote. Anil understood why Baldev enjoyed her company so much. He peered into the pot and caught a pungent combination of spices and onions.
“Moroccan vegetable curry,” she declared. “Totally vegan.”
Anil was confounded by this concept. He was accustomed to vegetarianism as the norm in India, and some strict religious sects even wore masks to avoid inhaling bugs, but he didn’t understand the elimination of dairy products as Trinity explained it. No animals were killed by the use of dairy. In fact, cows and goats were an integral part of their farming community in Panchanagar. To not use the milk they produced was to defy the natural order of things he’d learned on the farm, not to mention wasteful. He couldn’t imagine chai without milk, or any Indian meal without yogurt, or any dessert made without ghee.
Fortunately, for all her veganthusiasm, Trinity was not imposing about her beliefs, and Anil was grateful for anyone cooking dinner.
“Smells delicious,” he said.
“It’ll be ready in half an hour. Baldev’s in the shower. We just got back from the gym.”
On his way to his room, Anil ran into Baldev, emerging from the steamy bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. The definition of new muscle in his shoulders and chest was evident. “Hey, man, come talk to me while I get dressed,” Baldev said.
Baldev had no trouble strutting around unclothed. Normally, Anil would avoid such a situation, but he wanted to discuss what had happened with Trey, so he followed Baldev into his room and sat on a corner of the unmade bed. “The curry looks good,” he offered. “So this vegan thing, are you—?”
“Nah.” Baldev waved away Anil’s question. “I get a burger for lunch every day so I can make it through dinner.” He smiled. “Trinity knows. She’s cool with it.”
“So is it serious?”
“What, with her?” Baldev pointed his thumb toward the kitchen. He closed the bedroom door. “I don’t know, man. I thought it was just fun, but she’s really cool, you know? So yeah, maybe I can see it getting serious. If she doesn’t get fed up with a knucklehead like me. She’s probably too smart for me.”
“Doesn’t take much,” Anil said. Baldev grinned and dropped his towel and Anil kept his eyes trained on the floor. “Hey, let me ask you something. Something happened last week at the hospital—” he began.
From the hallway came the sound of the front door opening and closing, then Mahesh’s voice followed by Trinity’s. “Dinner’s ready!”
“Yeah?” Baldev sprayed an excessive amount of scented deodorant under each arm.
“Never mind.” Anil stood up. “Let’s go eat.” This was not the kind of matter he wanted to discuss around Mahesh, whose tolerance for shades of gray was the same as for Mexican beans of uncertain origin.
THE MOROCCAN vegetable curry was quite good, despite Trinity’s experimental addition of Anil’s tea masala she’d found in the kitchen cupboard. Over dinner, they discussed the success of Mahesh’s recent big software release at work.
“It has the fewest bugs reported of any release in the company’s history, despite its size and complexity,” Mahesh said.
They clinked their glasses in congratulations. “And”—Trinity wrapped her arm around Baldev’s shoulders—“I’m proud to report Baldev hit a major milestone today. He’s regained full mobility in his knee and his arm, and he’s stronger than he was before the injuries.”
Baldev held up his hands while they cheered. “Six long, hard months that would have been even longer and harder without this wonderful lady.” He pulled Trinity toward him and kissed her cheek.
“And, there’s more . . .” Trinity glanced over at Baldev.
“Yes.” Baldev wiped his mouth. “I’ve been asked by the company to take on a new position, overseeing a large team.” He looked at rinity, then around the table. “In Bangalore.”
“Bangalore?” Anil laid down his spoon.
“Wow,” Mahesh said.
“Yeah, the company wants to groom me for a management position, so I need to spend a couple of years learning customer support. I’d be managing the call center in Bangalore.”
“Bangalore,” Anil repeated. Of the three of them, Baldev had always been the most removed from India, the only one who never spoke about going back. “Really? Are you . . . you’re not . . . thinking of going?” He was reluctant to say more in front of Trinity. Did Baldev really want to give up his whole life here, his girlfriend?
Baldev shrugged. “You know, at first I didn’t consider it, but it’s only for a couple of years. And if I do well, I’l
l get a big promotion when I come back. It’s a good career move.”
“It’s a great opportunity,” Mahesh concurred. “Bangalore is on fire right now.”
“Well, I think he should do it,” Trinity said. “I would love to go to India.” She gave Baldev a prolonged kiss on the cheek. Their outward giddiness was at odds with the melancholy Anil felt descending upon him.
“So much good news! We should celebrate.” Trinity clapped her hands together. “Let’s throw a party. Isn’t Diwali next weekend?”
“How did you know that?” Baldev asked, leaning toward her.
She winked at him. “The lab tech told me.”
“Yeah, I think a Diwali party’s a great idea,” Mahesh said. Anil and Baldev exchanged a glance. Crowds of people and loud music in their home ran counter to Mahesh’s preference for meticulous order. “We can get the food from Taj Chaat House—”
“And make a dance floor.” Baldev motioned to their sparsely furnished living room. “I’ve got a great bhangra mix, and there are some new speakers at the store I’ve had my eye on.”
OVER THE next week, their dreary beige apartment underwent a full transformation; each night when Anil came home he noticed a new change. Cases of beer and soft drinks were stacked next to the dining area. The furniture in the living area was pushed out to the perimeter. Strings of Christmas lights were wrapped around the potted plants, and floral garlands were hung in doorways. Anil invited Charlie and a few other residents to the party, but despite Baldev’s prodding and the fact that she was the only other Indian person he knew in Dallas, he did not invite Sonia, wary of not being able to relax around someone who still wrote his evaluations.
The night of the party, Trinity’s friends were the first to show up: earthy, athletic girls like her who had all gone to UT Austin together. Not one of them wore makeup or heels. They brought bottles of light beer and hard cider, and devoured samosas as they discussed their latest book club selection, the memoir of an Afghani schoolgirl. Baldev’s buddies from work clustered around the sound system he had rigged in the living room, testing the upper limits of its volume. Soon, the bhangra dance mix was pumping through the speakers and people were milling around, drinking and eating.
In between shuttling trays of food from the oven and refilling bowls of chutney, Mahesh hovered around the front door to welcome guests as they arrived. Anil found the sudden onset of Mahesh’s hosting persona amusing, and was about to urge him to join the party when the doorbell rang again.
Yaalini was not at all what Anil had expected of a hard-driving software engineer. Dressed in a deep-blue and silver salwar khameez, she was no taller than five feet, with a sweet face framed by curly hair. Mahesh’s expression was transformed into a broad smile. He took her purse and shawl, then walked her over to the buffet table. Anil watched from the couch as Mahesh leaned closer to her when he spoke and Yaalini threw her head back and laughed freely. His roommate was not known for his sense of humor.
“WHY DIDN’T you tell us?” Anil asked the next morning over breakfast.
Mahesh shrugged, stirring his tea. “I didn’t even know what was happening. It took me by surprise. We started as friends—well, we really started as colleagues—and as we spent more time together, it just grew . . .” He smiled. “She’s so easy to get along with. We can talk about Bollywood films and music, we enjoy the same food—she makes the best masala dosa, by the way. And she understands my work. I can talk to her about anything.”
“It’s like dating the female version of yourself.” Baldev grinned. “Only you’re much uglier.” Mahesh pushed Baldev’s shoulder and he groaned, already nursing a hangover.
“How long has it been?” Anil asked.
“I don’t know, a few months?” Mahesh said. “Four and a half, actually.”
Baldev clucked his tongue and exaggerated his Indian accent. “All this time, you’ve been lying to us, your family?”
The smile on Mahesh’s face faded.
“Come on, you know I’m kidding.” Baldev slapped his arm playfully. “We’re happy for you, man. You’ve finally found love, and not in a bio-data envelope. Think of all the money you could’ve saved your parents on matrimonial ads.”
Mahesh stared into his mug, stirring absentmindedly.
“You haven’t told your family, have you?” Anil asked.
Mahesh shook his head. “I didn’t think of her that way, in the beginning, because she’s Tamil. I thought she wasn’t what I was looking for; we were too different. But all those differences—Gujarati and Tamil, Vaishyas and Brahmins—they don’t matter over here. No one knows the difference between a South Indian and a Sikh, or a Patel and a Punjabi. People at work tease us about being brother and sister just because we’re both Indian. Maybe if we met in India—if we even met in India—we wouldn’t have anything in common. But over here, everything that’s important we do share.” Mahesh’s voice was gathering strength as he spoke. “We can stay here. We can get married and build our lives here.”
“Good man,” Baldev said. “It’s your life. You can do what you like. You don’t need your family’s approval.”
“But I do need them. I want their blessing.” Mahesh sipped his tea, which must have been cold by now. “And so does Yaalini. We both do. I was waiting until I was sure, and now I am. I’m going to tell my parents and ask for their approval to get married.”
“And if they don’t give it?” Anil asked.
Mahesh dropped his teaspoon into his empty mug with a clang. “I don’t know. I don’t want to spend my life with anybody else. Every time I see one of those envelopes from my mother, I feel sick to my stomach. But I don’t want to disappoint my parents, or be an outcast from my family. I can’t imagine living that way either.” He carried his mug over to the sink.
A heaviness descended from Anil’s chest to his stomach. They all played by the implicit rule that they could do as they pleased over here in the United States, as long as their parents didn’t know. Anil had avoided telling his family about Amber. Even Baldev, whose parents had been in America for years, had not yet told his family about Trinity. As long as they didn’t know, no harm was done. But what if, like Mahesh, you fell in love with the wrong girl, a girl to whom your parents objected, a girl you still could not forget?
ANIL SAT with Charlie next to the coffee cart, a permanent fixture in the hospital lobby. “I’m proud of you, mate,” Charlie said. “Must have taken a lot, knowing how you feel about the guy, but sounds like you’ve thought it through and you’re doing the right thing.”
Anil forced a smile, unsettled by the implication of nobility in his actions. He hadn’t told Charlie about Trey’s offer to help him find a research sponsor in the Cardiology Department, only edged up to it a few times in his mind.
“Like I said.” Charlie patted him on the back. “The Great Decider.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “He really said a lot of residents use speed?”
“Yeah. Who knows?” Anil shrugged. “The research says it can be taken safely in low doses on occasion. I even read a study on college athletes whose performance improved on amphetamines. Maybe Trey’s right, and we’re the odd ones out.”
Charlie shook his head and held up his coffee cup. “I’ll stick with this stuff, thank you. Americans are so tightly wound, the way they kill themselves to get ahead. It’s no way to live, I tell you. In Sydney, my mate Jeremy, he’s on staff at the public hospital—plum job, nice income. He and his wife have a great house in Balmain. Nothing like these ridiculous mansions you see in Dallas, but plenty of space, three bedrooms, backyard. Jeremy drives a new Saab, he’s got a nice life, y’know?”
Anil nodded, removing the lid of his cup to pluck out the soggy tea bag. He was due for rounds in fifteen minutes.
“But here’s the difference,” Charlie continued. “Jeremy goes surfing every morning before work, he has dinner with his wife most nights, and they travel all the time because he’s on call only every other weekend. He works to live,
y’know? Here, everyone lives to work. It’s backwards, if you ask me.”
“You have a point,” Anil concurred, though he tended toward the American side of Charlie’s lifestyle spectrum. The intensity of cardiology was part of why he found it such an attractive specialty.
“I’m thinking of going back in July when we’re done,” Charlie said.
“What?” Anil said. “Where?”
“Sydney,” Charlie said. “Jeremy said his hospital’s hiring a few more docs, he can put in a good word for me. Apparently, they’re looking for doctors with research experience. I might be able to get into their Infectious Disease Department.” He slapped Anil’s shoulder. “Come on, mate. I’m thirty-six. I need to find a nice Aussie girl and settle down.” Charlie beamed his magnetic smile, but Anil was immune to it. “My folks are getting older, I want to be near them while I can.”