Page 29
Story: The Ex Factor
And now, after Tara, even more so. I wondered if Aarti had heard those unsaid words. I evaded her gaze and heard her take a deep breath in.
“I sometimes wonder if who we are is also influenced by who our parents are. And what they aren’t,” I mused aloud, trying to track the course of my life.
She leaned back in the chair and tilted her head against the headrest. “I’d assume so.”
“My parents come from a small village in India. Both grew up in large, struggling families. Dad was a smart kid. He worked his ass off and was fortunate to find a couple of good mentors. Went to college in Bangalore, then came here for a doctorate. He fell in love with a white woman who was doing her Ph.D. with him, but fearing his parents’ reprisal, he quietly agreed to an arranged marriage. His only condition was that the bride had to be from a similarly poor family. Only then would she understand his position and the reasons behind his decisions. That young woman was my mother.”
Aarti’s head was now upright, her eyes glued to my face with curiosity. “Does your mother know about the woman he loved?”
“Yes, my parents’ relationship is solid. My mother told us this once. Apparently, he had said,I won’t lie to you. I loved her, and I see her occasionally at conferences. But I will never be untrue to you.”
“Wow! That was some generation!”
“My mom took some time getting over her insecurities. A small-village girl, dark-skinned, which is seen as a curse in India, could hardly speak English at the time. How could she compete with a beautiful, erudite white woman? Dad had said there was no competition.I married you, not her. You are my life, she’s a friend.”
“What does your father do?”
“He retired as a professor of mathematics.”
“Why does that make complete sense?”
We both tittered.
“Yeah, he’s cool that way. That woman he’d loved married one of his friends, and they moved to the same university. They are still friends and my godparents. So much for untangling messy relationships. They made everything look so simple. And here we are, complicating our lives for no good reason.”
“Tell me about it!”
“On account of their humble beginnings, my parents emphasized education and a kind, polite upbringing. Do you know when I first used the word ‘fuck?’ I was twenty-four, and a code had misbehaved. My brother and I were the very definition of straight and narrow. My brother, who’s older, once used an expletive, and my dad sat him down and gave an hour-long lecture about why such words should not be used and what kind of social harm they can cause. I never used them partially to avoid hours of lectures. But long story short, not disappointing our parents in any way became more important than any other achievement.”
“You said were. As in, you’re no longer on the straight and narrow?”
“Well, once I entered the real world, I had to…get real.”
“Good for you. You are a good man, Sujit. I hope you know that.”
“So I’ve been told on occasion.” I drained the last of my drink. “I need to leave. If Devi finds out I was out this late, drinking, she’ll withhold everything that needs my attention tomorrow.”
“Are you scared of Devi?”
“Oh, very! She might be my executive assistant on paper, but in some past life, she was probably my older sister, who doesn’t let me waver from the straight and narrow. She definitely treats me like a younger sibling.”
“And what happens if you find yourself a wild, wanton woman who drags you away from the straight and narrow?”
“Ah, I can only dream of such a day. Anyone who can stand up to Devi and let me take a day off, I’ll owe her big time.”
“Hmm…”
“No, Aarti, that isn’t a dare. You leave that poor woman alone.”
She laughed her beautifully musical laugh and turned into the delicate, kind flower that she was.
I stood up, kissed her forehead, and patted her head. “You’re a remarkable woman.”
“Huh!”
“What?”
“That’s what Sameer said when he told me he loved Tara. He said I’m phenomenal, and I deserve someone who’ll love me for who I am.” She shrugged again. “I guess that’s never happening.”
“I sometimes wonder if who we are is also influenced by who our parents are. And what they aren’t,” I mused aloud, trying to track the course of my life.
She leaned back in the chair and tilted her head against the headrest. “I’d assume so.”
“My parents come from a small village in India. Both grew up in large, struggling families. Dad was a smart kid. He worked his ass off and was fortunate to find a couple of good mentors. Went to college in Bangalore, then came here for a doctorate. He fell in love with a white woman who was doing her Ph.D. with him, but fearing his parents’ reprisal, he quietly agreed to an arranged marriage. His only condition was that the bride had to be from a similarly poor family. Only then would she understand his position and the reasons behind his decisions. That young woman was my mother.”
Aarti’s head was now upright, her eyes glued to my face with curiosity. “Does your mother know about the woman he loved?”
“Yes, my parents’ relationship is solid. My mother told us this once. Apparently, he had said,I won’t lie to you. I loved her, and I see her occasionally at conferences. But I will never be untrue to you.”
“Wow! That was some generation!”
“My mom took some time getting over her insecurities. A small-village girl, dark-skinned, which is seen as a curse in India, could hardly speak English at the time. How could she compete with a beautiful, erudite white woman? Dad had said there was no competition.I married you, not her. You are my life, she’s a friend.”
“What does your father do?”
“He retired as a professor of mathematics.”
“Why does that make complete sense?”
We both tittered.
“Yeah, he’s cool that way. That woman he’d loved married one of his friends, and they moved to the same university. They are still friends and my godparents. So much for untangling messy relationships. They made everything look so simple. And here we are, complicating our lives for no good reason.”
“Tell me about it!”
“On account of their humble beginnings, my parents emphasized education and a kind, polite upbringing. Do you know when I first used the word ‘fuck?’ I was twenty-four, and a code had misbehaved. My brother and I were the very definition of straight and narrow. My brother, who’s older, once used an expletive, and my dad sat him down and gave an hour-long lecture about why such words should not be used and what kind of social harm they can cause. I never used them partially to avoid hours of lectures. But long story short, not disappointing our parents in any way became more important than any other achievement.”
“You said were. As in, you’re no longer on the straight and narrow?”
“Well, once I entered the real world, I had to…get real.”
“Good for you. You are a good man, Sujit. I hope you know that.”
“So I’ve been told on occasion.” I drained the last of my drink. “I need to leave. If Devi finds out I was out this late, drinking, she’ll withhold everything that needs my attention tomorrow.”
“Are you scared of Devi?”
“Oh, very! She might be my executive assistant on paper, but in some past life, she was probably my older sister, who doesn’t let me waver from the straight and narrow. She definitely treats me like a younger sibling.”
“And what happens if you find yourself a wild, wanton woman who drags you away from the straight and narrow?”
“Ah, I can only dream of such a day. Anyone who can stand up to Devi and let me take a day off, I’ll owe her big time.”
“Hmm…”
“No, Aarti, that isn’t a dare. You leave that poor woman alone.”
She laughed her beautifully musical laugh and turned into the delicate, kind flower that she was.
I stood up, kissed her forehead, and patted her head. “You’re a remarkable woman.”
“Huh!”
“What?”
“That’s what Sameer said when he told me he loved Tara. He said I’m phenomenal, and I deserve someone who’ll love me for who I am.” She shrugged again. “I guess that’s never happening.”
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