The Bandit Queens (51)

“Me, too. You don’t believe the rumors about me, but I didn’t return the favor.”

He thrust out his hand. “Friends?”

She held up her painted palms. “But yes, friends.”

“Oh, did you go to a party today?”

“Yeah, Saloni’s.”

“That’s great.”

“Is it?”

“Sure. People can always use more friends.”

“But,” she said, “the problem with friends is that they ask favors.”

Karem shrugged. “One should always help a friend if they can.”

“Even if what they’re asking isn’t good? I mean, isn’t right?”

Karem’s lips rolled inward as he thought. “I guess intentions are what matter. Sometimes to do the right thing, you have to do the wrong one first.” He held up one finger. “?‘If you can’t get the butter with a straight finger…’?”

Geeta smiled as he hooked his index finger. “?‘…then use a crooked one.’?”

Their truce was a new and precious thing. She said good night before she could poison it. Above her, the moon was fat and swollen, and the way home was easy. As she walked, she rubbed her palms, dried henna flakes leaving a trail behind her. It was true that she had a host of problems currently squatting on her head: Samir’s death, Farah’s threats, and Preity’s demands. But Karem didn’t hate her, and that left her a bit lighter.

When Geeta approached her home, Saloni was pacing in front of it. No, not pacing. Marching. Ample elbows at right angles, pumping them as her knees rose considerably higher than Geeta assumed a sari permitted. Saloni spotted Geeta, but continued.

“Hi,” Saloni said, pivoting. She was a bit breathless. “Just getting some exercise while I waited. Couple more, hold on.”

Geeta’d had more visitors in the past month than she’d had in the five years prior. “What’re you doing here? What about your party?”

“Oh, it’s done. We ate and then the power was cut and everyone got sleepy. You forgot your gift pot.”

“Huh?”

“All my guests get a bunch of, you know, goodies. Like bangles and candies and stuff. You forgot yours.”

Geeta then saw the clay pot on her doorstep, next to Bandit’s empty water bowl. Saloni marched onward. “Okay, stop. I’m getting dizzy. Did you want to come in?”

Saloni hesitated. “I should head back.”

“Right.” Geeta felt foolish for opening herself to certain rejection in the first place. But the clay pot had seemed like an excuse and she’d responded in kind. She picked it up. Saloni had painted it red, with yellow swastikas.

“Well”—Saloni blew out her breath, disturbing a stray strand of hair—“some water wouldn’t kill me.”

As Geeta unlocked her door, Bandit ran down the lane toward them. When Arhaan had summoned her, she’d left Bandit outside, which had been wise considering how long she’d been gone. Though a solar light had been installed in their alley, Geeta could have recognized the outline of his large ears by the abundant moonlight alone. She bent to scratch his striped ear, and he licked her wrist. “Did you have fun today?”

Her body rearing back, Saloni asked, “Is—uh—he coming in?”

“Bandit? He can stay out, but actually…let’s see.” She pushed open the door for Saloni, who went ahead. Bandit aimed to follow, but Geeta stopped him. “Bandit,” she said, pointing at Saloni. “Attack!”

“Geeta! No! What—oh, he’s—ah, he, er, does that a lot.” Saloni actually blushed, turning in embarrassment from Bandit’s obscene self-ministrations.

“Yeah, I think he thinks ‘attack’ means molesting himself.”

“And why do you keep trying to get your dog to attack me?”

“Practice.” Geeta flicked on the light, but it remained dark. She used the lantern to bring Saloni a steel cup of water, which she gulped in one go. “I’m trying to train him. For protection.”

“From Farah?”

“Yeah.”

They considered Bandit, hind legs spread, thoroughly absorbed with his genitals. “I’d get a backup plan if I were you.”

“You were my backup plan, gadhedi! Only instead of fixing my one problem, you broke my head with more!” Glaring, Geeta refilled the cup, which went down much like the first. “Can I ask—why the exercise?”

Saloni cocked her head and hip. “Oh, come on. Don’t make me say it. You were more than happy to last night.”

“I’m sorry I called you fat. That was out of line.” Geeta brought her a third cup of water. Saloni sipped this time.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. Nothing my motherin-law doesn’t say all the time. ‘Saloni, you’ve gotten wider, no?’ And I wanna be like ‘Mummyji, you’ve gotten uglier, no?’?” She let out an aggravated grunt. “So where’ve you been?”

“Hmm?”

“You left my place ages ago and you’re just now getting home.”

“Oh. Some kids were fighting so I broke it up. Told them I’d tell their mothers.”

Saloni nodded her approval. “Aunty law. So who were the brats?” She straightened. “It wasn’t my Arhaan, was it? No, that boy’s too obsessed with finding snacks to fight.” She snapped her fingers. “Farah’s girl? I swear she’s always brawling. Little mukkabaaz. She was probably born with her fists up.”