The Direction of the Wind: A Novel(89)

Kiran and Sophie meet at her house, which she realizes is where they first met when they were kids. She arrives before him, wanting to spend some time alone in the bungalow. While the personal effects have all been removed, the custom furniture is still there, and she knows it will stay with the home and go to the new owner. Her fois are ready to sell it and move on. Sophie, however, is not ready to let it go.

She pictures Nita in this home. Not the woman she missed throughout her childhood but the one she has now come to know. The one who felt stifled and wanted to run from this life. She looks at the nook near the dining table where Nita used to set up her easel for painting. The window faces a narrow ridge of trees in their backyard, and beyond that are the upper levels of other bungalows in the neighborhood.

Sophie never knew what Nita was thinking about as she stared out of that window while Sophie played near her, but she now believes Nita was dreaming of France. And of a life in Paris that was very different from the one she ended up having. Sophie thinks Nita looked out that window and painted to escape the life in India in which she felt so trapped. Given how things turned out, Sophie wonders if she ever regretted her decisions. Perhaps the closest she will get to an answer is the fact that Nita seemed ready to come back to India. Maybe even to the family she left behind, if they would have her. And Rajiv’s forgiveness was limitless, so Sophie knew the choice would always have been Nita’s to simply return.

Sophie slides her fingers along the cool metal railing of the stairs as she heads up to her room. Her fois have left it alone, waiting for her to pack it. It’s the only area with any personal items left behind. Sophie has lived every single day of her life in that room, and it was not until Papa’s death that she really contemplated the fact that she would someday have to build a life outside of these four walls.

She ventures into her parents’ bedroom and pictures Nita sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair. She envisions Papa in the closet, untying his tie and changing into his lengha while they discussed the plans for the next day. They did this every day even though the plans were always the same: Sophie would be at school, Rajiv would be at work, and Nita would be home or running errands until Sophie returned. It was a simple life. One that had made Sophie happy.

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears tires pulling into the gravel driveway. She switches off the lights in the bedroom and goes downstairs to meet Kiran.

His keys dangle from his fingers, and he smiles as she opens the door. He looks rather Western in his red plaid shirt and medium-wash jeans, but with his shirt still tucked in and his jeans belted, he still could not pass for a native Westerner. Sophie has always felt that Kiran falls somewhere in between Indian and Western, never quite passing fully for either. He removes his shoes in the foyer and follows Sophie to the living room.

“I’m afraid my fois have cleaned out most of the home, so I can’t offer you any chai or nasta,” Sophie says as she gestures for him to sit on the L-shaped sectional.

He holds up his hands in polite protest. “Not to worry. I have just come from lunch and could not eat or drink another bite.”

She sits on the other portion of the sofa so it’s easier for them to face each other while speaking.

“Did you get the answers you were hoping for on your trip?” he asks.

Sophie mulls over his question. “I got the answers I needed to start the next chapter.”

Kiran nods.

“If we married, you would still be marrying an orphan,” she says.

He shrugs. “Nothing has changed since we first met to discuss marrying, but I am sorry for your loss. Again.”

On the surface, yes, but for Sophie everything has changed.

“You surprised me very much by coming to Paris. It was kind. Thoughtful. The type of gesture from a man Papa would be proud to see me marry.”

“So, you are still considering it, then? Us marrying?”

“You would still want to go forward, even after learning the scandal of what my mummy did?”

“That depends.” He meets her gaze. “If we marry and you are not happy, will you speak to me about it first before running off to Europe?”

Sophie laughs. “It is a fair question. I can’t promise that we will be happy all the time or even forever, but I know India is my home. Not because it’s obligated to be but because I want it to be. There were so many strange things in France and America that I could never get used to!” She wrinkles her nose. “The people keep completely to themselves. No one says ‘Hi, how are you?’ when going down the streets. It’s a very different life, and one that is not for me.”

“I’m not sure if you answered my question,” Kiran says.

Sophie smiles. “I would not leave without telling you. And I don’t think I will ever want to leave Ahmedabad.”

He nods, satisfied. “If you want to go to Europe or anywhere else, let’s just have a chat about it, and we can plan a trip!”

“That is a deal. But there is more you should know.” Sophie inhales sharply, knowing she cannot move forward without revealing this.

“My mummy, she . . .” Her voice trails off as she searches for the words. “She suffered from some addictions while she was in France.” Kiran’s expression does not change. “I don’t know if that is something that lives inside of me too . . . something that I could pass on to our children.” She blushes and drops her gaze to the floor. “That is, I’m assuming you want children,” she says in a faint voice.