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
bastard had fled forever with Ramesh? In a country of a billion
people, how would he ever find Ramesh again?
And all of a sudden, he knew,
knew
that that was exactly what
Prakash had planned. He felt physically ill, unable to stand up, as
weak as he’d felt while recovering from the pneumonia. “Frank,
what is it?” he heard Ellie say, and he saw that the two women had
noticed.
“He’s gone,” he blurted out, his eyes filling with tears. “He’s
taken the boy and run. Forever.”
He didn’t hear Edna cry out or see her hand flying to her open
mouth. He didn’t see the disbelieving look on Ellie’s face. “Whoa,
whoa,” Ellie said. “Let’s not get carried away here. Just because
Prakash has decided to take his son on a trip . . .”
He felt as if he was looking down on Ellie from some great
height, felt as if he was really
seeing
her for the first time. What he’d
Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 2 9 9
always thought of as kindness and compassion, he now saw for what
it really was—silliness. A dangerous naïveté.
“Has he ever taken the boy on a—trip?” he asked Edna, not
bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
“No, sir. Never. Prakash has hardly left Girbaug except one-two
times.”
“And how has he been since—since the day, y’know, we exchanged words?”
“He been acting very strangely, sir. One minute he all quiet and
serious and then he’s smiling at me. Like he knowing something I’m
not knowing.”
Frank turned to Ellie triumphantly. “There. You heard that.”
“Well, so damn what? Prakash always acts a little strange.”
He was suddenly tired of both women and their hazardous stupidity. Of their inability to look clear-eyed into the unyielding core of the
universe. Of their failure to recognize malice even when it lived up
close to them. Ellie was a psychologist, had been trained to look inside
people’s heads. And here she was, deceived by an illiterate cook.
He read the letter again. And suddenly realized that it was meant
for him. Prakash had known Edna would bring the note to him. It
was designed to throw him, Frank, off their scent while Prakash
disappeared with the boy. He felt an urgent need to find Ramesh,
to reassure him, to rescue him from whatever fate Prakash had in
store for him.
“Well, nothing we can do tonight,” he lied. “In any case, I have
some phone calls to make.”
Edna looked unconvinced. “Sir, he’ll come back. He loves that
boy. And Ramesh will want to be coming back, no?”
He looked at her absently. “I’m sure,” he said vaguely. He turned
on his heels and walked toward the guest room. “I have to make
some work calls,” he said to Ellie. “I’d like to not be disturbed,
okay?”
3 0 0 Th r i t y U m r i g a r
Ellie looked skeptical. She opened her mouth to say something
and then shrugged. “Whatever.”
He shut the door behind him and sat on the edge of the sleeper
sofa, cradling his head in his hands. The thought of Ramesh not
being across the courtyard from him tonight, the image of the boy
sleeping in some strange bed—or worse, in a field or under a tree—
filled him with despair. The fucking bastard. Fucking coward.
Prakash couldn’t take him on directly and so was using the child to
get back at him. What if he took him to a big city like Bombay or
Calcutta and disappeared? They’d never hear from Ramesh again.
The boy would disappear like a small stone thrown into the ocean.
He jumped up from the sofa. He had already wasted precious
hours. If he was to find Ramesh, the time for action was now. Prakash
already had a head start of several hours. He paced the room for a
minute, trying to think clearly, to keep his panic on a leash. There
was only one man who could help him. Only one man whose dislike
for Prakash matched his. Only one man with the self-confidence
and wherewithal to know what to do. He sat at the antique desk and
dialed Gulab’s number.
“Tell me,” Gulab answered.
“It’s Frank Benton,” he said. “There’s—there’s a situation that I
need help with.”
“Yes, sir?” Frank could hear the animal alertness in Gulab’s
voice.
“It’s that fool Prakash,” he said. “He’s taken his son and disappeared. I need your help finding them.”
“Disappeared where, sir?”
Frank ground his teeth. “I don’t know. He just left a note saying
he was taking his son on a trip for a few days.”
“Then we should wait. They will return in two-three days. The
idiot probably doesn’t have money for more than that.”
Why was Gulab being as obtuse as the rest of them? “Look,”
Frank said. “The note is a ruse. The man has kidnapped his son,
Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 3 0 1
don’t you get it? We’ll never see them again if we don’t move on
this.”
There was a second’s silence, and when Gulab spoke again,
something had shifted in his tone. “I see. Well, in that case, Frank
sahib, I should contact the police chief. Try and find out where that
goonda
has smuggled his son.”
“Okay. But Gulab, there should be no violence. I—I just want to
find the boy, that’s all.”
“Understood. I will contact you in the morning, sir.”
“But if there’s any news tonight, I want you to call. Don’t worry
about the time.” Frank made a mental note to sleep in the guest bedroom tonight.
“Yes, boss.”
But sleep was not his country tonight. Frank lay in bed, trying
to fight the images preying on his mind—Ramesh sleeping in some
unsavory, unsafe place, Prakash getting drunk and hitting the boy,
Ramesh scared and inconsolable in a big, alien city. Maybe it would
be better if Prakash took the boy to Bombay, Frank thought. At
least Ramesh would know something about the city. But when he
thought of what flea-infested hotel Prakash would be able to afford,
he almost cried out in rage. He wondered whether Ramesh at least
had his sneakers on, repelled at the thought of the boy wandering
through the dirty city in his plastic slippers.
He got up late the next morning, having decided before finally
falling asleep that he would take the day off from work. For one
blissful moment his mind was blank, but then he remembered and
the bleakness fell upon him, as if he had pulled a blanket over his
head. He got out of bed and, ignoring the pressure on his bladder,
dialed Gulab’s number.
“No news, yet, sir.” He could hear the apology in Gulab’s voice.
“But not to worry. Police will start their investigations full blast
today.”
“Okay,” he said. “But remember, no violence. Just find me the
3 0 2 Th r i t y U m r i g a r
boy. Oh, and one other thing. I’m working from home today. So call
me on my cell if there’s any news.”
“Very good, sir.”
He peed and then opened the bedroom door and walked into the
living room. He could hear Ellie in the kitchen. “Hi,” she called
out. “I didn’t know whether to wake you. How come you’re not at
work?”
“Playing hooky,” he mumbled.
Ellie walked into the living room with a large mug of coffee. As
her eyes fell on him, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open in
shock. Some of the coffee splashed onto the tiled floor. She barely
noticed it.
“What’s wrong?” he said, involuntarily looking over his shoulder.
She moved her mouth, but no words emerged.
“Ellie. What’s the matter?”
“Oh, God. Frank. What happened to you?”
He looked at her inquiringly. “What’re you talking about?”
“Your hair. Oh, God.” She set the coffee mug down and came up
to him. Taking his hand, she led him to the mirror in the bedroom.
He let out a cry when he saw his grandfather looking back at him.
But, no, that wasn’t it, exactly. What he really saw in the mirror was
his own body and face, the body and face of a thirty-four-year-old.
But the blond hair had turned gray. Overnight. It was like seeing
his present and future selves at the same time, as if the mirror was a
reflecting glass as well as a crystal ball. He felt as if he was a figure
in a fairy tale, an apparition, felt that if he didn’t dig his feet into the
floor, he would float away, disappear.
Frank ran his hand through his hair and turned to Ellie with disbelieving eyes.
“What? How is this possible?”
“It happens. When people are under great stress. I’ve seen it
Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 3 0 3
in my practice.” Ellie’s eyes were moist. “Frank. What’s going on
with you? How is it that you’re suffering so much and I am not part
of it?”
He shook his head, not knowing what to say. He had the strange
sensation of being aware of aging, as if he could suddenly feel every
cell in his body becoming sluggish, turning as gray as his hair.
He let Ellie lead him to the couch, and she sat holding his hand.
“Babe. Sometimes the hair reverts back. But you gotta let go of this
stress. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on with you. Let me help
you through this.”
He looked at her face, so eager, so innocent, so beautiful, so
young
. What could he say to this face? This face had seen the ugly
reality of the world but had not turned ugly. Had known the same
searing loss and grief that he had but had not turned distrusting and
fearful. Ellie had somehow risen above the tragedy that had befallen
them, had reclaimed her place in the world. Whereas he, he had
handed over the keys to his salvation to a nine-year-old boy. A boy
who was now missing.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I—I’m just worried about
Ramesh.”
“Don’t be, honey. He’s with his father. And no matter what
Prakash is, he loves his kid. They’ve just gone on a vacation, hon.
Like we used to take Benny.”
He didn’t bother to keep the look of outrage from his face. How
dare she desecrate the memory of their vacations with Benny by
comparing them to Prakash’s sneaky abduction of his son?
“What? What’d I say?”
“Did I ever take Benny on a vacation by myself?” His voice
shook with anger. “Without checking with you? Informing you
after the fact with a note?”
Ellie sighed. “Frank, I’m just trying to help—”
“Then leave me alone. This is not helping.”
3 0 4 Th r i t y U m r i g a r
He ignored the hurt look in her eyes as he got up and walked out
of the house. He knocked on Edna’s door. “Any word from them?”
he asked as soon as she answered.
“Nothing, sir,” she said. “But maybe—”
He nodded, turned around and walked back into the house.
He spent the next four days at home. His days took on a pattern of avoiding Ellie, talking to Gulab several times, grilling Edna
about any clues she may have as to where Prakash may have disappeared, falling into bed at night and sleeping fitfully. Ramesh’s face
kept haunting him. He imagined the boy in all kinds of dire situations, a beseeching look on his face, calling out to Frank for help.
He would wake up in the middle of the night, his heart thudding,
drenched in sweat.
His cell phone rang. It was Gulab calling. “Yes?” he said eagerly.
“Just got a call from the police, sir. Turns out Prakash bought a
train ticket for Aderbad. The fellow who sold it to him was on leave.
Returned to work today, only.”
“What the hell is Aderbad?”
“A small town, sir. Nothing much there.”
“Why the heck would he go there?”
“God knows, sir.”
“Well, tell the police chief to send some of his men there.”
There was a slight pause. “Out of their jurisdiction, sir.”
Frank barked out an expletive. “They’re investigating a kidnapping case. Nothing should be out of their jurisdiction.”
Again, that pause. “They’re saying a father taking his son is not
kidnapping, sir.”
Was Gulab mocking him? Frank gave his lower lip a savage pull.
“Listen, Gulab. Tell the chief to send two of his men. I’ll pay all
expenses—plus
baksheesh
.”
“That will work, sir. I’ll phone him back right now only.”
So why the fuck didn’t Gulab come right out and tell him to pay
Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 3 0 5
those bastards off? Frank wondered as he hung up. What the hell
was he being so delicate about? As if he, Frank, didn’t know that the
whole rotten country was a cesspool of corruption.
His house phone rang, but he ignored it. Ellie could get it. It was
probably for her, anyway. He went to where Edna was sweeping the
courtyard.
“What’s in Aderbad?” he asked.
The woman started at him blankly. “Sir?”
“The town of Aderbad. Who does Prakash know there?”
“I never even heard of it, sir. Why you asking?”
“Because he bought a train ticket for there.”
“Maybe one of his friends from the liquor shop is from there,”
she offered. But he was already turning away in disgust. Stupid, ignorant woman, he thought. Knows nothing about her husband.
Ellie gestured to him as he walked back into the house. “It’s good
to hear from you, Pete,” she was saying. “And give our love to Janet
and the kids, would you? Well, here’s Frank.”
The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Pete. But he had no