If Today Be Sweet by Thrity Umrigar Page B

first place. I’ll be real glad when that woman moves out of Antonio’s home.”
    Tehmina suddenly thought of Percy, Sorab’s best friend, whom she and Rustom had virtually raised after Percy’s mother had died when he was a boy. Sorab and all the others in their group teased Percy for his multiple marriages and Tehmina herself was shockedand saddened by how often the boy traded wives. But one thing about Percy, she now thought. America has not changed him the way it has the others. She had heard the outrage in Percy’s voice when he had described an immigration case where a political refugee had run up against the cold heartlessness of the government. She had heard him discuss passionately the injustices that his clients faced as a result of laws put in place after the horror of 9/11. Somehow, Percy’s world seemed larger and more real than Sorab’s narrowly defined world of home, family, and office.
    She had offended her own sense of maternal loyalty with this last thought. That’s not fair, she argued with herself. It’s Percy’s job that forces him to have to deal with the outside world. Whereas my Sorab—working for a large advertising and consulting agency—his job is by definition limited to the concerns of his clients. Why should he worry about immigration and such? And it’s not as if he’s not generous. Tehmina knew that Sorab had written a check for $500 when the tsunami hit. And when she was in Bombay, Sorab was forever telling her to let him know if there were any deserving cases that needed help. Four years ago, he and Susan and the other local Parsis had arranged for Dina Madan’s infant daughter to come to the Cleveland Clinic for the heart surgery that had saved her life. Dina had even brought little Malika to Rustom’s funeral and had the child shake hands with Sorab. “Here’s the man who saved your life, deekra,” she’d said to the little girl. “He is a great man, just as his daddy was.”
    â€œGranna, are you going to lie down with me or not?” Cookie’s plaintive voice brought her back into the present. She looked at the sweet face, so much like Sorab’s despite the fair skin and light brown hair. If I had not met Rustom, you would not have been born, she marveled, and despite its banality, she felt her heart warm at the thought.
    â€œYou can call me Cavas, if you like,” Cookie repeated. “But just for tonight.” She forced herself to look sufficiently impressed by his magnanimous offer. “All right, Cavas,” she said, getting under the covers with him. “I’ll lie with you for a few minutes. But no talking, you hear? Good night.”
    They were silent for a second. Then Cookie said, “Did you know my mom when she was little?”
    â€œNo, Cookie, of course not. She lived here in America, whereas we—we lived in India.”
    The boy looked lost in thought for a minute. Then he shrugged. “I thought so.”
    â€œWhat made you think that?”
    He shrugged again and Tehmina had to be satisfied with that. “Do you remember Bombay at all?” she asked. She knew that she was risking Cavas being fully awake again, but she couldn’t help herself. Getting Cavas to acknowledge his love for India was like a pimple she kept prodding at with her fingernail. How foolish you are, she scolded herself. The boy was only three when he came to India. Of course he doesn’t remember.
    â€œI remember Grandpa,” the boy replied. “He took me to his office one day. There was a big picture of me and Mom and Dad on his wall.”
    Tehmina blinked her tears away. That photograph now sat on top of her TV in her apartment in Bombay. She decided against telling Cookie that.
    â€œGrandpa was fun, ” Cookie said. Tehmina knew immediately what the child was too kind to say— and you’re not . Did she imagine the hint of accusation she heard