Honor: A Novel(89)

Smita waited until Abru dosed off, then got into the left side of the bed, so that Abru was sandwiched between them. After a few minutes, she reached for Mohan over the child’s body, and the three of them slept that way, Smita and Mohan holding hands.





Chapter Thirty-Seven





It had been almost a week since they’d returned to Mumbai, and their days were mostly devoted to Abru.

But the nights belonged to Mohan and Smita.

Now that her story had been published, she was free to spend time with Mohan and Abru. Every evening, Mohan—who had spoken to his boss about his new circumstances and extended his leave—took Abru back to his landlady’s apartment and then returned to the Taj.

Smita watched him as he slept next to her, snoring softly. If only we’d met while living in the same city, she thought, and dated like a normal couple. Out of the blue, she heard Meena’s dying rasp in her ear.

She must have twitched, because Mohan’s eyes flew open. They darted around the room as he tried to get his bearings, and in the second before his eyes focused on her, Smita had a revelation: Here lies a man with his own sacred inner life, his own inviolate soul. She was filled with an intense desire to study Mohan, like learning a foreign language that would open up new vistas.

“What is it?” he said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She nuzzled his cheek. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

But they were both wide awake. After a few minutes, Smita leaned against the headboard and reached for her laptop. It had been three days since her story had run, but the reader comments were still pouring in. She propped up the computer against her body, even though she was a little conflicted about sharing the comments with Mohan. Most of them struck the right notes of indignation and compassion, but there were the usual number of hateful posts, with several people referring to India as a misogynistic, shithole country, as if stories like Meena’s never happened in the West. A month before, such comments would have made Mohan’s hackles rise. But he, too, had changed. Cliff had told her how his phone was blowing up with calls from readers wanting to know if there was a GoFundMe account for Abru, and even though Mohan had immediately refused the help, he was touched by the solicitousness of her American readers.

“Any more developments?” Mohan asked after she shut her laptop.

“Anjali called earlier. I forgot to tell you. Her group is demanding the police investigate Meena’s murder. My first-person story helped, she said.”

Mohan nodded. “I’ll probably have to go back at some time to give a statement.”

“Will I need to come, also?”

“Jaan, things move slowly in India.” He smiled grimly. “You’ll be long gone by then.”

“I hate feeling like I’m leaving you holding the bag. I mean, it’s bad enough that you’re moving ahead with Abru. But now, to also have to testify against Govind . . .”

Mohan shrugged. “I’ll manage.”

“You really want me to come for lunch tomorrow?” Smita asked after a few minutes. “To Zarine Auntie’s house?”

“Smita, why do we have to go over every damn conversation? She wants to meet you. You accepted. I thought the matter was decided.”

“Please don’t be angry at me, Mohan. I can’t bear the thought of you being mad at me.”

“I’m not angry. I’m sorry . . . It’s just that everything happened so fast. And I keep thinking of that poor girl.”

“Me too,” she whispered. “I can’t get her out of my head. I wake up thinking about her. How she reached for my hand just before she . . .”

“Don’t. Force yourself to think of something else. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

They fell silent, co-conspirators, witnesses. Smita shifted in his arms and looked up, memorizing his face.

“Ae,” he said. “Stop looking at me like that. I am here. We still have a few days together. And even after that . . . It’s not like you’re going to the damn moon, yaar. I’ll come see you in America.”





Chapter Thirty-Eight





The next morning, they went to see Shannon at the rehab unit. Nandini had not yet arrived. “She’s coming late today,” Shannon said. “It’s her younger brother’s birthday, so there’s some ceremony at home or something.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Smita said. “I’m supposed to go to Mohan’s for lunch today, to meet his landlady. But I can cancel?”

“Ah yes.” Shannon smiled. “The infamous Zarine Auntie.”

“You’ve met her?

Shannon shook her head. “No. I’ve just heard him talk about her. He thinks the world of her.”

She broke off as Mohan entered the room. “Mohan, love,” Shannon said. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think you could go buy me a fresh coconut from the vendor outside the hospital? Nandini brings me one daily. She claims the coconut water helps promote healing after surgery.”

“She’s right,” Mohan said. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Shannon used her walker to scoot closer to Smita as soon as Mohan was out of the room. She sat on the edge of her bed. “How are you doing?” she asked. “You’ve been through some crazy shit.”