Thank you, my mother said quietly. That does help. That’s how it was for me too. I was there but not there.
Well you won’t be going back Monday morning, Steve said. That’s pretty cool.
Yeah, my mother said, but she looked overwhelmed and tired. Slumped down in her chair.
The king crab arrived then. Enormous legs white and red on a long platter, and my mother sat up.
That’s a big one, Steve said.
And here’s some melted butter, the waiter said, setting down a small steel cup. Enjoy. And then he was gone, out of there quickly.
We can share this, my mother said.
I can’t, I said.
It’s not a fish.
I know. But they’re in the aquarium. I don’t love them in the same way, but still I think of those legs moving, reaching up toward the glass.
Okay, my mother said. Please don’t say anything more. I want to enjoy. I don’t want to imagine my food moving. My mother had a bit of a smile when she said it, though, and it felt like the weight was off us. Steve grinned and grabbed a leg and snapped it.
You can use the olive oil instead of butter, he said. Healthier, and I think it actually tastes a lot better. He poured oil onto his bread plate and my mother nodded and he poured onto hers, also, and they dipped long sections of white meat edged in red. Meat made of small strands all radiating from the center, as if the crab had been born in a burst of light, a small sudden explosion on the ocean floor, unnoticed. That’s what I saw then, darkness and cold at depth and each crab winking into existence. They seemed as alien as that, not born of this world.
W
e all went to bed early that night. I think we were avoiding the possibility of another argument. The house quiet. My grandfather just on the other side of my bedroom wall, so close. Our heads maybe two feet apart as we slept, and I wondered whether he had done this on purpose.
My mother and Steve behind the other wall. I was in the middle, safe. I wished we could be like nurse sharks or clown loaches, just piled up together in the corner of one room, sleeping on top of each other, suspended in the one element, no separation of air, but at least we were all here under one roof and rooms touching. Only Shalini was missing.
It felt very strange to sleep in a new home. Eyes closed, snuggled under the enormous comforter, the bed so much softer than any I’d experienced before, something I could sink into, but I was trying to feel the outlines of the house, trying to reach into every corner to make it familiar. Like sonar in dolphins, closing their eyes and feeling their way through darkness, knowing shape and void. Was it a sense like touch or like sight?
And sharks, able to sense electromagnetic fields. Brains tiny and prehistoric, without feeling or memory or thought but somehow knowing the electrical weight of every living thing, even the faint movement of a fish’s gills or the beating of its small, simple heart. I wanted to know this, too, to have the darkness light up with every movement and breath. I could understand it only as a kind of vision. Impossible to imagine the contact of a new sense.
I wanted to live submerged. The problem was air, too thin and cold, all contact lost. Shalini seemed forever away, unreachable, and even my mother and grandfather. The room would become solid again, walls something that could not be reached through, everything hidden, and I’d open my eyes and see only faint outlines of all that enclosed.
I finally slept, somehow, and when I awoke it was to the smell of bacon. My room cold and comforter soft and warm, and this was perfect, to hide away, smelling breakfast.
I waited until my mother knocked at my door, softly, and then opened it and peered in. Morning, sweet pea, she said. Steve made pancakes.
Mm, I said.
My mother came in and sat beside me on the bed, brushed the hair back from my face. How do you like your new home? she asked.
I love it.
Me too. It’s different to live in a nice place, to look up at the dark wood beams in the ceiling. To not have everything cheap. I can’t explain it, but I feel different inside, as if a nice floor and this furniture can change what I’m worth, the core of me. I know it shouldn’t be like that, but I feel it anyway. A kind of warmth, or relaxing, like it’s easier to breathe.
My mother no longer so hard, so mean. I wanted her always to be like this, softened and happier, but I knew her anger could come back at any moment, without warning.
Plates are on the table, Steve called out.
My mother gave me a pat on the leg. Time to get up, sleepyhead. You can just wear your pajamas and slippers.
My stomach was growling, so I was up fairly quick. It was much warmer in the main room. Steve and my grandfather and mother all sitting at the table, already started eating. I had to pee, and I loved the bathroom with its old toilet that had a water tank up high and a chain to pull with a white porcelain handle. Wood floor in here too, no disgusting carpet anywhere, and a claw-foot tub. It was a big bathroom, which was why my grandfather’s bedroom was so small. A fancy mirror and slats of wood halfway up the walls.
I pulled the handle and washed my hands and looked at myself in the mirror, hair sticking up on one side from my pillow. Eyes sleepy, but I looked happy. Pale skin that seemed very thin. If I were a fish, I’d be something for a cave, pale and big-eyed and not used to light. Bones showing through. I puffed my mouth, tried to imagine gills. The sides of my jaw almost the right shape. My hair sticking up could almost be a dorsal fin, a bit lopsided. But my stomach was growling, so I needed to move out of this cave to feed.
My plate was already piled with pancakes and strawberries and bacon. Yay, I said.
Steve smiled. He liked to have his food appreciated.
This is a big step up from my usual cereal, my grandfather said.
There was a knock then, and I knew it was Shalini. I screamed and ran to the door and could hear her scream even before I opened it. We collided in a hug and jumped up and down.
I’m sorry, her mother was saying. You’re having breakfast. We’re too early. I told Shalini, but she demanded to come.
My mother was laughing, though. Caitlin didn’t even tell us. This was arranged on the sneak.
No, Shalini’s mother said. I’m so sorry. I’ll take her back home.
It’s fine, my mother said. It’s funny.
Shalini and I were hugging, and I felt a flush of heat, and I knew we had to not do this in front of everyone, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward my bedroom. You have to see, I yelled. It’s the most beautiful house, and the best bedroom.
I pulled her in and slammed the door shut and then we were kissing. Her soft purplish lips, so delicious. I kept looking at them and then kissing and then looking again, wanting her mouth, and she was laughing. Her eyes the darkest eyes and brightest at the same time, gold somehow in a deep dark chocolate brown.
I only think of you, she whispered. I can’t think of anything else. What have you done to me?
I couldn’t stop kissing her, even when she was speaking. Her hands on my back, under my pajamas, pulling me close.
Caitlin, my mother called, and knocked on the door. You have to finish breakfast. And maybe say hello to Shalini’s mother. Jeez.
Maybe they’ll just go away, I whispered.
Shalini smiled and stepped back, pushed my hands away, then opened the door. This is a beautiful home, she said to our smiling mothers.
Have you had breakfast? Steve asked. Please join us for pancakes, both of you.
I should go, Shalini’s mother said. My husband looked very confused when we left.
Shalini’s mother was beautiful. And just listening to her, you could tell she didn’t have the rough side that my mother had. I wanted her to stay as a shield. My mother free to do or say anything in front of my grandfather and Steve, and this would be true in front of Shalini, also, I knew, but not her mother. Please stay, I said.
She put her hand on my cheek. How darling, she said. But I should go. Have fun, and don’t stay up all night. She looked at my mother then. They haven’t told you it’s a sleepover, have they?
No, my mother said. But that’s fine.
I’ll take them to school tomorrow, my grandfather said. He was standing at the table holding on to his chair. It must have been so strange to suddenly have all these people in his home.
Are you sure? I can take Shalini back home now.
No, really, my mother said.
Well I’ll leave you then, she said, and kissed Shalini’s cheek and was out the door.
Well, Steve said. The most fabulous breakfast ever made by human hands is getting cold.
So modest, my mother said.
No bacon for Shalini, I said. And I have to give back my bacon, too.
More for me, my mother said, and reached over and grabbed the beautiful strips that had been on top my pancakes. I was sad to see them go.
You can have your bacon, Shalini said, and I loved the way she said it, her voice in a lilt that made the word bacon something new.
No, I said. I’m a Buddhist. I worship the golden fish.
Shalini laughed.
What’s that? my mother asked. She was talking with her mouth full of pancake. My grandfather and Steve were tucking in, also, everyone’s forks busy. Only Shalini used a knife to cut.
After Steve told me about the Pharaoh Fish, I told Mr. Gustafson that I was Buddhist and worshipped the golden fish.
Nice influence, my mother said, and punched Steve.
What? Steve said. I was only talking about my time in Egypt, when I lived on the bottom of the river.
Now I see why Caitlin is so crazy, Shalini said.
My grandfather looked so happy, watching us eat and talk. When I remember him, I often think of that morning, because it was our first time all together with Shalini, a wonderful morning when all was peaceful and good, no fighting, and our lives seemed like new things that would stretch on forever. An innocence. There would be such terrible moments later that day, but for now, all was safe and calm, and I could still love everyone in an easy way.
I
t began with Steve’s idea to go cut down a Christmas tree. He should have known this would be too much for my mother. She didn’t want my grandfather to have a happy Christmas family time. We all should have known to say no. But Steve looked so excited.
We’ll run through the snow like wolves, he said. I’ll carry the handsaw, like some man from a fairy tale. I’ve always wanted to do this and never have. Just run into the forest and cut down a tree.
Is that legal? my mother asked.
One tree, Steve said. And not even a big one. Who will miss it?
I don’t know.
What about you, Caitlin? Steve asked. And Shalini. Do you want to run through the forest like wolves?
I looked at Shalini and we laughed.
That sounds like a yes, Steve said. What about you, Bob? he asked my grandfather.
Okay, my grandfather said. He was smiling. I don’t mind getting in a little trouble. This was the end of breakfast, all of us full and leaning back into our chairs. My grandfather’s arms crossed. He wore a brown cardigan. His eyes blinking.
Well, my mother said. I don’t know. She grabbed a last strawberry. I guess if I have to spend the night in jail, at least I don’t have to go to work right after.
There you go, Steve said. We’re all set then. He jumped up from his seat and started grabbing dishes.
All the maple syrup everywhere, and I wanted to kiss Shalini with maple syrup lips.
My first Christmas tree, she said. Today I will be more American.
How long have you been here? my grandfather asked.
Six months.
How is your English so good after only six months?
We learned English in school in Delhi, where I come from. It used to be British English, so I have a bit of an accent, even though everyone’s learning American now.
Fancy, my grandfather said.
Yes. I try to be fancy.
My grandfather laughed. Well any friend of Caitlin’s is a friend of mine.
My mother had a sour look already, and my grandfather should have been more careful.
I got up and helped with the dishes.
What’s Delhi like? my grandfather asked.
We had a bigger house, many rooms, and many people to do the cooking and cleaning, and I had tutors. And the city was enormous, and had so many things.
It seems strange that you left.
Yes.
We’ll all need boots and snow pants, Steve said.
We don’t have those, my mother said. Cheap rain pants, I guess, the kind you just put over your regular pants, but no boots except rubber ones.
Those’ll work. We won’t be out in the snow long. Just put on some good socks, two layers.
I don’t have any boots, Shalini said. I’m sorry.
It’s a different place, my grandfather said. But it sounds like you had everything in India, like your family was well off there.
Yes.
You have a class system there.