A House for Happy Mothers: A Novel by Amulya Malladi

be a problem.”
    Aditi shook her head again. “Tarun doesn’t think that’s good for Dhruv.”
    “Tell him to stay at home, then,” Priya said.
    Aditi laughed. “I can’t. He makes so much more than I ever did or could. We have the life we have because of him. I drive a Lexus, Priya. I should be happy.”
    “Is that what Tarun said?”
    Aditi nodded and picked up a napkin from the patio table, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
    “None of them gets it,” Aditi said, pointing her chin to the house. “They think I hit the jackpot. Tarun has a great job, and I have the luxury of sitting at home, turning into a fucking vegetable.”
    “What are you girls talking about?” Tarun said as he walked in, a glass of scotch in his hand. “About your virile men?”
    Madhu followed Tarun and came to stand beside Priya. He immediately put his arm around her.
    “You know, you guys have been together as long as any of us have, and you’re so lovey-dovey still,” Tarun said. “The man can’t keep his hands off of you, Priya. Kya magic hai? ”
    “Maybe because they still love each other,” Aditi said.
    “I still love you, jaaneman , my life,” Tarun said, and dramatically pulled Aditi into his arms. She flinched and pushed him away.
    “You smell of whiskey,” she said.
    “Well, that’s what happens when you drink single malt, baby,” Tarun said.
    “I guess I’m driving, then,” Aditi muttered. “I’ll get Dhruv; it’s time to go home.”
    “Yes, madam,” Tarun said, and saluted. “She’s a tyrant,” he said to Madhu and Priya. “We should hook up for dinner sometime.”
    “Sure,” Priya said.
    “Wow,” Madhu said as the unhappy couple left the patio. “Do you think we’ll ever end up like them?”
    “No,” Priya said. God, I hope not.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.”
    “Time to go home?” Madhu said.
    “Sure,” Priya said.
    But they stayed for another drink while Simran’s housekeeper, a Mexican woman named Maria, cleaned up.

    They sat on the patio, the light breeze soothing. This was the best thing about living in California, Priya thought: even in February they could sit outside in nothing but a light jacket. Priya cuddled against Madhu, feeling secure in her marriage. Nothing made you feel lucky in your relationship like seeing someone else’s crappy one.
    “So, Priya, now that we have some quiet, tell us about this surrogate,” Farah said, and Priya stiffened, feeling the squeeze of Madhu’s restraining arm.
    “Surrogate?” Simran asked. “What is this, bhai ? No one tells us anything.”
    “When Athar told me, I couldn’t believe it, but considering all your problems, this is a great solution, nahi ?” Farah said. “So, this woman is in India? How much does it cost?”
    Priya didn’t look at Madhu because she wasn’t sure she could stay calm if she saw his face.
    Athar looked just as embarrassed as Madhu. “Farah, I’m sure this isn’t something they want to talk about.”
    Farah waved a hand. “ Arrey , having a baby is good news. So tell us, Priya, how does the process work?”
    Priya took a deep breath. “Like Athar said, we don’t want to talk about this. It’s still early days.”
    “So there’s a risk of losing the baby?” Latha asked.
    “No,” Madhu said immediately. “We just don’t feel comfortable talking about it.”
    “That’s the way to have a baby, though,” Farah said, stroking her big belly. “I mean, you don’t have to get fat or go through labor and delivery. Athar, we can have a cricket team if we can have the rest of the babies that way.”
    Priya wanted to scream. How dare Farah make light of this? Priya could hardly sleep. She was so scared about her baby growing up thousands of miles away in a stranger’s belly. And this woman was making a joke about it?
    Silence fell over the small crowd of people, and relief came in the form of Latha’s daughter Noma, who stepped onto the patio wailing. “JoJo hit me,” she said, rubbing her