The Shape of Family Page 10
“What? You know, it can fit six—”
“Yes, six bushels of apples in the front compartment. You’ve told me.” She laughed again. “I’d like to know how many Porsche drivers have apple farms. Actually, you can take all the food Mom’s packing for me. I told her not to bother, but she’s afraid I’ll never eat again.”
“Well, she worries about you.” Dad tousled her hair and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her one more time. “Come on, let’s go see what your mother’s cooked up for you.”
* * *
Jaya looked in the mandir room and saw that the diya flame and incense were still alight. She couldn’t leave the house until they were finished, and she wouldn’t risk the bad luck of extinguishing them early, not today. This morning, she had woken before dawn to begin her prayers for the momentous occasion. She prayed to Saraswati, the goddess of learning, to guide her daughter’s education, and Durga, the mother goddess, to watch over her child. But Jaya found that her mind and her prayers this morning were repeatedly drawn back to Prem. The prospect of letting her firstborn go into the world reminded her inescapably of the child who had left her unnaturally four years ago.
Jaya had survived those years by developing a deep spiritual practice. She could see now that before Prem’s death, she hadn’t been living in harmony with God and the universe, challenging fate to bring her misfortune. While she’d thought her job at the Policy Institute was meaningful, it had really just been secular work: dealing with human beings and situations of their own making. The life she and Keith had created—and the persistent pursuit of money to fund that life—was a false belief, to an insignificant end. She was ashamed to realize that the home she’d created, with paint colors and furnishings she’d carefully selected, held no shrine before her mother came to visit. Western life had become so much a part of Jaya that she’d neglected the most important part of life itself. But with Prem’s death, she had a chance to realign the way she lived.
Jaya returned to her bedroom and put the last few items into her overnight bag, zipped it up and carried it down the stairs. As she descended, she saw Keith and Karina in the front foyer.
Now that she was living in accord with her spirituality, there was little friction in her daily existence. She prepared modest vegetarian meals and no longer expended energy on sensorial pleasures: she wore simple clothes, cut her hair short, wore no makeup. She hadn’t bought a lipstick in years. Jaya found solace in her mantras, her prayers, and her knowledge that her life now honored God, keeping her and those she loved safe. It was better now, for both her and Keith, though he didn’t seem to accept this truth as she did. She wished she could be free of the pull of guilt she still felt from him.
“Here.” Keith leaped up the stairs to meet her. “Let me get that.” He reached for her bag. “Thanks.” Even during the divorce, when they were drawing a line through their life, separating their belongings, their friends and their memories, Keith had remained decent toward her, more heartbroken than angry. Jaya knew then that whatever else had gone wrong in her life, it had not been a mistake to marry him. Karina and Prem were the good things that had come out of her marriage. And her rediscovery of faith was the one good thing that came from Prem’s death. Everything had a purpose, once you appreciated the spiritual laws of the universe.
“The food still needs to be sealed up,” Jaya said, heading into the kitchen. “Karina, what fruit would you like to take? I have apples, pears, grapes—”
“Mom, I don’t need that much food. I have orientation events for the first three days. I probably won’t even be in my room much.”
In the kitchen, Jaya sealed the plastic containers holding the food she’d prepared: rice, chapatis, dal and Karina’s favorite vegetable curries. At least her daughter would eat well for the first few days until she got settled.
Keith came into the kitchen. “Last bag’s in the car and I have space for the food. All set?”
“Yes,” Jaya said, washing her hands as Karina loaded the containers into a bag and handed it to Keith. “I just need to get one more thing. I’ll meet you outside.”
Jaya was taking a statue of Saraswati on their journey, a smaller replica of the one standing in the shrine upstairs. The goddess of learning would bring blessings to Karina as she began her university career, and Jaya planned to say some extra prayers on the drive. She had specially procured the idol a couple of months ago and tucked it away for safekeeping. But where? she thought as she rummaged through the house. It wasn’t in her dresser drawer, though she came upon the solid silver Ganesha figurine to send to Devesh and Chandra in London as a blessing for their new home. It wasn’t in the temple room, although she saw that the diya and incense had finally burned out, so she took a moment to clean them up. She couldn’t very well leave a mess in the temple for two days while she was gone. Just imagine what kind of calamity she might invite.
“Mom!” Karina called from downstairs. “We’ve got to get going or we’ll hit traffic.”
As if traffic was the worst thing that could happen on this important day. Let her make the journey without the Saraswati, and they would see how much misfortune could befall them. She could hear Keith’s loud car engine starting up outside. Ah! She remembered suddenly and went to the closet in her bedroom, where she retrieved the Saraswati from the top shelf. She slipped it into her handbag and headed downstairs. Good. Now, she was ready.
* * *
After ten minutes of waiting in the car with the engine running, Karina finally saw her mother emerge from the house. Karina reminded herself, as Mom climbed into the passenger seat, to stay calm and cheerful today. She had grown accustomed to her mother’s living in her own head, being late, forgetting things, and she had learned to compensate, but it still annoyed her. Her parents were cordial with each other in her presence; their marriage had seemed to fade away rather than explode in fireworks the way other kids described. Yet she still felt the need to be their bridge; she was keenly aware of being the one thing that still joined them to each other. Would they even see each other anymore, after she left? Would they still talk?
Following her father’s car through the neighborhood, Karina expected to feel some nostalgia. But instead, she was ready to get out of this life, to leave behind the memories of Prem and her parents’ divorce, the house that felt empty with half her family missing, the school where everyone looked at her with pity. The only people from school she would miss were Izzy and Mrs. Galbraith. She and Izzy had spent nearly every weekend night over the summer at each other’s homes, collecting clothing and dorm room furnishings to pack for college. Izzy, ever confident as she headed to Brown, had already declared her major as English and was plotting to get a publishing internship in Manhattan next summer. Karina’s insides clenched at the idea of being so far away from her one true friend. She knew Izzy would easily find new friends and an exciting new life.
Karina only hoped the same would be true for her. She had chosen the University of California Santa Barbara because it had a strong science program, its large student body offered anonymity and her significant merit scholarship would limit how beholden she was to her father for financial support. He’d been disappointed when she wasn’t admitted from the Stanford wait list, but Karina was secretly relieved. Stanford was too close to home and the thought of staying there suffocated her. But from UCSB, L.A. was a stone’s throw, and the beaches of San Diego and the thrill of Tijuana were just a short drive farther south. Las Vegas and Palm Springs were a few hours to the east, and from there, the entire country lay. There was a great swath of the country that she hadn’t yet seen: nearly forty states, according to the map above her desk at home, which had stopped acquiring thumbtacks after their last family trip with Prem, to the Grand Canyon.
College would be a fresh start for Karina. She had even left under her bathroom sink the kit in which she stored her safety pins and razor blades, buried in a shoebox full of makeup that her mother had relinquished to her a few years earlier.
Karina was leaving all that behind too, in hopes of new friends and a new life, where she would not feel the urge to cut herself anymore.
19 | karina
SEPTEMBER 2013
The dorm orientation meeting was at 7:00 p.m. and Karina found herself pacing around her empty room in anticipation. Her roommate hadn’t yet arrived, and her parents had left after taking her out for an early dinner. She had been looking forward to this moment of pure independence, but now found herself nervous. Happy sounds of laughter and chatter came from the other rooms down the corridor. Karina changed her T-shirt three times, trying to achieve the unattainable right look.
At 6:40, there was a commotion at the door and Karina jumped up to open it. On the other side stood a girl with a pillow under her arm, dragging a large suitcase behind her. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Stephanie. We must be roommates.”
“Great! I’m Karina. Do you have more stuff downstairs? I can help you bring it up. There’s a dorm meeting at 7:00.” She heard herself speaking quickly and tried to slow down.
“Nope, this is it.” Stephanie plopped down on the bare mattress. “My dad dropped me off and had to turn around and drive back to Redwood City for work tomorrow. He’s on a big construction job right now. New office building, six stories, all glass,” she said with pride.
“Wow, that’s . . . that’s a lot of driving.” Karina thought of the luxury hotel room in downtown Santa Barbara where she and her parents had stayed the night before.
Stephanie shrugged out of her backpack, leaving it on the mattress. “Ten hours in one day.” She smiled wearily. “Most time I’ve got to spend with him all summer. He works so hard.” Stephanie Cortez, Karina would later learn, was a first-generation American, the first in her extended family to go to college and imbued with all their hopes.
“Yeah, mine too.” Karina’s words, though true, rang hollow to her own ears.
“Should we go downstairs?” Stephanie said, glancing at her watch. “It’s almost seven.”
In the spacious dorm lobby, Karina was struck by how many of the girls gathered there looked similar, with long, pin-straight hair, mostly blond—the kind of hair she’d always coveted, the opposite of hers. Karina caught bits of conversations about beaches, bars, sorority rush, parties later that night. Some of the girls seemed to know each other already. She looked around for a familiar face, though she knew that no one from her high school had enrolled at UCSB. They sat through a rundown of the dorm’s rules and procedures, then the meeting concluded with an icebreaker: they were supposed to talk to as many people as they could in five minutes and share one unique fact about themselves with each person. As soon as the bell rang, an Indian girl Karina had noticed on the other side of the room made a beeline for her.
“Hi, I’m Priya Patel. Pre-med. And no, my parents don’t own a motel.” She smiled conspiratorially. “That’s two facts. How about you?”
“I’m Karina, from Los Altos.”
“Huh. I’m from Fremont. I’ve never seen you at the ICC.” Priya frowned when Karina looked confused. “The Indian Community Center?” she said, with a touch of sarcasm. “Haven’t you been? God, my family practically lives there on the weekends.” Priya glanced down at Karina’s name tag and winced. “Oh . . . sorry, I thought . . .”
“I’m half Indian. My mom,” Karina said. “But I’ve never been to the ICC.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Priya said. Just then, the bell rang, indicating that only one minute was left. “Well, nice to meet you.”
Karina felt both relieved and disappointed when they parted. The next girl she turned to had that sleek blond hair. “I’m Jessie,” she said to Karina. “Short for Jessica. And I’m the youngest of seven.” She nodded and smiled knowingly. “Yup. Three brothers and three sisters. I’m the caboose. My folks are counting the days till their last tuition bill. How about you? Any siblings?”
“Oh, I . . . I’m Karina, from Los Altos,” Karina said, as her mind raced. She was accustomed to being around people who knew her whole story and avoided the topic entirely. “I’m an only child, actually.” She knew she didn’t owe anything to a stranger, and yet the words felt disloyal out of her mouth.
“Oh. Sometimes I think that would be nice,” Jessie quipped, but a flicker of pity seemed to cross her face.
Karina made her way through the crowd back to Stephanie, who was speaking lightning-fast Spanish with another girl. She stood awkwardly by until the bell rang again and the meeting concluded. Stephanie and her new friend hugged and promised, in Spanish, to see each other soon. Karina returned to her room with Stephanie, who seemed nearly as out of place in that sea of girls as she did. Nearly, but not quite. Karina’s club of two in the world had been reduced to one, and suddenly she felt very alone.
* * *
Karina felt a disquieting discomfort that first week as she wandered around campus, trying to wean herself from the map folded in her pocket. She expected to meet more people once classes started, but after every class, everyone scattered like the marbles she and Prem used to play with. They’d lie on their bellies in the family room and line up marbles in their sights before taking a shot. It seemed improbable that she missed Prem even more now, four years later, and yet she longed to share what she was experiencing with her little brother, whose face she envisioned with its shadow of facial hair lining his upper lip. It brought her some consolation to picture him accompanying her across campus, as she imagined how she would describe everything to him. She saw him at the end of her bed with a book when she studied, his gangly thirteen-year-old legs bumping into hers. He might not have understood what she was going through, but it still would have brought her comfort to tell him. Who else could she tell about her renewed sorrow? The only thing more unbearable than suffering alone was the idea of having to share it with one of her parents, where it would multiply.
Even with a hefty scholarship, Stephanie was working both on and off campus to pay her way through college, and she only came back to their room late at night. Karina got into the habit of waiting up for her to return from her second job at a Chinese buffet restaurant near campus.
“By the end of my shift, I can’t stand the smell of that food anymore, but hey, it’s free.” Stephanie smiled as she unwrapped cartons full of white rice and plain noodles, which she proceeded to transform with ingredients brought from home. They sat together in the common kitchen of their dormitory, slurping bowls of soup made with rich chicken bouillon, canned beans and dried chilies.
“I don’t know how you do it, working so hard all the time,” Karina said. After their shared late-night meals, Stephanie would often stay up studying after Karina went to bed.
Stephanie scooped a spoonful of brothy rice into her mouth and shrugged. “I’m used to it. I’ve worked since I was fourteen.” She wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “I’d rather work harder now than take on a lot of debt, you know?” Stephanie spoke about her mother, who cleaned houses, her father in construction, and her two little brothers, who aspired to be a soccer player and an Air Force pilot. As her roommate described caring for her younger brothers, Karina almost mentioned Prem, but something held her back. Stephanie made her brothers quesadillas after school and helped them with math. She was responsible. She was good.
One night, Karina surprised Stephanie by cooking up a batch of rice noodles from the restaurant with Indian spices and ghee that her mother had insisted on packing for her over Karina’s protests that she’d have nowhere and no reason to cook on campus. The noodles were edible, but not tasty. The more spices Karina tried to add, the more muddled the flavor became, until they both had raw throats and running noses.
“Let’s leave the cooking to me,” Stephanie teased. “You can take out the trash or something.”
Karina agreed, laughing.
Since Stephanie wasn’t around much, Karina tried to get to know other girls in her dorm. She struck up conversations in the bathroom, tagged along with groups going to the cafeteria, and spent e
venings studying in the common room. Her days were full those first months on campus, but it was hard for Karina to get into gear. That desire she’d had to roam and explore, that curiosity to discover all that was different from what she’d known, began to recede a little. Karina found herself missing the comfort and familiarity of her life at home, as imperfect as it was. When she saw signs appear around campus for the Indian Students Association, she heard her mother’s voice in her head and went to the first meeting. She saw Priya from her dorm there and hoped they might sit together, but Priya was already ensconced with a group of friends. Karina sat through discussions of a bhangra dance competition, throwing colors for the Holi spring festival and monthly Bollywood film nights. There was the temptation to fill her social calendar here, with events every weekend. But she couldn’t keep up with the conversation over which films to select and knew nothing about bhangra. Other than food, her familiarity with Indian culture was limited to her mother’s classical dancing and prayers—which she preferred to forget. She realized she wouldn’t fit in here any better than amongst the dorm girls.
Before coming to campus, Karina had imagined it would be very freeing to be someplace where no one knew her or anything about her. Instead, it felt like a burden she was carrying: who she really was inside, that person and those truths only she knew. She didn’t know how to be the person she was and also someone new here at college.
* * *
A few months into her freshman year, comfortable with her classes and earning good grades across the board, Karina was eager for some additional way to occupy herself. She approached her biology professor, Dr. Choi, knocking tentatively on his open office door.
“Hi, Dr. Choi. I’m Karina Olander. I’m in your—”
“Advanced Biology class. Yes, Karina, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I was wondering if there might be any way of earning extra credit?”