Arranged Marriage: Stories by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni Page A

me.
    Though I had no doubts about that issue, I agreed. It was the best way of keeping Krishna with me legally until the adoption could be arranged.
    Surprisingly, Richard too liked the idea. I suspected that deep down he was hoping that the novelty of having a child in the house would wear out for me long before the adoption papers came through. I knew better, of course, but I didn’t want to argue. Richard had been making a real effort to be nice. When I finally invited him over to meet Krishna (I was still reluctant, but I figured I had to do it some time), he’d brought him a baseball and a catcher’s mitt. When Krishna refused to come out from behind the curtain where he’d hidden himself at the first sound of a male voice, he said he understood. He even offered to take him to the park to practice “once we get a bit more used to each other.” I appreciated that. It didn’t make me change the pictures in my head, which were still just of me and Krishna, but I started going out with Richard again.
    “Well, Ms. Bose”—Ms. Mayhew was looking up with a smile—”your papers look good so far. The recommendation letters are all very positive, your fingerprints indicate you’velived a crime-free life, and I see from the social worker’s home visit that you’ve child-proofed your apartment as required and are changing the study into an extra bedroom. Just one more week of the parenting class you’re attending, and you’ll be ready to be a foster mother. So now it’s time for us to discuss further the kind of child you want to take in.”
    This part was going to be tricky. I had to say it just right.
    “In your papers,” Ms. Mayhew continued, “you mentioned that you wanted a boy of about seven or eight—which is a good idea since you have a full-time job. But you didn’t mention ethnicity—or doesn’t it matter?”
    “Actually, you don’t need to look for a child for me. I have one in mind already.”
    Ms. Mayhew’s brows drew together. I’d deviated from regulations. “Where is he staying now? With relatives?”
    I swallowed. “He’s staying with me.”
    “And are you related to him?”
    “No.” Seeing the look on her face, I hurried to explain Krishna’s situation. “I knew I probably should have turned him in,” I ended, “but he was so small and so scared….” Even to my own ears, my reasoning sounded weak and sentimental.
    “Where was he when the social worker came to check your apartment?”
    “With friends,” I said guiltily. I’d deposited him at Sharmila’s early that morning, not wanting to take a chance.
    Ms. Mayhew was shaking her head. “What you’ve done is quite illegal, Ms. Bose, even though your motives may have been altruistic. I’m afraid we must ask you to bring the childin at once. We need to make every effort to locate his parents….”
    I wanted to tell her about the burns, but I didn’t. Later , I thought. It would be my weapon if she really did find them.
    “If they can’t be located, we’ll try to place him with you once you become a registered foster parent. But for now he must stay with someone else.”
    “It’s just a week.” I leaned forward, gripping the edge of her desk. “Can’t you make an exception, please, just for one week? He’s doing so well with me. He’ll be terrified if he’s moved to a strange place….”
    “I’m sorry. I have to follow certain rules, and this is a very important one. Actually, what you’ve done is quite serious. It could even prevent you from becoming a foster parent.”
    The edges of the room turned black.
    “But I’ll put a note into your file saying that you acted out of ignorance and in good faith,” said Ms. Mayhew, not unkindly. “That’s the best I can do.”
    I knew it was no use arguing any further. I answered the questions she asked me about Krishna’s background the best I could, and then I said, “I’ll bring him in tomorrow.” I looked at her and added, “Please?”
    For a moment I