The Direction of the Wind: A Novel(28)
“I do think you should bring these friends of yours to the bar one day. I’d love to meet them. You never know, if you don’t want them, then maybe I will have a go!”
Nita knew she was joking, but the thought of Dao and Mathieu or Simon together did not sit well with her. In just a few moments, she planned their entire life together. They and Dao had all been raised in the West, so they had similar backgrounds, even if Dao was Thai and they were white and there might be a racial caste disparity. They all understood the same jokes and cultural references to television shows and songs, and Dao knew all the foods they ate and wine they drank. And above all else, Nita had spent enough time in Paris to notice the numbers of white men holding hands with striking, slender Asian women with features and hair like Dao’s and knew that Dao’s type of Asian was a prize greater than Nita’s. The thought of one of them with Dao unnerved her so much that she vowed not to introduce them. She couldn’t give up her friendship with any of them, and the best way to keep things the same was to ensure they never met.
15
SOPHIE
2019
Sophie does not cry as she lugs her suitcase through the streets of Paris, unsure of where to go. She does some quick calculations and knows her remaining rupees are worth only about €200. She has put her cash and engagement ring into her money belt, vowing not to wear the ring again in this city and attract would-be thieves. She refuses to cry. Her tears lately have been reserved for Papa’s passing. She will not let those two horrible people elicit the same reaction as her beloved Papa. “Bhagwan will take care of those who are bad,” he would always say, and she remembers those words now as she stands at a busy intersection, waiting for the light to change so she can cross.
She has always believed these words. Lived her entire life according to them. Convinced herself that she always had to take the high road and never degrade herself to the lower levels of others. But now she wonders if that is true. If there is any justice in the world. If there were, surely Papa would not have been taken from her. Her mummy would not have left her. It’s hard to believe the universe has a plan when everything around her feels random.
She cannot believe that people from her home country would scam her the way that Saumil and Anjali had. She could never even think of doing such a thing to another person. They must have made her their mark straight from the airport, and she cannot believe she had been so gullible. Her desperation had clouded her judgment, but she cannot be the doe-eyed victim again. Before, she hadn’t been aware, but now she is, and she must start to take responsibility for herself. And she learned enough today about Nita that she needs to stay and discover the rest. They have already spent too much time apart and have a lifetime of stories to learn about each other. Nita owes her answers, and Sophie is determined to get them. Determined in a way she never was before. She convinces herself this is a simple equation, just like any other, and it is up to her to find the solution.
Sophie knows nothing of this city, and the only place she can think to go is the same place Nita had sought refuge when she first came to Paris. She knows the path this time and can get there quickly, which is good, given that her luggage is beginning to strain her arms after she’d hauled it behind her for thirty minutes.
Cecile is seated exactly as she had been earlier that day, her phone very close to her face. She smiles when Sophie enters.
“Did you find her already?” she asks. “How is our dear artist?”
Sophie shakes her head. “I’m afraid I was sidetracked. I came across some very bad people, and they took my money from me.”
Cecile rushes to Sophie and puts her hands on Sophie’s slumped shoulders to look at her carefully. “Are you hurt? Shall I call the police?”
Sophie shakes her head again. “It was my fault. I should not have trusted them. And I don’t know what I could tell the police that would be helpful. I probably don’t even know their real names.” Sophie takes a deep breath, and her eyes meet Cecile’s. She breaks from her Indian upbringing to never share problems outside of the home, and says, “Do you have a small room I can rent until I can figure out my finances? I have a little money left, but not much.”
Cecile tightens her grip on Sophie’s shoulders. “If only your aunt could see you now. This was how she came to me that first day she arrived in Paris. Come,” she says. “We aren’t full, and I can put you in one of the beds for a few nights without drawing attention.”
Sophie reaches for her money, but Cecile wags a finger at her. “Put that away. I won’t take your money like this.” She moves back to the reception desk in search of a room key. “And people say we French don’t help others,” she scoffs, mostly to herself. She then hands Sophie a key before helping her maneuver her luggage up the winding staircase.
16
NITA
1998
Nita arrived at the address in the Marais that Mathieu had written for her on a slip of paper. He had found her a modeling job that paid considerably more than her sessions with Simon, and she had been elated. She so desperately needed this money to get through the next month. Mathieu had not told her what to wear, so she decided on her best panjabi, thinking it was always safe to look polished. Underneath the wool coat, the pale-pink silk fabric felt soft against her skin, while the intricate embroidery and jewels around the neckline chafed her chest slightly, a feeling to which experience told her she would grow accustomed as the night wore on.