The Story Hour by Thrity Umrigar

snapped her fingers. “Lakshmi. Look at me. Look at me. You’re not crazy. Okay? Whoever this Rekha is, she’s wrong.”
    â€œRekha work in store—”
    â€œYeah, well. She’s wrong. You are here because we’re trying to understand why you’re unhappy enough to think your own life is worthless. And to figure out how we can make some changes to help you feel better about yourself. But in order to do so, I need you to talk to me. To trust me. Anything you tell me stays here. That means I don’t tell your husband or Rekha or anyone else. That’s a promise. Do you understand?”
    Lakshmi looked at her for the longest time, her eyes wide and wet. Then she nodded. “Understand.”
    â€œGood. One more thing. You don’t have to call me madam. You can call me Maggie. Think you can do that?”
    Lakshmi nodded. “Maggie.” She said the name carefully, as if it were a wooden crate filled with breakable things.
    â€œGreat. So, I want to know something. You told me once that you have no contact with your family in India. Is that right?”
    â€œYes, madam.”
    Maggie let it pass. “Why?”
    â€œHusband not liking my family. He angry at them. Maggie.”
    â€œWhy? What happened?”
    Lakshmi stared at the floor again. After a second, her nose turned red and Maggie saw that she was crying. She waited to see if Lakshmi would speak but, after a minute, knew that she wouldn’t. Besides, she could speculate as to the cause—probably a lack of dowry or something like that. It was amazing how many marriages in India got off to a bad start because of greed on the part of the groom.
    She took a different track. “Do you miss your sister? Your father?”
    Lakshmi seemed puzzled. “I not miss them, madam. Sorry. Maggie. Where they go?” She struck her chest twice. “They living inside here. How I miss them? They always close by.”
    Maggie smiled. “That’s sweet.”
    But the younger woman looked angry. “Not sweet. Truth. I talks to my Shilpa all the time.”
    â€œAnd what do you say to her?”
    â€œEverything. I tells her everything.”
    â€œDid you tell her about Bobby?”
    Lakshmi shot Maggie a sharp look and then fell silent. “No,” she said eventually. “That I not tell. Nothing to tell,” she added fiercely.
    â€œSo what do you tell her?”
    â€œMostly I asks questions. How are you, Shilpa? Did you marries your Dilip? How is his auto repairs business? How you likes living in Rawalpindi? Are you happy? Did you make me an aunt? How is our dada? Like that only I talks to her.”
    â€œYou don’t know if Shilpa is married?”
    â€œNo. I leaf for Am’rica before her shadi. But I make my dada give his blessing to her and Dilip. Their love match. Shilpa mad for him. Dilip a good boy but he from Rawalpindi. He not from our village. And he poor. So Dada not happy at first. But I talks to him and then he agree. And I gives Shilpa all my ma’s gold jewelry for her wedding. Everything I could do for her before I come, I do. Everything.”
    Maggie glanced at the clock on the wall behind Shilpa. Ten minutes to the hour. “What is Shilpa like?” she asked, and watched as Lakshmi’s face lit up.
    â€œOh, madam, she was most beautiful baby. I five year age when Shilpa born. Everybody say, ‘Lakshmi, you too small, you don’t reminder your sister.’ But they wrong. I reminder good. Ma make me sit on floor and put baby in my arms. When Shilpa little girl, I get sugarcane from field and give her. She having so little-little tooths but she chew on it. She liking sweet things from the start. And she follow me everywhere. Ma said she give birth to my shadow.”
    Lakshmi gazed out into the backyard, her eyes cloudy. “She love eating bhindi. You know bhindi? What you call it—okra? And madam, you know Vicks VapoRub? Shilpa like