The Direction of the Wind: A Novel(10)

Nita searched for the right words. “She makes you want to learn her story.”

The man’s lips curled into a half smile. “That she does,” he said wryly.

“You painted these?”

He nodded, pulling a cigarette from the pocket of his worn jeans and tucking it behind his ear while he searched his back pocket for a lighter.

“They are beautiful. Especially the way the light strikes her face . . . the choice of shadows gives her so much depth.”

“You like art?”

She nodded. “Very much.”

“Take it.” He gestured toward the canvas while he lit his cigarette with a practiced flick of his lighter. He inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in for several seconds before releasing it in a steady stream.

Nita resisted the urge to cough. “Merci, but I cannot take it.”

“Oui, you can. Her face haunts me. Better you have it than me.”

“No, I mean, I have nowhere to put it. I only just arrived here.”

His gaze moved carefully from her head to her toes. Even though her canary-yellow panjabi covered every centimeter from her ankles to her wrists to her neck, she felt very exposed. Her cheeks were flushed by the time his eyes met hers.

“You’re from India.” He said it as a statement rather than a question. “I can keep the painting for you here, and when you get settled, you can claim it then.”

She was surprised by the generosity. “That is very kind.”

“Bien s?r. It means you will have to come again.” His blue eyes glinted in a mischievous way that caught Nita off guard.



Rupees did not go very far when converted to francs, so Nita knew she had to be thrifty and think of ways in which she could earn enough to support her new lifestyle, modest as it was, free of servants and fine tailored clothing and fancy hotel meals. She did not speak enough French and had no papers, which were the largest impediments to getting work when she saw the NOUS EMBAUCHONS signs in shops, advertising that help was needed.

As she neared the end of her first week in Paris and her stack of rupees continued to dwindle, her nerves got the better of her, and she called her parents to ask them for help. When she left Ahmedabad, she had left a letter behind for them as well, knowing she could never have said her goodbyes in person. She knew their reaction must have been severe, but she had naively hoped they would understand. After all, they were the people who had tried to force her into a particular mold for her entire life and knew that she had never fit into it. And they were the ones who should want her happiness above all else.

Her papa answered the phone, his tone sterner than she had ever heard it. “What have you done?” he seethed into the crackling line of the collect call she’d had to make. “You have disgraced this family. Beg your husband’s forgiveness, and stop this nonsense immediately.”

“You have a daughter!” her mummy pleaded.

Nita knew that. She never forgot. But how could she explain to her own mummy that she didn’t have the instincts and unconditional love that went with being a mother? That if those were learned skills, her mummy had not taught them to her. Or if they were innate, she’d been born broken. Nita was convinced her presence in Sophie’s life would have ultimately harmed her daughter. Sophie had constantly sought Nita’s approval and attention, and she had none to give her. How would that have impacted Sophie long term, to feel her mummy’s disdain? To Nita, leaving Sophie felt like the most selfish and yet most maternal act she could have done.

“Nita, go back to your husband this instant!” her papa said.

“I can’t,” Nita said softly. “Even if I could, who knows if he would accept it.”

“Of course he will!” her mummy pleaded. “He is there now! Looking for you! You must simply go to him.”

“Yes, yes,” her papa chimed in. “Just go to the hotel, and this all will be done.”

Nita’s blood ran cold. Rajiv was in Paris! He was looking for her. She scanned the room, as if he had been hiding there all along and would jump out at any moment to reclaim her.





5


SOPHIE


2019


Sophie has never flown on an airplane. She’s never even left India. In truth, she has rarely left Ahmedabad, other than a few trips by train to Delhi in the north and Goa in the south, and car trips to the hill stations for vacations. She knows her life experience is limited, but she does not care. Earlier that year, when Papa had insisted on getting her travel documents to join him on his business trips to London, Paris, and New York, she had allowed him to do it because she did not want to disappoint him, but the truth was that she had no desire to visit those places. She was not sure she would have ultimately joined him in the end because the thought of venturing outside of India had filled her with trepidation.

She had tried searching for Nita on the internet, hoping to avoid taking this drastic step of flying to Paris, but there was no trace of her. She is a ghost who haunts only Sophie. Sophie wonders if Nita changed her name in order to prevent being found. She had gone to such great lengths to leave that Sophie knows that anything is possible. Sophie’s world remains in limbo and her questions unanswered until she can find Nita, and so she has had to push past her fears of traveling outside of India by herself.

As she walks through the bustling terminal in Charles de Gaulle, everything around her feels foreign and frenetic. She wishes she had gone with Papa on one of his trips so that she could have learned from him how to navigate another country. He had taught her so much. Because of him she knows how to balance any company’s accounts with a speed and accuracy that is surprising, especially for a woman, as she is often told by her male clients. She knows how to hide the valuables so they are never temptations to their hardworking servants. “Loyalty should not be tested,” Papa would say to her. She knows how to manage her often difficult fois, who are now the only family she has left, so this skill is more important than ever. He had taught her so much, but he’d never taught her how to be an outsider.