The Vibrant Years(81)
“I made mistakes. I didn’t have the courage to chase what I wanted, and when you did, I had a hard time with that. And it became worse because I didn’t accept that I did. But all those other things, was I really all that? My entire life feels like I’m paying for something I never did. Baba’s actions, other men’s sins. You’re not the only person who feels unseen. All I am to you, to my mother, to my daughter, is a sum total of the things generations of men did before me. You throw the word patriarchy around to explain your anger. I didn’t create any of that, but I feel blamed for it all the time.”
“No!” How convenient to separate himself from the privilege he’d milked. “You are a sum total of the things you do. You know better. You have information they didn’t. You’re able to understand the unfairness and the pain it caused. You have no excuse.”
“You’re right. I have no excuse. I want to do better. But won’t you consider for a moment that it’s not all privilege, being a man. I was raised to think I had to be a breadwinner. My entire existence was tied to it. Engineering and sales and putting on a suit—that’s what gave us the life I was told I had to provide. From where I was standing, I had to put away my dream, and you got to just drop your responsibilities toward our family and chase after your dream.”
She was about to scream her frustration, but he held up his hand.
“But I was wrong. You were never irresponsible about it. And if not for you, I would never have gotten to do what I loved. I would have died without knowing what creating sound at that scale felt like. What making a hundred thousand people lose their minds over music feels like.” His eyes were on fire. Eyes that had been restless with boredom, with what she’d seen as entitlement, burned with passion.
Great timing, as always, because she couldn’t find the passion that had burned inside her. It was gone, lost with the last shot she’d blown.
“Then why are you back?”
“Because none of it means anything without you, and Cullie, and Ma.” He was standing too close, and she hated how much comfort her body drew from his nearness. All she wanted was to step even closer. To grab his closeness with her entire body. To use this thing coded into their blood: a comfort in each other.
It had taken leaving for him to see that.
“So you found all this passion, and now you want to give it up and come back because you miss us?”
“I’m not giving it up, but I would. There’s a company here who sets up concerts with Indian artists. DesiBeats. They need a sound engineer to run their concerts. I’ve been interviewing with them. I just got the job. I’ll have to travel to where the concerts are, all across the US and maybe Europe. But I can be here and do what I want to do. I’m serious. I want to do better by you, by us.”
Laughter spurted up from the very center of her. She couldn’t stop laughing. Could it really be this easy? Bitter, jealous rage burned through her. “You want to do better now? You walked away. You ended us. And you were right. About everything. About me just not having it in me.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “Aly, sweetheart, what happened? Is it the Meryl interview? Did something happen with the segment?”
All the rage and the sadness inside her bloated and rolled. The shaking started deep inside her. “It’s gone. You were right. I was never going to get my own segment. It was never about whether or not I’m capable of it. It was about timing, about wanting it before the world was ready to let me have it.”
“Oh, Aly.” He stroked her back. “You’ll find a way.”
Now his voice was filled with faith? This was what he’d predicted all along. And now that he had his dream, he wanted to be benevolent?
Before she could push him away with all the force of her frustration, the elevator doors opened on a ding, and they jumped apart because Cullie stumbled out.
Alone.
She doubled over and started sobbing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BINDU
In the end it turned out that I was the trouble, and like the promise of our first meeting, she’d met me without flinching.
From the journal of Oscar Seth
There’s a sensor built into every parent. A barometer that can gauge the disasters in their children’s lives for intensity. When Bindu opened the door and saw Cullie’s face, she knew that something had seismically shifted in her granddaughter. Alisha and Ashish followed close on Cullie’s heels, their barometers already pinging with her distress.
For a moment Bindu thought Cullie would fall into her arms and break down, but she headed straight for the food Bindu had laid out on the table and picked up a plate. Without a single word, she proceeded to pile a mountain of food on it and dug right in as tears streamed down her face, liberally salting her meal.
Alisha gave Ashish a death glare and mirrored Cullie’s actions exactly, right down to the tears rolling into the food.
“Shouldn’t we wait for our guest?” Bindu said.
Cullie huffed out a laugh. The completely uncharacteristic chortles went on and on, until finally the words “He’s gone” flew from her.
“Can you give us a little more than that?” Bindu asked. If Cullie’s tears had sent the barometer into overdrive, the laughter made it crash past its limit. Bindu sat down next to Cullie.