possibly the first time since I was a child, I wasn’t merely tolerating this time of year. With Atish, Sima, Sagnik, and Wesley nearby, as well as my brother’s family, I felt a sense of warmth and I was looking forward to Christmas morning. I didn’t feel adopted. I felt like I was nine again in Toronto. I felt at home.
Seventeen
“I couldn’t even think. I was so lost.”
On New Year’s Eve, Wesley and I went to the studio apartment of my friend Matt on the Upper East Side for a quiet evening. Matt and I grew up together in Howell and had celebrated every New Year’s together going back to college. Some of them were big bashes at our respective schools. One was a trip to Puerto Rico. But now, both being thirty, we wanted something more relaxing. Although on this particular evening, we were so boring that we swung the pendulum too far. A coma would have been less relaxing.
Matt has long been one of my closest friends. Ever since we met in high school, we’ve spent multiple nights on the phone every week, just shooting the shit about anything. Movies. Television. Sports. Sometimes our phone conversations are just silent, punctuated only by grunts as we watch a basketball game. True friendship. He’s always been steadfast and reliable. Yet, strangely enough, I’ve never spoken much to him about my family life. The lack of talk has always been my source of comfort.
Sitting on Matt’s couch as we watched television, my phone buzzed right before midnight. It was a text from my mother. She had really mastered this.
“Happy new year. And for the rest of the year.good night.”
Bishakha and I had been texting more often, and about mundane things. The day before, she wrote, “Oh I am watching Obama in Oprah very nice.”
Okay, she still needed some work.
But it was another text Bishakha sent shortly after receiving the first that stood out to me more than anything. It was to Wesley. After exchanging similar pleasantries with her, my mother sent one that said: “I am going to have a good year. And a new life.”
Wesley and I traded looks. Her bottom lip curled. It was the first time I could remember Bishakha ever expressing any sort of optimism for the future. I think about that text often now when I’m not with her. Love and care are obviously crucial parts of a healthy family dynamic. So are trust, safety, communication. Those are the traits that first come to mind in picturing a comfortable home.
But optimism isn’t a trait we discuss much. We probably should in deciding what makes a family work. The ability for a group of people to look toward the future and say, “This is something for us to look forward to” is as crucial as having good things in the present. For the first time in such a long time, my mother was sitting at home, curled up in her bed, with cell phone in hand, and sharing New Year’s Eve with other people. We weren’t with her but we were with her. She had, by her own words, a “new life,” a light at the end of a dark tunnel, which happened to be coinciding with a new calendar. As the ball dropped in Times Square, my mother was turning a new page and aiming to write a new story for herself.
There was, however, one potential wrinkle. I would have to ask my mother about her previous husband at some point, but I was nervous that it might rock the boat. I had compiled all the pieces to the puzzle but hadn’t yet completed it—and I felt like I needed to. Our relationship was the best it had been in our lifetimes. I ran the risk of upsetting my mother by forcing her to bring up memories that she didn’t want to confront.
But, selfishly, I also knew that I knew about her previous marriage. I needed her to know that I knew, and I needed to tell her it was okay to talk about it. If she was ashamed about it, I needed to tell her she had no reason to be. Arrogantly, I felt entitled to know about it and how it affected the rest of her life. After all, it directly affected mine.
One Sunday morning in early February, Shyamal video chatted with me and Wesley using his phone. This wasn’t the first time we had tried this, by the way, since returning from India,