The Vibrant Years(26)

Well, in this moment it meant that a man had died “following the act of coitus,” as the doctor had declared when informing them of the death.

Bindu had blinked up at the doctor, who looked far too young to be declaring deaths, as he walked away, and then turned to Aly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve found a man dead, you know. I was the one who found Rajendra. I didn’t need a resident to tell me what I already knew.”

Saying the words had turned Bindu’s skin paper pale, leaving behind a constellation of freckles across her cheeks. Since then, Bindu had barely said a single word.

Aly stuffed Ashish’s pictures back in the drawer and ignored the inexplicable anger that burned inside her. The reason those stupid pictures were in that drawer was that Bindu thought they would hurt Aly’s feelings if they were on a wall. Aly hated when Bindu coddled her.

Why do you need to be coddled so much? Ashish had always said to her. You women want to play the feminism card, call it equality, but all you want is to be coddled.

Slamming the drawer shut with more force than she usually allowed herself, she set the cups of tea on a tray and took it to the bedroom, where the barest amount of light filtered through the blinds.

No, she would not let her ex-husband’s voice tell her that letting Bindu stay in bed so long was coddling her. A man had died in her arms. Well, not in her arms, exactly.

Embarrassment heated Aly’s face at the inappropriate urge to laugh. Cullie and Bindu were rubbing off on her.

Except that Bindu was nowhere to be found this morning. Her irreverent—“extra,” as Cullie called her—mother-in-law seemed utterly snuffed out as she pretended to be asleep while Aly stood there, studying her over a steaming tea tray.

“Morning, Ma,” Aly said. “Chai’s ready!”

Bindu sniffled and kept her eyes closed. She hadn’t cried, but her perfect button nose was bright red with holding in tears.

“I used a lot of lemongrass and ginger. I bet you won’t be able to complain about there not being enough,” Aly said, placing the tray on the nightstand.

When Bindu continued to pretend to be asleep, Aly put a hand on her shoulder. “Ma, it’s noon. If you don’t get some chai in your system, you’re going to get a headache.”

“Too late for that.” Finally a response.

“Do you want acetaminophen?”

Bindu pushed off the pillow she was hugging and sat up. Her eyes were puffy, and her hair was pressed up on one side. The batik kaftan nightie she was wearing seemed oddly droopy around her. As though she had shrunk overnight.

Her phone buzzed next to her, and she stiffened, a tremble going through her at the sound.

“Is it the coven again?” Aly picked up Bindu’s phone.

The fact that Bindu just sat there and didn’t grab the phone away said a million words.

“Those bitches,” Cullie said from under the block-printed Jaipur quilt. “That phone has been buzzing nonstop.”

Bindu patted Cullie’s burrowed head and finally took the tea from Aly.

“What is wrong with them?” Cullie popped up with the sheets still on her head.

The messages on Bindu’s phone were nasty. Ugly.

“Maybe you should kill them, too,” Aly said, more angrily than she’d intended.

Cullie sat up. The quilt slid off. “Mom!” She threw Bindu a gauging look Aly didn’t understand.

Bindu pushed Cullie’s thick bangs off her forehead, the heavy silken strands exactly like her father’s. Then she turned hurt eyes on Aly. “Did you just accuse me of killing someone?”

“What? No!”

“You said too,” Bindu and Cullie said together, with matching accusatory tones.

Aly pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry,” she said, kicking herself for her callousness because Bindu looked numb, shaken. “That came out wrong.”

“Do you really think I killed him?” Bindu said, then pressed her hand to her face.

Cullie threw her arms around her grandmother and a look of rage at Aly. “Binji, come on. Mom was making a tasteless joke about killing the coven.”

Really, Cullie?

Aly put a hand on Bindu’s shoulder. “I was. Of course I don’t think you killed him. No one thinks that.”

“Well, these witches do.” Bindu pointed to her phone.

Cullie took the phone and held it up to her grandmother’s face, and the screen unlocked to a picture of Cullie holding the Forbes magazine declaring her one of the most influential thirty people under thirty.

“Give that back.” But there was no force in Bindu’s voice.

“What is wrong with these women?”

“What are they saying?” Aly reached for the phone, but Cullie moved it out of the way and furiously swiped her thumb across the screen.

“An eviction notice? Who is their lawyer? Daffy Duck? Did he even go to law school?” She made a buzzing sound as she speed-read through the emails. “A PR nightmare? It’s only a PR nightmare if they leak it to the media and lie about how it happened. This is a senior living facility. People drop dead all the time.” She threw a quick look at Bindu. “Sorry, Binji. I don’t mean you. You’re a baby here.”

Bindu waved away her words. “How do they even know the . . . the circumstances under which he died? Could the police have told them?”