“Rajiv tried so hard to bring her back,” Sharmila Foi continues, “but she did not want to be a part of our lives. I don’t know what type of reception you’ll receive if you do find her.”
Sophie has thought through this already and knows her foi is looking out for her, but she cannot continue her life without knowing these answers. Her entire life was built on these lies, and now she doesn’t know who she is meant to be. It explains why Sophie had to do the prayers for Nita’s annual passing ceremonies with her fois instead of Papa. It had all been such an elaborate farce. The prayers had been done to protect Sophie from the truth, but it seemed Papa was never able to participate in the tangible parts of the charade.
“I know, but I need to see her.”
“How will you find her? Shall Vaishali and I come to you? That way, we know you are safe.”
Sophie hadn’t expected her to offer to help. She’d certainly not expected her to offer to come to France! Like Sophie, her fois and their children had never left India. It was only Rajiv who’d had business outside of the country and had traveled beyond its borders. While she is grateful for the bond of her family, often dysfunctional as it is, she knows she must do this alone.
“I will be okay, Foi. All my life you have looked after me when Papa wasn’t there. I need to start looking after myself.”
“What about Kiran? What will we tell his family?” she asks.
Even though Sophie knows her foi is trying to secure a stable future for Sophie, she cannot fathom marrying this man who is a stranger to her. It is the furthest thing from her mind. She wrings her hands as she thinks about how to deliver this news.
“I don’t know what is best. I know you worked hard on this, but I cannot be married next week. Maybe not even next year. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it would not be fair to Kiran and his family. I don’t know what I could offer as a wife right now.”
“We don’t need to make any hasty decisions,” Sharmila Foi says. “I will tell them you had to go on a trip. When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure. But I hope not too long.” She thinks about her lack of funds and knows she will run out of money if she doesn’t find Nita soon, but she cannot ask her foi for help after the stress she has already caused. She’d have to explain how she’d been robbed by that nasty pair upon her arrival, and that would cause so much worry to her fois. She will find a way to make do for the few days or week it might take her to track down Nita.
“How can we contact you? Your mobile doesn’t work. It goes straight to the voice mail.”
There is no point in saying that her mobile has also been taken. All these details would cause stress, and her decision is made.
“I’m staying at a hotel.” She gives them the information for Le Canard Volant to use in case of an emergency, although given that Papa is already dead, Sophie cannot imagine what such an emergency might be.
Sophie hangs up the phone, feeling better that her relatives know where she is and that she is safe. She hadn’t meant to worry them, but she’d felt so abandoned and alone when she’d learned the entire family had conspired to keep the truth from her. She could not think past getting herself on a flight to Paris and the dream that she would reunite with Nita and all her problems would disappear. She’d been looking for someone to take the place of Papa when it came to sheltering and protecting her, and who better to take on that role than her mummy?
20
NITA
1998
“You seem distracted,” Mathieu said breathily the next day as he raised his head from between her thighs and slid up her body, grazing her bare stomach and then her breasts, until he had propped his head just over her face. His eyes searched hers. “You are bored already?”
Nita averted her gaze.
“Non, mon cher. Juste fatiguée.” Just tired, she said, even though she knew that wasn’t it at all.
She couldn’t tell him that she couldn’t focus on the pleasure because all she could think about was her sick daughter. Somehow that innocent girl is paying for my mistakes, Nita thought, worrying that her bad karma had been transferred to Sophie somehow. It wasn’t fair. Especially as Nita lay in this bed with a man who wasn’t her husband. She could no longer even keep track of the number of her sins.
“C’est tout?” That’s all? he asked with a devilish grin. “I will make you not tired again.”
He slipped his finger inside of her—hard—sending a jolt through her that he probably intended as pleasure but that resonated through her body as pain. She stared into his eyes, trying to be present. She hid her grimace as he pushed deeper. She tried to let herself relax so that the pain would turn into the pleasure she was used to feeling with him. She had faked joy in this intimate position many times, but only with Rajiv, who had never been this forceful. He had always been courteous toward her, even during their acts of intimacy, and never pushed her or tested any limits. But with him there had never been the same passion she felt with Mathieu, and perhaps with passion there was pain.
She tried to make her body rock in time with Mathieu’s as he climbed on top of her, his breathing and rhythm quickening until he was spent. He stroked her hair and smiled at her wistfully, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. She smiled back even though she had never felt so ashamed. Between her marriage and whatever this new relationship with Mathieu was, she’d become accustomed to hiding herself.
When he rolled over and began to prepare a joint for them to share, she was relieved. She just wanted to forget. Forget Rajiv. Forget India. Forget Sophie . . .
Although Nita tried to forget, the more she painted, the more Sophie wove her way into Nita’s art. She began painting her daughter’s face whenever she picked up a brush. When Mathieu commented that the faces in her work resembled each other, she waved him off, pretending she hadn’t noticed. She painted a girl with laughter in her eyes and without a care in the world. A girl who didn’t suffer from tuberculosis. It was the only way she wanted to see her daughter.
The drugs made it easier for her to escape her thoughts. It had started off with the cigarettes and then hashish, but then Mathieu brought home some pills that Simon had given him. The first one had made her head spin in the best way, fitting since Mathieu said it was called ecstasy. She would forget everything for hours, and when she woke up, she would crave that feeling again. What had started off as an occasional indulgence had turned into something she and Mathieu engaged in several nights a week. Mathieu would often paint in the middle of the night, when the pills’ magic was at its peak. Even Nita could see that his work had improved. The pills allowed him to focus and unlocked the depths of his creativity. She hoped they would do the same for her, so she would try and paint alongside him. It was only when she woke up groggy after the pills had worn off that she realized that even though she had felt like she was able to forget, her painting from the night before was inevitably of a child with Sophie’s face.
21
SOPHIE
2019
After hanging up with her foi, Sophie returns to Taj Palace. It is now empty, and Naresh raises his eyebrows, looking surprised to see her return.
“Did you forget something?” he asks, moving toward the front door from the kitchen pass.