Fifteen Lanes - S.J. Laidlaw Page 0,69

anything before I go, Ma? I could brush your hair or massage your feet.”

“No, just send Aamaal up. I never see that child anymore.”

I nodded, then leaned over and gave her a quick hug. She brushed me away.

I picked up Shami on my way out and found Aamaal, where I knew she’d be, still playing with Lucky. That goat was a better childminder than I’d ever be.

“Go inside and change, Aamaal. You can put your uniform away and give Ma a hug.”

“Is Ma okay today?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t have told you to go to her otherwise. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

She ran off and I immediately regretted my harsh words. It was my jealousy rearing up. The sight of Aamaal would cheer Ma in a way that I never could. I sometimes wondered if Ma actually knew Aamaal’s father, maybe even loved him. I’d never known Ma to have a serious boyfriend the way many of the aunties did. She said a boyfriend was just one more man stealing your cash, which was true. Most aunties ended up supporting their boyfriends, even if the relationships didn’t start out that way.

One thing was certain. Ma never loved my father, black dung beetle that he must have been. Whatever Gajra said about the new India, my too-dark skin, several shades darker than Ma’s own, couldn’t help but disappoint her. It was no wonder she preferred Aamaal.

When Aamaal returned, we headed for the café where Parvati and I had agreed to meet Grace. Parvati was supposed to be waiting for us in an alley just one lane over from our house. She wasn’t at our meeting place, but I’d told her to go on ahead if Suresh was already on the hunt for her. I could only hope that was what she’d done.

The café we’d chosen was a long walk from Kamathipura. It was part of a large, modern chain, so a safe place for the foreigners to wait and the last place Suresh would think to look for Parvati. A single coffee there cost more than three times what a man would pay for our mothers. I wouldn’t be wasting any of Ma’s earnings on refreshments, so I bought Aamaal and Shami a couple of vada paav at a street stall on the way. The potato fritter in a bun wasn’t a favorite of either of my siblings but at only ten rupees it was a regular standby.

I was disappointed, thirty minutes later, when we finally walked through the door, sweaty and tired, to find Grace sitting by herself. No Parvati.

“You came alone?” I said, glad she’d left VJ Patel behind.

She was at a table with four chairs. Aamaal immediately plopped herself down in one and looked around with interest. This wasn’t the kind of place any of us was used to. I’d been carrying Shami on the long walk over, so I was happy to drop him in his own chair. Only when I’d sat as well did I notice other patrons eyeing us strangely. Most of them were in western dress. The few in salwar kameez wore the plain, tailored, high-fashion kind that I’d usually seen only on billboards, so unlike the boldly colored, ill-fitting, street-stall kind Aamaal and I wore.

“My mom doesn’t know I came alone,” said Grace. “I had to take a taxi because I told her VJ’s driver was bringing us.”

“He didn’t want to come?”

“I didn’t tell him.” She smiled conspiratorially, but there was something forced about her smile.

I remembered VJ hadn’t been paying attention when we’d made plans to meet. It had been at the end of the day, after we’d visited his father’s studio. VJ had been lost in his own thoughts. It was obvious there was something wrong between he and his father. He seemed to resent it when his father showed off his studio, but VJ was the one who took us there, so he must have been proud of his father in some way. He’d seemed particularly angry when his father flirted with the young film star. I didn’t understand why that upset him. His father showed far more restraint than I was used to seeing from men. Still, I knew what it felt like to be ashamed of a parent and proud of them at the same time.

“Where’s Parvati?” asked Grace.

I hesitated. She didn’t really know Parvati. I’d done most of the talking when we were all together. Parvati’s English was good enough for scrounging a few rupees off foreigners on the street