“Okay, relax.” Shannon patted the edge of her bed. “Come sit next to me.”
“I’m okay.”
“Smits, don’t be an ass. Come here. I’m sorry,” Shannon said, pulling Smita toward her. “Listen, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that—I’ve known you for a long time. Far longer than I’ve known Mohan, obviously. And you two look so suited for each other. I’ve never seen you the way you are around him.”
“How’s that?”
“I don’t know how to describe it. You look—I dunno. Happy, for sure. But it’s more than that. You look . . . contented.”
“Oh, bullshit.” Smita said lightly. “You’re not used to seeing me with a brown dude, is all.”
Shannon mustered a perfunctory smile. “You know me better than that, Smits.” She paused. “Fuck. I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m gonna miss you, too. But I’ll see you in New York soon?”
“Not for a while. Cliff offered to fly me home and have someone take my place for a few months. But I refused. I like it here. Besides, Nan would be distraught if I took off.”
“No kidding. I think she’s, like, in love with you or something.”
“Are the two of you making fun of Nandini?” Mohan said. He was smiling as he walked toward the bedside table, carrying a large coconut, its hacked top hanging as if from a hinge. He held it against a glass and flipped it, so that the coconut water drained into the glass.
“Here you are, my dear,” he said to Shannon.
“Thanks, Mohan. You’re the best.”
“So, what trouble are you planning?” he asked.
Mohan’s playful tone reminded Smita of how he had acted around her when they’d met, before Meena had died—before they’d assumed responsibility for Abru. And before they’d made the mistake of sleeping with each other.
“Nothing,” she replied. “We’re just talking shop.”
“ ‘Talking shop,’ ” Mohan repeated. “I tell you, no one can beat you Americans when it comes to strange expressions.”
Shannon let out a yawn. “Okay, you two. You need to get going, right? I’m tired. And ready for my nap.”
Mohan glanced at the clock. “Be serious, yaar, Shannon,” he said. “It’s not even noon. How could you possibly be sleepy again?”
Smita gave Shannon a hug. “See you tomorrow?”
“That’ll be nice.”
“Ready?” Smita said, turning to Mohan.
“In a minute.” He bent to fluff Shannon’s pillow. Shannon threw Smita a bemused look. “He’ll make some lucky woman a good wife someday,” she said.
“Very funny. Okay, ciao. I have to get this one here to Zarine Auntie’s for lunch.”
“Come in, come in, come in,” Zarine Sethna said. “Please, welcome, welcome.”
“Thank you,” Smita said, suddenly shy. She stepped into a well-appointed room, filled with Chinese vases and antique furniture, and smiled at Mohan’s landlady. “Thank you for inviting me to lunch.”
“Definitely, definitely.” Zarine was a tall light-skinned woman with curly gray hair. She pushed her rimless glasses back up on her nose. “Mohan has told us so much about you.”
“Thank you.” Smita looked around. “Where’s Abru?”
“Taking her afternoon nap,” Zarine replied. She smiled. “You are worried about her? You want to see her?”
Smita nodded.
“Go take her to see the child,” Zarine said to Mohan. “Then we can eat.”
“It’s very nice of you to take all this trouble . . .”
“Arre, wah,” Zarine interrupted. “No trouble. Mohan is like my son.”
They went into Zarine’s bedroom. “She already looks plumper,” Smita whispered. “Or is it my imagination?”
“She ate three ice-cream cones yesterday, remember? You’ve been spoiling her.” He pretended to frown. “Once you leave, bas. I am putting her on a diet.”
Smita laughed, but her heart hurt at the thought of Mohan having Abru all to himself. “And Zarine Auntie is okay with the arrangement? She’ll watch her while you’re at work?” She hesitated. “If you are paying her to take care of Abru, I can send a monthly contribution?”
“Yah, right. So that Zarine Auntie and Jamshed can kill both of us. For insulting them like that.”