“Right.” Nita took a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts of her own family aside.
“I take it you’re still shacking up with our favorite Frenchie?” Dao studied Nita’s face through her heavily lined eyes.
Nita had not told her about Mathieu’s cheating or her affair with Simon. By the time Dao had returned from London, things were back to the status quo, so there didn’t seem much point in poisoning her mind about Mathieu any further. Or in having Dao think as little of Nita as Nita currently thought of herself.
“Yes, still in the same apartment.” Nita put her mug on its saucer. She traced the outside of the saucer with her finger, trying to figure out what to tell her friend.
Dao, who could easily fill silence with chatter, was being unusually quiet.
Nita knew she needed to just say the words, so she leaned over and touched her friend’s arm. “I’m pregnant.”
Dao’s eyes did not leave Nita’s face as she put down her mug as well. “You’re sure? You went to a doctor and everything?”
“I haven’t been to a doctor, but I’m sure.”
She was sure because she’d been pregnant before. She knew the subtle shifts in her body that only she would notice: the tenderness of her nipples, which became irritated from wearing her bra; the light-headedness she felt after climbing the stairs to their apartment; the loss of appetite followed by an intense craving for spicy or sweet. Pregnancy was an unmistakable feeling, and she just knew.
“You can’t be sure until you see a doctor. For all we know, you could be suffering from stress or indigestion or whatever. We’ve got to take you to a doctor.”
“Dao, a doctor will tell me what I already know. It won’t fix this. I told you because I need a friend to help me through this.”
Nita could see Dao processing and holding back words that were desperate to leap from her lips. In Dao’s expression, Nita saw that she understood that this was bigger than their usual unfiltered conversations.
“You haven’t told Mathieu, have you?”
Nita shook her head.
“But you will?”
Nita nodded. “I must.” To herself she added, Or maybe I should be telling Simon.
Dao’s next sentence came out very measured. “He, uh, seems like he will, er, be a good father, right?”
Nita laughed at the lack of confidence in her friend’s statement. “I know he wants to be a father, so maybe that is enough.”
“Do you want to be a mother?”
Nita thought about her life leading up to now and answered in the most honest way she could. “I didn’t grow up dreaming of being a wife and mother.”
Dao leaned toward her and said softly, “Well, then maybe you should consider other options. You don’t have to be a mother.”
Nita would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it. In some ways, it would be best for everyone, probably even the baby. But another part of her knew she couldn’t. When she was pregnant with Sophie, it had been through obligation. She had known she was meant to have Rajiv’s children, but it wasn’t her dream, and she hadn’t relished the task. But when she held Sophie in her arms and smelled her skin for the first time and felt the soft wisps of hair, something had changed in her. As she watched her start to grow up, Nita had grown to love her in her own way. Her time away from Sophie had taught her how much she loved that child and how much sacrifice was required to be a parent. Even though Nita had been a far from ideal mother, she couldn’t imagine a world without Sophie in it, which was why she couldn’t give up this child.
“I don’t have that choice,” she said.
Dao squeezed her arm. “I understand. And I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
Nita fell into her friend’s arms and let herself feel the warmth of the embrace. The words “I’m here for you” had a power in them that was greater than any other, even the phrase “I love you.” “I’m here for you” showed solidarity and acceptance and conveyed in the best way possible that one was not alone. Nita had felt alone in some way for most of her life, and her heart swelled at Dao’s support for whatever decision Nita made. She was going to be a mother again, and, in this moment, all she needed was for someone to hold her and comfort her as if she were a child.
A little over a week later, on April 8, Nita found herself again thinking about Rajiv’s letter. It was their anniversary, and she knew he was in Paris somewhere and would be at the Eiffel Tower that evening at five, just as he had said he would. He was always punctual. Several days earlier, she and Dao had gone to a clinic to confirm her pregnancy. She had not told Mathieu, and she wondered if it was because she had not yet made up her mind about Rajiv.
She told herself there was no point in going there. What could possibly be gained? It was not as though she could return to her old life and pretend none of the past eight months in Paris had ever existed. Especially now.
Still, as the sun began to creep down from the sky, her feet led her toward the Eiffel Tower. There was a chill in the air, and she tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat as she walked along the Seine on the north side of the river. Her hair was safely tucked into her beret to keep it from swirling around her face. She could see the Eiffel Tower to her left, looming larger as she moved from the second arrondissement to the first. She crossed to the south side of the river using the bridge near the Musée d’Orsay. Her pace slowed as the iconic landmark grew larger. As she neared the metal structure, the crowds of tourists enveloped her. The most popular place in Paris was the easiest one to disappear in. She knew she could go there without being seen.
It was also the part of Paris that reminded her most of Ahmedabad. The throngs of people milling around and hawkers selling cheap novelty items, like Eiffel Tower magnets and coffee mugs, from wooden crates suspended around their necks reminded her of the chaos of India. The people yelling “Souvenirs” and haggling with tourists made her think of nights she had spent in the Law Garden in Ahmedabad, a bustling outdoor market with street vendors and small stalls set up along the perimeter. There, too, people were selling knickknacks and harassing passersby to unload some rupees on a shawl or brass trinket. Rajiv had never liked the Law Garden because he preferred to avoid noisy crowds, and she suspected he felt the same way about the scene at the base of the Eiffel Tower.
Nita walked slowly down Avenue Gustave Eiffel, careful to look inconspicuous. She stopped behind a guided tour group, the leader explaining the history of the landmark in German. She peered between people, trying to see if she could spot Rajiv. It was only four forty-five, but she knew he would be there already. Not seeing him, she ducked through the tour group and moved a bit closer, now standing behind a crêpe cart with a long line of people. She heard the sizzle of the batter hitting the hot plates before the vendor deftly spread it into a perfect circle using a T-shaped wooden spatula. She inhaled the smells of sweet chocolate-hazelnut spread and caramelized sugar and lemon. She peered around the cart and scanned the crowd ahead, seeing many families and couples posing for photographs they would cherish for years to come. She did not see Rajiv and feared something had happened to him. It was the only reason a man like him would miss such an appointment. Her thoughts cascaded toward him being in a car accident or something happening to his plane and Sophie being left without a parent. His two sisters would then be left with the job of raising Sophie, and they had never been overly kind to Nita. She worried they would not treat Nita’s daughter as their own. She’d have to return if that were the case. Leaving Sophie with her loving papa had been difficult enough, but leaving her in the care of anyone else was unthinkable. Nita would have to do what she and Dao had discussed with her pregnancy. She could not have a second child and show up in India again.