The Vibrant Years(83)

He stiffened, arms resting on the railing, the ocean breeze swirling a storm in his hair. “Did you know I used to dream that he wasn’t my father?” he said, eyes trained on the waves. “I used to wish that I would wake up one day and he’d be someone else.”

She wanted to pull him close, but she was afraid to touch him. Her beautiful, sensitive boy, whom Rajendra had tried so hard to “make a man of.”

Cullie and Alisha stepped out into the lanai. Alisha looked guarded. Cullie looked like she might be sick.

“I don’t know how to make this okay,” Bindu said. “I wish he’d been different with you too. I wish I’d known how to make that happen.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “I always wondered why you never said anything to him.” Finally, he turned around. “But you were protecting me.”

She didn’t know what she’d expected to see in his face. Anger? Hatred? Sadness? But he was shaking his head, that bitter laugh spilling incredulously from him.

“Dad, are you laughing?” Cullie said, sounding as worried as Bindu felt.

“Ashish, you’re scaring me,” Bindu said.

He came to her then and took her hands. “Ma, he knew. Baba knew.”

“No, he didn’t. All he knew was that I acted in Oscar’s film.”

“No, I mean he knew you had the affair. He suspected that I might not be his son.”

Cullie pressed both hands into her face, then pulled them away angrily. Hearing so plainly what this might mean about Rishi’s relationship to their family, to her, had to be devastating.

Alisha looked in horror from one face to another.

Ashish’s gaze stayed steady on Bindu. He seemed to be reliving something, brows drawn together in focus, eyes filled with memories. “If I hadn’t wished so hard for a different father, I might not even have remembered this. But I’m his son, Ma,” he whispered. “I’m Baba’s son. And he knew that too.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Bindu said.

Ashish’s eyes softened, filled with sympathy. “I can’t believe he never told you. Never put your mind at ease. He was such a piece of work.”

“Dad, please,” Cullie said wildly, reflecting Bindu’s desperation. “What are you trying to say?”

Ashish pushed Bindu gently into the rattan couch, as though she’d suddenly turned fragile. Then he sat down next to her. “When I was in fifth grade, he had a paternity test done.”

That couldn’t be true.

Could it?

“It was summer vacation. My friends and I had broken the neighbor’s window while playing cricket. So I was terrified when Baba came into my room before he left for work. But he didn’t even mention the window.” Ashish’s eyes were bright with the effort to access the memories. “He told me to pick up the mail that day while he was at work and put it where you wouldn’t find it. He told me not to tell you. Which only made me curious. I saw the UK stamp on the envelope and steamed it open and then glued it back before giving it to him.”

Shock choked Bindu, constricted her throat.

No one else seemed able to speak either.

Finally Ashish spoke again. “It was a long report with lots of tables that didn’t make any sense to me. But there was a letter addressed to him. It actually said the words Paternity Test and Probability of Paternity 99 percent. Both our names were on it. That evening I remember him squeezing my shoulders. The closest he ever came to giving me a hug. It was all very confusing. Then that night I saw him shred the letter. I didn’t think much of it because I didn’t understand it. Everything about him was always secretive and withheld, so I forgot about it.”

Except, of course, who could forget the only hug he’d ever gotten from his father?

“I still can’t believe he never told you.”

But how could Rajendra have told her? That would have meant acknowledging he didn’t trust her. It would have meant admitting he never believed that she didn’t sleep with Oscar: the only lie she’d ever told him.

“But why did he wait until you were in fifth grade?” Bindu asked the most meaningless question, because she’d never have answers for the ones that mattered.

Alisha tapped her phone. “Paternity tests became available in 1985.” When Ashish was in fifth grade.

“He’d been waiting for proof that I was his son,” Ashish said with an odd calm. “Not that it changed anything. It’s not like he got all warm and fuzzy overnight or anything.”

Rajendra hadn’t had a warm or fuzzy cell in his body. She’d never understood if it was a matter of ability or choice. Unlike Ashish, whose warmth was irresistible to everyone who met him. Bindu cupped her son’s face. “All I wanted was for none of this to hurt you. Can you forgive me?”

His eyes were wet, but something fierce shone in them. “Do you know why it didn’t matter that Baba was the way he was? Because you never let me feel unloved even for a moment. You were seventeen, Ma. You were an incredible mother. We’ll find our way around this.”

A giant sniff came from Alisha. The way she was looking at Ashish was probably the only good thing that had happened here today.

Cullie’s sniff was far more heartbreaking. “Well then,” she said. “At least I’m not related to that asshole.” Her eyes were sadder than Bindu had ever seen them. There were so many assholes in play right now, but Bindu was pretty sure she knew which one Cullie meant. Rishi Seth may not be related to Cullie, but he’d obviously found his way past her defenses.