Read The Weight of Heaven Online
Authors: Thrity Umrigar
Tags: #Americans - India, #Murder, #Psychological Fiction, #Married People, #India, #Family Life, #Crime, #Psychological, #Family & Relationships, #General, #Americans, #Bereavement, #Death; Grief; Bereavement, #Adoption, #Fiction
with that?”
Ramesh smacked his lips. “The pickle makes the sandwich good.
Otherwise, it’s too boring.”
“Guess it’s no different than mustard on a hot dog,” Frank said
to Ellie. He let out a sudden groan. “God. What would I give for a
nice, juicy hot dog right now?”
“You eat dog?” Ramesh looked so outraged that Ellie burst out
laughing.
“It’s not a dog. It’s just called that. It’s actually a—” Her mind
went blank. What exactly was a hot dog? Beef or pork? “It’s just
meat,” she added lamely.
“And boy, let me tell you. On a hot summer’s day like this, nothing tastes better.” Frank was still waxing nostalgic.
Ramesh chewed with his mouth open. “Let’s cook it for Christmas this year,” he said. “I’ll tell my dada to make it.”
“No, no, no. You don’t have it for Christmas. It’s summer food.”
Frank closed his eyes. “It’s what you have on the Fourth of July. A
nice, cold beer, a fat, juicy burger, and a hot dog.”
“Stop,” Ellie smiled. “You’re making me homesick.”
“The Fourth of July is American independence day,” Ramesh
declared. “I learned at school.”
Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 1 0 9
“Right-o,” Frank said.
“When is Indian independence day?” Ramesh asked. “You
know?”
Ellie and Frank looked at each other, startled. Did they know?
They remembered being in Bombay last year because it was a bank
holiday and the factory was closed. “I know it’s in August,” Ellie
stammered, little embarrassed. “Is it August seventeenth?”
“August fifteenth,” Ramesh yelled. He glared at them. “I know
America’s independence day, but you don’t know India’s,” he said.
“Okay, buckaroo. You’ve made your point,” Frank said. “Now
let up.”
Ramesh’s ears perked up. “Bukaroo? Like a kangaroo?” He
bent his hands at the wrist and held them toward his chest. “Want
to see me hop, hop, hop?” Before they could reply, he was struck
by another thought. “
Ae
. Let’s cook hot dogs for your independence
day. I’m sure Dada knows how to make them.”
Frank shuddered visibly, and Ellie knew that the thought of
Prakash making hot dogs was sacrilegious to him. But to Ramesh,
he merely said, “Afraid not, bud. We’re going to be in Bombay for
the Fourth of July.”
Ellie looked at him inquiringly and then remembered. The
American consulate was throwing a bash for American expatriates
in and around Bombay. Knowing of her reluctance to attend such
gatherings, Frank had bribed her with a boat trip to see the Elephanta Caves if she agreed to go. She’d said yes mostly because she
knew he wanted her to.
“Bombay?” Ramesh screamed. “You’re going to Bombay? Can
I come?”
Ellie watched as Frank’s face went through several contortions
at those last words. First, he looked startled, as if the thought had
not occurred to him. Then, the prospect of Ramesh’s company
made it light up. Immediately, though, the light vanished, dulled
by the reminder that Ellie would probably not look too kindly at
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this intrusion. This realization was followed by a sharp, stabbing
resentment at having to sacrifice his pleasure out of a sense of duty
toward his wife. Finally, he threw a blanket of blankness over it all
and turned to face Ramesh. “I wish you could, buddy,” he said. “But
not this time.”
But Ellie had seen the wistfulness on Frank’s face. And beneath
his cursory denial of Ramesh’s request, she heard the anguished
regret at refusing not only the boy but also his own heart’s desire.
She couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason for that refusal.
That much she loved him. That much she owed him—the right to
occasional happiness that only a bright Indian boy, who belonged
to other people, seemed to bring him. Also, she felt an immense
sadness as she watched the suddenly downcast Ramesh, saw his
bent, disappointed head. She remembered all the places Benny had
seen by age seven—Disneyland, New York City, Florence, Captiva Island, Boulder, Cape Cod—and compared that to the fact that
Ramesh had never left his hometown, had never seen the giant metropolis that lay less than a few hours away. And who knew what
seeing Bombay might do for the boy, what lurking dreams it might
arouse, what horizons it might expand? Ellie remembered how
going to Barcelona when she was eleven had affected her. “You
all go home,” she’d said to her parents when it was time to leave.
“I’m gonna stay here.” They had laughed, and of course she’d gone
to Shaker Heights but some part of her—the ambitious, cosmopolitan, worldly part—had been shaped forever by that trip. And she
was the daughter of a history professor, had grown up in a home
with maps and atlases and books, no stranger to the glories and
splendor of the wider world. How now could she deprive Ramesh of
his one chance to step outside the confines of his life? What she and
Frank could provide for Ramesh without the slightest sacrifice, with
a mere flick of their wrist, would take Prakash and Edna a lifetime
of scrimping and saving and hardship. A trip to Bombay was the
least they could do.
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“Why can’t he go with us?” she asked.
Frank’s head jerked up, and there was a light in his eyes that Ellie
had not seen in two years. “I . . . I just assumed . . . I guess . . . no
real reason why he can’t . . .”
“I mean, do you think the embassy people might object?” she
said, enjoying this power to make Frank happy, prolonging it.
“Hell, no. I mean, the invitation said children were welcome.
It’s just a picnic, anyway, a casual affair.” Frank’s left eye twitched,
and Ellie watched in fascination. His eye generally twitched only
in times of stress. How badly he wants this! she thought in wonder.
And how hard he tries to hide this need from me! For the first time,
Ellie felt grateful for Ramesh’s presence in their lives. Perhaps this
boy could be the rope that pulled her drowning husband out of his
grief. Perhaps he could be the silken thread that reconnected her to
Frank.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the whoops of joy emanating
from the boy sitting next to her. “Yessssssssssssssss, Ellie,” Ramesh
yelled. “Thank you, thank you. Always I’ve wanted to see Mumbai.
I am wanting to meet Shahrukh Khan.”
“Who’s Shahrukh Khan?” Ellie said and heard Ramesh’s gasp.
“You don’t know Shahrukh Khan? He’s the bestest actor. My
own favorite.” Ramesh leapt up from the blanket, and striking his
best macho pose, began to recite dialogue from Khan’s latest film.
They listened to the boy for a few minutes, and then Frank turned
toward Ellie. “Thank you,” he said simply.
She squeezed his hand. “It’s no big deal. Besides, it will be fun to
have him around.”
“I wonder if he’ll like the city? Or be afraid of it?” Frank smiled.
“Do you remember when we took Ben to New York? How he
wanted to go into the peep shows because he thought there would
be chickens there?”
She smiled back. “Sure. Remember the visit to Saint Patrick’s?”
They had wandered into the magnificent cathedral on Saturday
1 1 2 Th r i t y U m r i g a r
afternoon. Despite their Catholic childhoods, neither Frank nor
Ellie was particularly devout, and as they walked down the aisle
and took in the stained glass windows, the high ceilings, and the
ornate altar, they scarcely noticed the small clusters of people who
sat in the pews with their heads bowed and eyes closed. Ellie lit a
candle on behalf of her mother and then turned to her five-year-old
son and asked if he was ready to leave. “But we haven’t prayed yet,”
Benny replied. And before they could react, he raced ahead and sat
in a pew next to a disheveled-looking man, who was wearing a tattered coat and staring into space. His eyes tightly closed, Benny sat
beside the man, who reeked of alcohol and urine, for close to ten
minutes. Occasionally, his lips moved. Finally, the boy opened his
eyes, said a loud, “Bye,” to his ragged companion, and joined his
parents. “Okay, I’m done talking to God now,” he said.
For the rest of that day, Ellie had looked at her son with something approaching awe, realizing that the whiny boy who only
wanted fried rice for dinner that night and wanted his dad to carry
him back to the hotel was also a mysterious, spiritual being whose
individuality was already beginning to assert itself.
She had thought about that strange incident many times, especially since Benny’s death. “You remember?” she now asked
Frank.
He nodded. “Of course.” He paused, looking out to where the
sea spread before them like a large banquet table. “He was quite a
little man, our Benny.”
They both looked away, eyes stinging with tears, afraid to speak
until the moment passed and they could control their voices again.
Ellie covered Frank’s hands with hers. “I bet you Ramesh will love
Bombay,” she said at last. “How could he not? It’s fast, busy, exhilarating—just like him.”
Frank sighed. “It’s still almost a month away. Wish it was sooner.
I could really use a long weekend off.”
Ellie gritted her teeth and swore to herself. Edna was standing
before her and wailing, beating her forehead and cursing her bad
luck for marrying a stupid wreck of a husband. Despite the fact that
the woman’s anguish seemed genuine enough, Ellie couldn’t dismiss
the feeling that some of the high drama was for her benefit, that
Edna was trying to cover up her embarrassment at her husband’s
obstinacy with her wailings and mutterings.
Prakash was being an ass, no question about that. It was three
days before they were to leave for Bombay, and the man had suddenly changed his mind about letting Ramesh accompany them.
Edna had crept up to Ellie about a half hour ago with the news.
“What to do, madam? The fool is becoming more-more stubborn
in his old age. God only knows what got into his head last night, but
he saying he won’t let Ramesh go.”
“Have you told Ramesh?”
Edna wailed even louder. “No, madam. If that mule wants to
break his son’s heart, let him tell him. That boy has been excited as
a firecracker over this for weeks.”
“I see.” Ellie didn’t know which would be harder, Frank’s despondency or his rage when she told him the news. She suddenly felt
1 1 4 Th r i t y U m r i g a r
fed up with the whole situation, this weird dance in which she was
caught between the egos and insecurities of two warring men. And
Edna was getting on her nerves. Such drama, so early in the morning. Now Edna was evoking the memory of her mother, wishing she
had listened to her admonishments about marrying a non-Christian.
“These Hindus, madam,” she sniffed. “Not the same as us. Sooner
or later, they show their true nature. My mama was correct. This
man is a total loss.”
Despite herself, Ellie laughed. “Edna, please,” she said. “This is
a simple case of a father not wanting his son to go with us because
he’s—well, who knows why? Let’s not turn this into a religious
war.”
Edna looked injured and continued to mutter darkly about
Prakash’s ways. But at least the wailing had stopped. In that silence,
Ellie decided to act. “Is Prakash home?” she asked Edna.
“Of course, madam.”
“I want to speak to him,” she said. “Can we go to your house?”
She caught Edna’s startled look. She had never before crossed the
courtyard and entered Edna’s house. The realization that she had no
idea what her servant’s home looked like, despite the fact that they
shared an address, made Ellie blush. “Let’s go,” she said gruffly.
The one-room shack had two cots on either end. A third mattress
lay on the floor beside one of the cots. A half-partition made way for
a little kitchen, and Ellie surmised that the bathroom was behind a
yellow door at the far end of the room. Two decrepit-looking chairs
were propped against a wall, and a small television set rested on one
of them. Even though she knew that Edna’s living quarters were
much better than those of many of the villagers, Ellie was shocked at
how spartan a life her housekeepers lived. No wonder poor Ramesh
was always looking for an opportunity to spend time in their home.
She wondered what the boy thought of their house. She also felt a
twinge of apprehension at taking Ramesh to the Taj, where they
Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 1 1 5
would be staying during their time in Bombay. The five-star hotel
would be something beyond what the boy’s imagination could conjure up. She half wondered if insisting on the boy going with them
was a mistake, but then she saw Prakash sitting on his haunches in
the kitchen area, and her temper spiked.
Prakash stayed on his haunches, but Ellie caught the murderous
look that he flung at his wife at this intrusion. She knew Edna would
pay for this barging-in, but right now she couldn’t think of that.
She just wanted the matter resolved before Frank found out about
it. “Prakash,” she said sharply. “Edna told me you were against
Ramesh going with us. I was so shocked, I knew there had to be a