The Vibrant Years(93)
“What other celebrities are you hiding in your closet?” Cullie asked.
“I mean, you could google it,” Rishi said and then grinned at her with that incredibly hot knowing look he always got when they shared a reference. “But if you must know, Auntie Judi considers me her adoptive grandson.”
“You’re not talking about Dame Judi Dench?” Mom squealed.
Rishi blushed. “They always stay with us when they visit Mumbai. They’ve both done films with Dada and were dear friends of his.”
“Holy shit,” Dad said. “Mom, you’ve done a film with the man who’s made films with Judi Dench and Meryl Streep, on top of every Indian actor of any repute. How are you not out there screaming from rooftops about this?” Especially now that Dad’s parentage wasn’t in question.
Binji hadn’t been herself since the thing with Rishi’s dada had come to light, but she visibly wilted at Dad’s words.
She was still refusing to watch the film she’d done at seventeen. A film Oscar Seth had considered his greatest work. Rishi had described Binji’s film as one of the most beautiful pieces of cinema he’d ever experienced. To be fair, he generally talked about movies in hyperbole, all his Bollywood effusiveness peaking on this thing he lived and breathed for. Even so, Binji’s film was obviously special to him. He’d spent years restoring it and bringing it back to life, and any mention of it tended to move him to tears.
Poornima was the story of a queen being forced to sleep with a stranger for an heir because her king was impotent.
Exactly the kind of thing Cullie would have expected Binji to be proud of. But no, she wouldn’t even talk about it. Evidently, this thing with Rishi’s grandfather had been something intense. It wasn’t every day that an artist destroyed his own work for you and then spent decades trying to restore it. It was the most romantic darned thing Cullie had ever heard. Being embarrassed by it—because obviously she was—was the most un-Binji move ever.
Lee stroked Binji’s back, but it seemed to do nothing to soothe her. “I’m not screaming from rooftops because instead of an acting career, I chose to have a family,” she said, a tremble escaping into her voice.
The mood in the room shifted. Silence stretched.
“You all carry on. I need some fresh air.” Binji went to the door, and everyone stood. “I just need a moment. Please don’t let this spoil the wonderful evening we’ve had.”
“I’ll go with you,” Lee said.
“No. Please.” With that she left.
Cullie tried to follow her, but Mom stopped her. “I’ll go.” And her expression said that she wasn’t in the mood to argue the point.
CHAPTER THIRTY
ALY
If I could have a dying wish: I want people to see Poornima. To know the helplessness and the power that love presents to each of us. In equal parts. And the part we let win is who we really are.
From the journal of Oscar Seth
Aly found Bindu pacing in the garden behind her building.
When she saw Aly, she stiffened. “I guess I would have followed you too if it had been you who left,” she said grudgingly.
“It’s true.” Aly smiled. “And I’m glad it’s true.”
For a while they just walked around the huge artificial pond edged with perfectly trimmed grass. Landscape beds with clusters of birds of paradise and other exotic native and nonnative flowers broke up the rolling lawn. If plants could scream wealth, these did. They were the greener other side, and they knew it. Even the lights lining the walking path were elegantly concealed to create atmosphere as they went over gentle bridges with curvy railings.
Vibrant years, indeed. A gift for having lived well, or at least for having lived successfully.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Bindu was the first to speak.
Aly made a sound of agreement. “I can see why you like it so much here.”
Bindu threw her a sideways glance without stopping. “I loved living with you, you know that, right?”
“I do.”
“My moving here . . . it had nothing to do with that fight we had.”
The fight where Aly had said something about Bindu’s leaving teacups around as a statement, and Bindu had said, Why do you have to overcomplicate everything. My son is right about that.
Aly had been completely thrown. Hitting below the belt was not Bindu’s style.
Thanks, Ma! Good to know you agree with your son’s criticisms. Not surprising that you do. Aly had no idea where that had come from.
What is that supposed to mean?
It’s not that complicated. Actually, it’s only complicated if you don’t want to see the truth. Another thing Ashish learned from you.
Bindu had gasped, and Aly had quickly apologized. They’d both backed away from the fight, a shared panic making them fearful of losing a relationship that had been a strength to them both. But then Bindu had gone to the open house.
They’d never brought the fight up again.
Until now.
Maybe it was time.
“I know,” Aly said. “Cullie’s right, your moving here had to do with FOMO.”
They grinned with their joint love for their girl, who always saw things so clearly. The way she’d broken out of her comfort zone without changing herself made Aly so damn proud.