Smita dismissed the last of her reservations. The truth was, she would have asked for the same favor if the roles were reversed. And Shannon would have helped her without the slightest bit of resentment or complaint. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “I’ll call Anjali today and figure out when to leave. I’d like to be here for the surgery if I could.”
“There’s no need. Mohan will help . . .”
“That’s a good idea.” Nandini was nodding vigorously. “We must be here for the operation.”
“There’s no need,” Shannon repeated. “You need to assist Smita.”
They talked for another fifteen minutes, and then Shannon shut her eyes. After a few minutes, she gave a loud snort, then began to snore softly.
Smita turned toward Mohan. “How long will she be out?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Out?”
“I . . . sorry. I mean, how long does she sleep after these pills?”
“Oh. I understand. Hopefully, for three or four hours. But often, the pain wakes her up sooner.”
“Okay.” She looked around the room, wanting to talk to him privately. “Do you think—is there someplace I can get some coffee?”
“Yes, of course,” he said immediately. “Shall I go and—？”
“I’ll go with you,” she said, getting up before he could react. She turned to Nandini. “What shall we bring for you?”
“Nothing, thank you. I am fine.”
“Are you sure? You must be so tired.”
“I am fine.”
“Okay.”
“You mustn’t be angry at Nandini,” Mohan said as soon as they left the room. “She’s just very worried about Shannon. Feels responsible.”
“Why should she? It was an accident.”
He shrugged. “She’s a girl from a lower middle-class family. The first in her family to go to college. And she works with this American woman who is good to her and makes her feel valued. And she makes good money working for a Western newspaper. You can see why she feels loyal.”
“How long have you known Shannon?”
“About two years.”
“You’re a good friend,” Smita said as they waited for the elevator. “Helping her like this.”
“So are you. Interrupting your vacation to come back to your homeland to help her.”
“My homeland?”
“Yes, of course. You said you were born here, correct?”
“Yeah, but . . . I mean, I was a teen when we left.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think of India that way.”
“How do you think of it?”
What was with this guy, being so prickly? “I . . . I don’t,” she said at last. “Think about it that much. I don’t mean to be rude.”
Mohan nodded. After a moment, he said, “You know, I had this friend in college. He went to London for a month during summer vacation. One month. And when he came back, suddenly he was talking with a British accent, like a gora.”
The elevator doors opened, and they got in. Smita waited for Mohan to say more, but he had fallen silent. “What’s that got to do with me?” she asked at last.
“I hate this inferiority complex so many of our—my—people have. Everything about the West is best.”
She waited until they were out of the elevator, aware of a young guy riding with them eavesdropping on their conversation. In the lobby, she said, “Listen, I hear you. But I’ve lived in the US for twenty years. I’m an American citizen.”
Mohan stopped walking and looked down at her. After a beat, he shrugged. “Sorry, yaar,” he said. “I don’t know how we got on this stupid subject. Chalo, let’s get you your coffee. The cafeteria is right this way.”
Smita had a feeling that she’d somehow slipped a notch in his esteem. Fuck him, she thought. He’s just some kind of a nationalist.
“I left without breakfast this morning,” Mohan said. “Will you take something? Other than coffee?”
“I ate a big meal at the hotel. But you go ahead.”
Mohan ordered a masala dosa. Smita resisted the urge to order a fresh juice, settling for a coffee. “I used to love sweet lime juice,” she said.
“So get one, yaar,” he said immediately.
“I’m afraid it may upset my tummy.”
“Your American tummy.” But he said it with a smile in his voice.
His dosa arrived, and Mohan tore off a piece of the crepe and held it out to her. “Take it. Arre, take it, yaar. Nothing is going to happen. And if you do have an upset stomach, look around. You’re in a hospital.”