The Weight of Heaven (16 page)

with that?”

Ramesh smacked his lips. “The pickle makes the sandwich good.

Otherwise, it’s too boring.”

“Guess it’s no different than mustard on a hot dog,” Frank said

to Ellie. He let out a sudden groan. “God. What would I give for a

nice, juicy hot dog right now?”

“You eat dog?” Ramesh looked so outraged that Ellie burst out

laughing.

“It’s not a dog. It’s just called that. It’s actually a—” Her mind

went blank. What exactly was a hot dog? Beef or pork? “It’s just

meat,” she added lamely.

“And boy, let me tell you. On a hot summer’s day like this, nothing tastes better.” Frank was still waxing nostalgic.

Ramesh chewed with his mouth open. “Let’s cook it for Christmas this year,” he said. “I’ll tell my dada to make it.”

“No, no, no. You don’t have it for Christmas. It’s summer food.”

Frank closed his eyes. “It’s what you have on the Fourth of July. A

nice, cold beer, a fat, juicy burger, and a hot dog.”

“Stop,” Ellie smiled. “You’re making me homesick.”

“The Fourth of July is American independence day,” Ramesh

declared. “I learned at school.”

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 1 0 9

“Right-o,” Frank said.

“When is Indian independence day?” Ramesh asked. “You

know?”

Ellie and Frank looked at each other, startled. Did they know?

They remembered being in Bombay last year because it was a bank

holiday and the factory was closed. “I know it’s in August,” Ellie

stammered, little embarrassed. “Is it August seventeenth?”

“August fifteenth,” Ramesh yelled. He glared at them. “I know

America’s independence day, but you don’t know India’s,” he said.

“Okay, buckaroo. You’ve made your point,” Frank said. “Now

let up.”

Ramesh’s ears perked up. “Bukaroo? Like a kangaroo?” He

bent his hands at the wrist and held them toward his chest. “Want

to see me hop, hop, hop?” Before they could reply, he was struck

by another thought. “
Ae
. Let’s cook hot dogs for your independence

day. I’m sure Dada knows how to make them.”

Frank shuddered visibly, and Ellie knew that the thought of

Prakash making hot dogs was sacrilegious to him. But to Ramesh,

he merely said, “Afraid not, bud. We’re going to be in Bombay for

the Fourth of July.”

Ellie looked at him inquiringly and then remembered. The

American consulate was throwing a bash for American expatriates

in and around Bombay. Knowing of her reluctance to attend such

gatherings, Frank had bribed her with a boat trip to see the Elephanta Caves if she agreed to go. She’d said yes mostly because she

knew he wanted her to.

“Bombay?” Ramesh screamed. “You’re going to Bombay? Can

I come?”

Ellie watched as Frank’s face went through several contortions

at those last words. First, he looked startled, as if the thought had

not occurred to him. Then, the prospect of Ramesh’s company

made it light up. Immediately, though, the light vanished, dulled

by the reminder that Ellie would probably not look too kindly at

1 1 0 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

this intrusion. This realization was followed by a sharp, stabbing

resentment at having to sacrifice his pleasure out of a sense of duty

toward his wife. Finally, he threw a blanket of blankness over it all

and turned to face Ramesh. “I wish you could, buddy,” he said. “But

not this time.”

But Ellie had seen the wistfulness on Frank’s face. And beneath

his cursory denial of Ramesh’s request, she heard the anguished

regret at refusing not only the boy but also his own heart’s desire.

She couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason for that refusal.

That much she loved him. That much she owed him—the right to

occasional happiness that only a bright Indian boy, who belonged

to other people, seemed to bring him. Also, she felt an immense

sadness as she watched the suddenly downcast Ramesh, saw his

bent, disappointed head. She remembered all the places Benny had

seen by age seven—Disneyland, New York City, Florence, Captiva Island, Boulder, Cape Cod—and compared that to the fact that

Ramesh had never left his hometown, had never seen the giant metropolis that lay less than a few hours away. And who knew what

seeing Bombay might do for the boy, what lurking dreams it might

arouse, what horizons it might expand? Ellie remembered how

going to Barcelona when she was eleven had affected her. “You

all go home,” she’d said to her parents when it was time to leave.

“I’m gonna stay here.” They had laughed, and of course she’d gone

to Shaker Heights but some part of her—the ambitious, cosmopolitan, worldly part—had been shaped forever by that trip. And she

was the daughter of a history professor, had grown up in a home

with maps and atlases and books, no stranger to the glories and

splendor of the wider world. How now could she deprive Ramesh of

his one chance to step outside the confines of his life? What she and

Frank could provide for Ramesh without the slightest sacrifice, with

a mere flick of their wrist, would take Prakash and Edna a lifetime

of scrimping and saving and hardship. A trip to Bombay was the

least they could do.

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 1 1 1

“Why can’t he go with us?” she asked.

Frank’s head jerked up, and there was a light in his eyes that Ellie

had not seen in two years. “I . . . I just assumed . . . I guess . . . no

real reason why he can’t . . .”

“I mean, do you think the embassy people might object?” she

said, enjoying this power to make Frank happy, prolonging it.

“Hell, no. I mean, the invitation said children were welcome.

It’s just a picnic, anyway, a casual affair.” Frank’s left eye twitched,

and Ellie watched in fascination. His eye generally twitched only

in times of stress. How badly he wants this! she thought in wonder.

And how hard he tries to hide this need from me! For the first time,

Ellie felt grateful for Ramesh’s presence in their lives. Perhaps this

boy could be the rope that pulled her drowning husband out of his

grief. Perhaps he could be the silken thread that reconnected her to

Frank.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the whoops of joy emanating

from the boy sitting next to her. “Yessssssssssssssss, Ellie,” Ramesh

yelled. “Thank you, thank you. Always I’ve wanted to see Mumbai.

I am wanting to meet Shahrukh Khan.”

“Who’s Shahrukh Khan?” Ellie said and heard Ramesh’s gasp.

“You don’t know Shahrukh Khan? He’s the bestest actor. My

own favorite.” Ramesh leapt up from the blanket, and striking his

best macho pose, began to recite dialogue from Khan’s latest film.

They listened to the boy for a few minutes, and then Frank turned

toward Ellie. “Thank you,” he said simply.

She squeezed his hand. “It’s no big deal. Besides, it will be fun to

have him around.”

“I wonder if he’ll like the city? Or be afraid of it?” Frank smiled.

“Do you remember when we took Ben to New York? How he

wanted to go into the peep shows because he thought there would

be chickens there?”

She smiled back. “Sure. Remember the visit to Saint Patrick’s?”

They had wandered into the magnificent cathedral on Saturday

1 1 2 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

afternoon. Despite their Catholic childhoods, neither Frank nor

Ellie was particularly devout, and as they walked down the aisle

and took in the stained glass windows, the high ceilings, and the

ornate altar, they scarcely noticed the small clusters of people who

sat in the pews with their heads bowed and eyes closed. Ellie lit a

candle on behalf of her mother and then turned to her five-year-old

son and asked if he was ready to leave. “But we haven’t prayed yet,”

Benny replied. And before they could react, he raced ahead and sat

in a pew next to a disheveled-looking man, who was wearing a tattered coat and staring into space. His eyes tightly closed, Benny sat

beside the man, who reeked of alcohol and urine, for close to ten

minutes. Occasionally, his lips moved. Finally, the boy opened his

eyes, said a loud, “Bye,” to his ragged companion, and joined his

parents. “Okay, I’m done talking to God now,” he said.

For the rest of that day, Ellie had looked at her son with something approaching awe, realizing that the whiny boy who only

wanted fried rice for dinner that night and wanted his dad to carry

him back to the hotel was also a mysterious, spiritual being whose

individuality was already beginning to assert itself.

She had thought about that strange incident many times, especially since Benny’s death. “You remember?” she now asked

Frank.

He nodded. “Of course.” He paused, looking out to where the

sea spread before them like a large banquet table. “He was quite a

little man, our Benny.”

They both looked away, eyes stinging with tears, afraid to speak

until the moment passed and they could control their voices again.

Ellie covered Frank’s hands with hers. “I bet you Ramesh will love

Bombay,” she said at last. “How could he not? It’s fast, busy, exhilarating—just like him.”

Frank sighed. “It’s still almost a month away. Wish it was sooner.

I could really use a long weekend off.”

Chapter 10

Ellie gritted her teeth and swore to herself. Edna was standing

before her and wailing, beating her forehead and cursing her bad

luck for marrying a stupid wreck of a husband. Despite the fact that

the woman’s anguish seemed genuine enough, Ellie couldn’t dismiss

the feeling that some of the high drama was for her benefit, that

Edna was trying to cover up her embarrassment at her husband’s

obstinacy with her wailings and mutterings.

Prakash was being an ass, no question about that. It was three

days before they were to leave for Bombay, and the man had suddenly changed his mind about letting Ramesh accompany them.

Edna had crept up to Ellie about a half hour ago with the news.

“What to do, madam? The fool is becoming more-more stubborn

in his old age. God only knows what got into his head last night, but

he saying he won’t let Ramesh go.”

“Have you told Ramesh?”

Edna wailed even louder. “No, madam. If that mule wants to

break his son’s heart, let him tell him. That boy has been excited as

a firecracker over this for weeks.”

“I see.” Ellie didn’t know which would be harder, Frank’s despondency or his rage when she told him the news. She suddenly felt

1 1 4 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

fed up with the whole situation, this weird dance in which she was

caught between the egos and insecurities of two warring men. And

Edna was getting on her nerves. Such drama, so early in the morning. Now Edna was evoking the memory of her mother, wishing she

had listened to her admonishments about marrying a non-Christian.

“These Hindus, madam,” she sniffed. “Not the same as us. Sooner

or later, they show their true nature. My mama was correct. This

man is a total loss.”

Despite herself, Ellie laughed. “Edna, please,” she said. “This is

a simple case of a father not wanting his son to go with us because

he’s—well, who knows why? Let’s not turn this into a religious

war.”

Edna looked injured and continued to mutter darkly about

Prakash’s ways. But at least the wailing had stopped. In that silence,

Ellie decided to act. “Is Prakash home?” she asked Edna.

“Of course, madam.”

“I want to speak to him,” she said. “Can we go to your house?”

She caught Edna’s startled look. She had never before crossed the

courtyard and entered Edna’s house. The realization that she had no

idea what her servant’s home looked like, despite the fact that they

shared an address, made Ellie blush. “Let’s go,” she said gruffly.

The one-room shack had two cots on either end. A third mattress

lay on the floor beside one of the cots. A half-partition made way for

a little kitchen, and Ellie surmised that the bathroom was behind a

yellow door at the far end of the room. Two decrepit-looking chairs

were propped against a wall, and a small television set rested on one

of them. Even though she knew that Edna’s living quarters were

much better than those of many of the villagers, Ellie was shocked at

how spartan a life her housekeepers lived. No wonder poor Ramesh

was always looking for an opportunity to spend time in their home.

She wondered what the boy thought of their house. She also felt a

twinge of apprehension at taking Ramesh to the Taj, where they

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 1 1 5

would be staying during their time in Bombay. The five-star hotel

would be something beyond what the boy’s imagination could conjure up. She half wondered if insisting on the boy going with them

was a mistake, but then she saw Prakash sitting on his haunches in

the kitchen area, and her temper spiked.

Prakash stayed on his haunches, but Ellie caught the murderous

look that he flung at his wife at this intrusion. She knew Edna would

pay for this barging-in, but right now she couldn’t think of that.

She just wanted the matter resolved before Frank found out about

it. “Prakash,” she said sharply. “Edna told me you were against

Ramesh going with us. I was so shocked, I knew there had to be a