Part 9 (2/2)

”Okay,” he agreed. Anything to see her again.

Rasika turned away from Abhay and was walking back to her table when Kanchan Uncle appeared next to her. Her heart was pounding as a result of what Abhay had said. She forced herself to smile at Kanchan Uncle as they walked.

”I know what you were doing at the hotel with Abhay,” he said quietly.

She stopped in her tracks. What was he implying?

”I saw you come out of the elevator with him, and with your suitcase,” he continued. ”Your hair was wet. I know what you were doing.”

She stared.

”I want to make a suggestion.” He was smiling slightly, balancing his plate piled high with a stack of pooris, mounds of rice and curries, and a large papadum crowning the whole thing. He kept his distance from her, as though they were just having a polite conversation. Other guests walked around them on their way to and from the buffet table.

”I want you to meet me at the hotel tomorrow,” he said. ”My family will be out visiting some friends. I will tell them I am not feeling well. You come and visit me.”

Rasika was shocked. She'd never thought an Indian uncle was capable of making any kind of proposition like this. She furrowed her brow and glanced around her.

”I am going away on Tuesday,” he said. ”No one will know. I will be completely silent.”

She laughed, as though she were finally getting the joke. ”Very funny.” She started walking away. He followed.

”I will tell Mita what I saw,” he said, catching up to her. ”And you know she cannot resist spreading good gossip.”

”Go ahead and tell,” Rasika said. ”As if I care.” She reached their empty table, settled into her seat, and spread her napkin over her lap.

In a moment everyone else returned to the table, and Kanchan Uncle paid no further attention to her. He sat on the other side of the table, showing his camera to her father. It was a big, black thing with a cylindrical protruding lens. It looked heavy. Appa's face seemed its usual mask of worry, with two dents above his eyebrows and his squinting blinks as he took the camera into his own hands and examined it. ”We should get a digital camera like this one,” Appa shouted across the table to Amma. ”Single lens reflex. You can change lenses, so you can take a panorama, or a close-up from far away.” He spoke half in English and half in Tamil. He held the camera up to his eye and aimed it at Rasika.

”This camera will produce a much higher quality image than the one you have.” Kanchan waved his hand at the flat little silver box next to Rasika's father's plate. ”I should have taken a picture with this when I saw Rasika at the hotel the other day.” Kanchan winked at her.

Rasika had the urge to duck under the table. What would Appa do if he were to find out the truth about her? Rasika felt sick thinking about her father's distress and her mother's disappointment.

”Best Buy is having a sale,” Amma said. ”You go and look there.”

”Kanchan says we will get the best price online. He is giving me Web site.”

Kanchan scribbled something on a paper napkin. ”And this comes with optical zoom.”

”Kanchan loves to shop online,” Mita Auntie shouted. ”These days he will never enter any stores.”

Rasika wondered if Abhay was right-that the United States was merely a place for her family to buy stuff. She looked around the windowless room. She recalled being in a very similar room a few years ago, when they went to North Carolina to visit Ahalya Auntie and their family. They had tagged along to someone's wedding reception, and although it had been in a different part of the country, with different people, it was much the same: a bland room with decorations brought from India, or made to look like something people remembered from India. The people in this room were perched here as if they had just landed temporarily. Everyone knew that their real home was India.

After lunch a DJ played cheesy Bollywood songs, American oldies, and top-forty hits, and the younger generation-those raised in the United States-danced lazily. The older women congregated at one another's tables. Everyone else at Rasika's table had wandered off, but Rasika thought she'd have better luck avoiding everyone if she just stayed put.

Subhash appeared at Rasika's side. ”May I sit here?” he asked softly, putting a hand on the back of the chair next to hers. He wore a large white jubba over dress pants. There was a wet spot next to the b.u.t.tons of his s.h.i.+rt, as though he'd spilled something on himself and then wiped it off with a wet napkin.

She pushed away her untouched kulfi. She'd never liked that extra-rich Indian ice cream. ”Sure.” It would be better to be seen talking to Subhash than to Abhay.

He sat awkwardly on the edge of his chair, leaning his arms on the table and drumming his fingers lightly. Finally he said, without looking at her, ”You look really beautiful today.” Although he had a fairly heavy Indian accent, he tried hard not to roll his r's.

”Thank you.” She looked past him to the dance floor, and at the other tables. She didn't see Abhay anywhere.

”I am sorry to hear that things did not work out with Viraj,” he continued. Rasika noticed sweat s.h.i.+ning on his broad face. He had always been a serious, somewhat nervous boy. ”Rasika, since we are cousins, I hope I can speak freely.”

She looked at him in alarm. What was he going to bring up? They'd never ”spoken freely” before in all the years she'd known him. In fact, they had hardly spoken at all. Mostly, when the families ate dinner together, Subhash ended up in front of the TV, clicking through channels, watching sports and news and sitcoms without showing any sign of emotional involvement with any of it.

Now he sat on the edge of his chair and slapped the stubby forefinger of his right hand onto the palm of his left hand. ”Many men might be timid in a situation like this,” he said. ”They may wait for their parents to arrange things. My parents are reluctant to speak to your father, because of everything your father has done for us. They don't want to ask for more.”

He was speaking to her knee. The forefinger moved up and down forcefully with each point. Rasika realized it looked like a machine-a typewriter spelling out the words, as though he had programmed himself to say what he was typing.

”Subhash. Let's not talk about this right-”

”But I have a different view,” he continued, as though he hadn't even heard her. ”In my business, I have learned the power of making a request.”

His hands were still poised in the air. She leaned back, resigning herself to hearing him out.

”I am confident that I can offer you a very good life.” The finger started pumping away again. ”I know you must marry soon. I am also aware that people have been talking about you. This is very bad for a woman's reputation. I have heard from Viraj what happened. I have seen myself that you were with Abhay in Kent.”

Rasika flinched inwardly every time his finger slammed down. She kept her face immobile, however.

”I cannot think you mean anything by it,” he continued. ”You were raised in this country, so you are not so familiar with Indian modesty. You do not realize that an unmarried girl should not be seen wandering about with men. Therefore, I am willing and able to offer you a good, safe life. Since I am just starting out at this new location, I can offer you a partners.h.i.+p. As my wife, you will be a full partner. You were raised in this country. You have an American accent. You are good with people. I think you will attract a wide range of customers.” One last time, he dropped the rod of his forefinger into the claws of the other hand. Then he lowered his hands to his lap and looked down at them.

”I already have a job,” she reminded him.

The hands were raised again. ”You will be a full partner in the business,” he repeated, talking to the table. ”You will be an owner. This is better for you than working at a job where you can be let go at any moment.”

She sat back to observe him. Was he really in love with her and didn't know how to express it? Or did he just think she'd be good for business?

”You see, I may not be able to offer this later,” he said. ”If too many rumors start about you, I will not be able to make this same proposal. But if you come in with me now, on the ground floor, and help me to build the business, then of course I would-”

”Subhash.” She put both her hands over his hands, to stop his anxious movements.

He made eye contact, finally. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows were slightly raised. He looked scared-terrified, even. She realized this was more for him than a business proposition. Perhaps he was even in love with her. She didn't want to hurt his feelings.

She took her hands away from his. ”I think we should let the elders deal with this,” she suggested gently. ”That's the Indian way, after all.”

He bundled his hands together into one large fist between his knees. ”I think my mother spoke with your mother. But my father is reluctant, as I said.”

”My mother mentioned your interest, but my father is hesitant. He thinks we're too closely related. Maybe we should heed their wisdom.”

Subhash sighed heavily. His broad shoulders seemed to deflate as he hunched over.

Rasika stood up. ”Your offer is very sweet. But I don't think it's the right thing for me.”

He looked up at her with his scared eyes. ”Rasika, I do like you. I think you are very pretty. We are adults. We don't have to do just what our parents tell us.”

”I'm not the right wife for you, Subhash,” she said.

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