A House for Happy Mothers: A Novel (10 page)

“Maybe you need to work your way up again,” Priya said.

“I’m nearly forty, Priya; there isn’t any work your way up. It’s fucking over,” she said, and then put her hand on Priya’s. “Don’t give up your job. No matter what. Keep your career. You give it up, you’ll be fucked, like me.”

“Did you take the job at Sun?”

Aditi shook her head. “You know Tarun got promoted? Vice president of business development. His travel days have gone up; he’s gone now three days out of the week plus more weekends. I can’t have a full-time job with his schedule. I mean, someone has to pick up and drop off Dhruv at preschool. Goddamn it,” she said, choking up. “Even at fifty grand, I was ready to take that job. Why does he get to have a career and I don’t?”

“Get a nanny,” Priya said. “If he’s making so much money, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Aditi shook her head again. “Tarun doesn’t think that’s good for Dhruv.”

“Tell him to stay at home, then,” Priya said.

Aditi laughed. “I can’t. He makes so much more than I ever did or could. We have the life we have because of him. I drive a Lexus, Priya. I should be happy.”

“Is that what Tarun said?”

Aditi nodded and picked up a napkin from the patio table, wiping the tears off her cheeks.

“None of them gets it,” Aditi said, pointing her chin to the house. “They think I hit the jackpot. Tarun has a great job, and I have the luxury of sitting at home, turning into a fucking vegetable.”

“What are you girls talking about?” Tarun said as he walked in, a glass of scotch in his hand. “About your virile men?”

Madhu followed Tarun and came to stand beside Priya. He immediately put his arm around her.

“You know, you guys have been together as long as any of us have, and you’re so lovey-dovey still,” Tarun said. “The man can’t keep his hands off of you, Priya.
Kya magic hai?
”

“Maybe because they still love each other,” Aditi said.

“I still love you,
jaaneman
, my life,” Tarun said, and dramatically pulled Aditi into his arms. She flinched and pushed him away.

“You smell of whiskey,” she said.

“Well, that’s what happens when you drink single malt, baby,” Tarun said.

“I guess I’m driving, then,” Aditi muttered. “I’ll get Dhruv; it’s time to go home.”

“Yes, madam,” Tarun said, and saluted. “She’s a tyrant,” he said to Madhu and Priya. “We should hook up for dinner sometime.”

“Sure,” Priya said.

“Wow,” Madhu said as the unhappy couple left the patio. “Do you think we’ll ever end up like them?”

“No,” Priya said.
God, I hope not.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Time to go home?” Madhu said.

“Sure,” Priya said.

But they stayed for another drink while Simran’s housekeeper, a Mexican woman named Maria, cleaned up.

They sat on the patio, the light breeze soothing. This was the best thing about living in California, Priya thought: even in February they could sit outside in nothing but a light jacket. Priya cuddled against Madhu, feeling secure in her marriage. Nothing made you feel lucky in your relationship like seeing someone else’s crappy one.

“So, Priya, now that we have some quiet, tell us about this surrogate,” Farah said, and Priya stiffened, feeling the squeeze of Madhu’s restraining arm.

“Surrogate?” Simran asked. “What is this,
bhai
? No one tells us anything.”

“When Athar told me, I couldn’t believe it, but considering all your problems, this is a great solution,
nahi
?” Farah said. “So, this woman is in India? How much does it cost?”

Priya didn’t look at Madhu because she wasn’t sure she could stay calm if she saw his face.

Athar looked just as embarrassed as Madhu. “Farah, I’m sure this isn’t something they want to talk about.”

Farah waved a hand. “
Arrey
, having a baby is good news. So tell us, Priya, how does the process work?”

Priya took a deep breath. “Like Athar said, we don’t want to talk about this. It’s still early days.”

“So there’s a risk of losing the baby?” Latha asked.

“No,” Madhu said immediately. “We just don’t feel comfortable talking about it.”

“That’s the way to have a baby, though,” Farah said, stroking her big belly. “I mean, you don’t have to get fat or go through labor and delivery. Athar, we can have a cricket team if we can have the rest of the babies that way.”

Priya wanted to scream. How dare Farah make light of this? Priya could hardly sleep. She was so scared about her baby growing up thousands of miles away in a stranger’s belly. And this woman was making a joke about it?

Silence fell over the small crowd of people, and relief came in the form of Latha’s daughter Noma, who stepped onto the patio wailing. “JoJo hit me,” she said, rubbing her shoulder. Noma was seven and slight and couldn’t quite compete with the full-bodied JoJo.

Nikhil, their five-year-old son, followed, eating a bar of unidentified chocolate. “My belly hurts, Mama,” he said, and sat down on Latha’s lap.

“We should go,” Priya said then, and stood up.

They were in their car when Athar came running out. Madhu rolled down his side of the window, but Athar spoke to Priya.

“I’m so sorry, Priya. I know you wanted to keep this a secret . . .”

“It’s OK, Athar,” Priya said without looking at him, and turned the key in the ignition.

“
Yaar
, I’m really sorry,” Athar said to Madhu, who just nodded. “Call me, OK?”

Madhu waved to Athar and rolled up the window.

They drove home in silence. Priya was the designated driver, but whatever buzz Madhu had acquired had quickly disappeared.

“I’m so sorry,” Madhu said as soon as they were inside their house. “Priya, I’m really sorry.”

“You lied to me, Madhu, to my face,” she said. “How the hell am I supposed to trust you?”

“I should’ve told you that I had talked to him. I made a mistake, and you’re saying that you don’t trust me anymore?” Madhu asked. “I needed to talk to someone, and I did. You don’t have to insult me. I said I was sorry.”

“And that’s supposed to make it all OK?” Priya demanded.

“No, but you’re supposed to let things go once in a while. Life isn’t supposed to be so damned serious,” Madhu said.

“Serious? You told him and he told her and she told everyone. I asked you, I pleaded that we keep this quiet, but you just don’t have any common sense,” Priya said, and regretted it immediately. Calling him stupid wasn’t fair, she knew, but she didn’t feel like giving an inch or even half an inch.

“You know, we are just where Tarun and Aditi are. They’re just more honest than we are,” Madhu said once they were in their living room.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Madhu didn’t say anything and went into the bedroom.

Priya followed him, now ready for a good fight.

“I love you,” she said. “But you don’t really love me, do you? Otherwise—”

“So now I’m untrustworthy, without common sense, and I don’t love you. Anything else?” he demanded.

Priya took a deep breath.

“No, that’s it for now,” she said, and slammed the bathroom door shut as she went in.

He was sitting on the bed in his underwear when she came out brushed and scrubbed. She was still wearing the dress she had gone to the party in.

“Can we make up now?” Madhu asked.

Priya looked at him. “Are you offering monkey sex?”

Madhu smiled and then nodded. “I did promise that, and a promise is, after all, a promise.”

“Oh, please,” Priya said, and pushed him onto his back to straddle him.

“We’re nothing like Tarun and Aditi,” Madhu said, and pulled the zipper of her dress down.

“No,” Priya said, kissing him on the mouth. “I love you too much.”

“Just so we have no misunderstandings and we’re on the same page on this,” Madhu said, “can you tell me what your definition of monkey sex is?”

Transcript from message board www.surrogacyforyou.org

Trying1Time: I am so scared about having left the baby there. I feel so anxious. What am I supposed to do?

Prietysmommy: First thing, take a deep breath. This is very normal. I didn’t start sleeping until a week ago. We just got through the first trimester, and it has been rough. But my DH has been very supportive and that has helped a lot.

NobuNobi: I have to say having DH’s unstinting support (despite his horrible parents) has been so great. I don’t think I could get through this without him.

Mommy8774: My DH was also wonderful. I cried and cried and cried the first time when we came home. But he was a rock; he told me everything would be fine. My advice: Talk to your husband. You’ll feel much better.

MummiBest24: I don’t understand what the big worry is really. I mean someone is taking care of your child there; it isn’t like you left it on the street. I believe that when women use surrogates they feel the need to be extra hysterical because they don’t have the baby growing inside them.

Mommy8774: That is a horrible thing to say. We are genuinely upset about not being able to see our babies grow. Why are you even on this message board? This is a supportive board and if you can’t be supportive, please don’t participate.

LastHope77: MummiBest24, I’m sure you didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings, but to call women who use a surrogate hysterical is truly unfair.

MummiBest24: I have had two children through surrogates and I know exactly how it feels. I was worried but not crying and crying all the time. That’s just insane and this is obviously not the right message board for people with a brain and a strong disposition. You losers can all sit and cry. It’s best for you.

Prietysmommy: OMG, what a bitch! Can we block this person from using our message board?

Mommy8774: I’ll check with the moderator. BRB.

Trying1Time: One more question. What kind of presents can I send to the SM? Should I also send something for the father?

CantConceive1970: I sent big boxes with stuff. Clean underwear. It doesn’t have to be Victoria’s Secret, just good stuff from Target or Walmart. Toys for the children. Nothing too expensive, simple stuff. Things like that. I never sent anything for the husband, but it’s a good idea. It’ll mean he feels good about the whole thing, too—if he doesn’t already, that is.

NobuNobi: My in-laws think we shouldn’t send the SM anything. After all, we’re paying her already. But I think we should send something. But it’s just so hard with my husband saying no all the time.

UnoBaby: My friends said the same thing, but really, can we pay a woman enough for carrying our baby? I sent perfume, silly woman stuff that she can’t even dream of buying and yes, underwear, too.

Prietysmommy: My SM keeps asking for stuff. I worry that if we say no she might hurt the baby. Next time we want another SM; this one is just too mercenary. We send whatever she asks for but nothing extra.

CHAPTER SIX

Doctor Swati had a box waiting for Asha when she came for her regular biweekly checkup.

“Priya and Madhu have sent this for you. They have called every week since they left to check up on you,” Doctor Swati said. “They have asked if you wouldn’t mind talking to them once in a while. I can set it up so that they will call here after your next checkup.”

Asha licked her lips. She didn’t have a problem speaking with the parents, but she didn’t know what she would say to them.

“You don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to,” Doctor Swati said when she saw Asha’s reluctance.

“No, no, I’ll talk to them,” Asha said, and then paused. “But what will we talk about?”

“They might just want to say hello and ask you how you’re doing,” Doctor Swati said. “They won’t interrogate you. They’re just worried about their baby.”

Asha nodded. “I don’t have to talk to them now, do I?” She needed to prepare herself to speak to the parents. It would probably be the mother who would talk to her. She had seemed so worried when they had met.

“For now, just take this home with you and open it with your husband and children,” Doctor Swati suggested. “It’s gifts for all of you.”

“But they’re already giving us money,” Asha said. “Why should they send us gifts?”

“Let them,” Doctor Swati said. “It makes them feel like they’re taking care of their baby as they take care of you. And it’s also a way for them to say thank you.”

Asha felt uneasy taking the box home, but she was also curious to see what was inside. Something from America, obviously, and that was exciting.

The box wasn’t heavy, and in any case, Asha wasn’t pregnant enough to feel any pressure at carrying things, not yet.

Pratap was painting a house that Raman was doing electrical work for, and the children were in school, so only Mohini, Puttamma, and Kaveri were at home.

Kaveri was sitting at her sewing machine, her feet moving as her hands maneuvered the blouse she was working on. Both Kaveri and Asha continued to sew for the local women. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was a little extra.

There was a letter in the box. It was written in Telugu. Asha would read it later, after the box had been emptied and everyone had oohed and aahed over the gifts.

“Underwear?” Kaveri said, holding a packet with six panties. “They sent you underwear. And look, a watch! This must be for Pratap.”

Puttamma looked at the clothes sent for the children. “Oh, just touch this material, so soft, so nice. And this pretty frock for Mohini! She will look like a princess.”

They had also sent some toys. A few cars, a truck, a fake telephone that made sounds. Since they had sent nothing for Kaveri or her children, Asha divided the toys among Girish, Sirish, and her own children.

For Asha, they had sent a beautiful silk shawl. It was blue with a delicate design in silver and white. Asha draped it around her shoulder as she sat down to read the letter.

Dear Asha,

We hope that this letter finds you in the best of health. We are so grateful to you for carrying our baby and we hope that you are taking good care of yourself.

As promised, we have sent our taped voices by e-mail to Doctor Swati, and she will put them on the iPod we gave to you. I hope you can operate it without too much trouble.

We’re also sending some gifts for you and your family. We hope that you like them. If there is anything else you need, please let us know.

You are free to write to us (you can find our address on the back of the envelope) if you wish. We would very much like to be able to talk to you and have asked Doctor Swati if this will be possible. We know that you do not have a phone in your house, but if you wish we could get you a mobile telephone so that you can keep in touch with us as well as Happy Mothers if you need to.

Thank you and all our best wishes,

Priya and Madhu

Asha knew the father had written the letter, as she didn’t think the mother’s Telugu was this good, but the sentiments were definitely the mother’s, even though the letter was signed by both of them.

Were they trying to buy her good behavior by sending her presents? Or were they genuinely just saying thank you?

They had said that Asha could ask them for anything else she needed, and Asha thought about that as she stroked the soft shawl. She was already feeling too warm under it. She saw Kaveri eye it with envy and wondered if she should just give it to her. But it was such a beautiful shawl, almost like a silk sari, and Asha didn’t want to part with it; it was the nicest thing she had, certainly the nicest thing anyone had ever given her. If they sent something in the next box, she thought, she would give it to Kaveri.

“The parents of my baby sent a box now and then, too,” Kaveri said. “But nothing like this. It was more like vitamin tablets and a belt for my stomach and things like that. They never sent anything for the boys. Your parents are different. Good.”

There was envy, but Kaveri had no malice. She was grateful and happy for Asha’s good fortune.

“You can have the shawl if you want,” Asha said suddenly. She hadn’t intended to, but the words spilled out.

“No, no,” Kaveri said, even though Asha could see she was tempted to take it. “You keep it. Next time if they send something, you can give it to me.”

“They want to talk to me on the phone,” Asha said. “And they want to buy me a mobile phone.”

Puttamma shrugged. “These foreign people think we don’t have phones in our country. Today, everyone has one.”

Asha ignored Puttamma. Yes, everyone had a phone these days. The vegetable seller, the auto rickshaw driver, Raman, all did . . . but she and Pratap didn’t.

“Did your parents want to talk to you?” Asha asked Kaveri, ignoring her mother-in-law.

Kaveri nodded. “Yes. I talked to them whenever I went for my checkup. But it was difficult. They didn’t speak any Telugu like your parents do. So one of the nurses translated. They just asked me if I needed anything, if I felt OK. They always started crying when I told them the baby was kicking.”

Asha smiled. “I think my mother will cry, too. She seems very emotional.”

“We Indian women are,” Kaveri said.

That night Pratap wore his watch and was impressed by its sophisticated look. It was silver in color with a chain band, and the dial was white with hour, minute, and second needles. There was a small box at the bottom of the dial that showed the date.

“Why did they send something for me?” he wondered.

“Next time we want parents like yours,” Raman said. “It’s good that they want to get you a mobile phone. In construction, you know, you can’t do business without it.” He held up his black phone wrapped in plastic to prevent scratching.

“You should be careful, though,” Kaveri said. “Don’t get too excited about presents from the parents. You know how it is; they take their baby and don’t look back until they want another.”

It was Mohini’s second birthday, and for it she wore the pretty dress from America. Last year they had gone to the temple, and Asha had made a meal of the kids’ favorite foods: mango dal, potato fry, and yogurt with thick slices of mangoes. Kaveri, Raman, their kids, and Puttamma had come to their hut. It wasn’t a sumptuous meal, but Asha had had to save money to buy the mangoes, which were becoming more expensive by the season.

This year, since they had the money, Asha and Kaveri decided to have a big lunch with fried okra curry,
sambhar
,
pulao
rice,
payasam
, and even a cake that they had ordered at the nearby bakery. Cakes weren’t part of Asha’s childhood, but she wanted them to be part of her children’s. She had ordered a pink cake with Mohini’s name written on it in English.

It felt good to be in the kitchen with Kaveri. Her nausea had now passed, and she felt she had more energy. She wasn’t tired all the time, holding her belly, feeling her insides swirl. She could play with her children, go to the market to shop—and best of all, make food for her family. Kaveri was a decent cook, but Pratap liked his wife’s food, so he was pleased to see Asha back in the kitchen.

With the price of vegetables going up, especially basics like tomatoes, it used to be difficult to manage within their small budget. But since the parents were giving them ample money every month to buy food, Asha didn’t think twice before buying a dozen tomatoes, though she still bargained with the woman selling them to get the price down, out of habit.

The morning of Mohini’s birthday, they followed all the rituals. She was given a bath, and then the whole family went to the nearby temple. The pundit did the birthday puja in Mohini’s name, and Pratap and Asha held hands, pleased with their family and what they knew the future now held for them.

At the end of the puja, Pratap broke open a coconut by smashing it on the floor. The water poured out, and Asha felt it was washing away their past and laying out a new tomorrow before them. The coconut was offered to Lord Venkateshwara Swami, whose temple this was.

Mohini held out her little hand, as they all did, to receive the holy water, tinged with mint. They drank the water with their right hand and wiped their hand by rubbing it over their foreheads and into their hair. Mohini followed suit, and Asha prevented her from drying her hands on her new dress by giving her a white handkerchief.

They all sat down on the floor, facing the god as they ate their
prasad
, white sugar candies that were said to be blessings from God.

“So many things have changed since her last birthday,” Pratap said.

“All for the better,
Anna
,” Raman said to his brother. “All our lives have been made better. I never thought we’d own our own house, a
pukka
brick house, but we do. And even though it is just a flat, it is ours and that makes me so proud.” He looked lovingly at his wife then, and Kaveri smiled back at him.

“Lord Venkateshwara Swami has provided for us,” Kaveri said, and put her arms around her sons, who were sitting on either side of her. They squirmed a little but allowed Kaveri to kiss them on their cheeks.

Manoj sat next to his father and looked speculatively at the white candy in his hand, melting slowly, making his right hand sticky. He then put the candy in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Why does God give us sweets?” he asked no one in particular.

“Because whatever God gives us is sweet,” Asha said, reaching out and wiping his hand with the same handkerchief she had used to dry Mohini’s.

“God gives us floods and earthquakes, too, but those are not sweet,” Manoj said.

Puttamma sighed. “Today is Mohini’s birthday and not a day to talk about floods and nonsense.”

“Next year you will start going to a special school, Manoj, and there you can ask all about such things,” Asha said.

“I like my school,” Manoj protested. “The teachers are nice to me.”

“In this special school the teachers will be nicer,” Asha promised. “And you will learn a lot more than you do now.”

Manoj shrugged, his gesture strikingly adult on his little body. “I learn enough now. I learned about the solar system yesterday.”

As Manoj talked about the sun and the planets, Asha watched him with delight. She touched her stomach and thanked God for bringing her this opportunity. Manoj would learn bigger and better things. He would have more education than Asha and Pratap had ever dreamed of. He wouldn’t end up painting houses; he’d end up
living
in those big houses, having a big job, being a big man.

Puttamma talked about how pleased she was that both her sons had found such wonderful and sacrificing wives. It was a day of celebration, of being positive. She knew that unpleasantness lay ahead—but for now, they should enjoy their good fortune.

In the afternoon, Srinivas, Pratap’s cousin, joined them, along with his wife and parents. His wife, Nayantara, was from Hyderabad and was a little snobbish. She hated living in Srirampuram and constantly talked about how her husband and she were working on moving to Hyderabad as soon as possible. If anyone could do it, though, they could; Nayantara and Srinivas were the most educated people Asha knew.