Tania James - Atlas of Unknowns

That same week, the office was shut down and the New York State Bar Association disbarred Rajiv Tandon for “professional misconduct and legal incompetence” involving eight illegal immigrants in Jackson Heights. His was one of several names mentioned in a New York Times article uncovering the duplicities of the illegal visa business called “Dollars and Dreams: Immigrants as Prey.” The article revealed that Rajiv Tandon was raised in New Brunswick, New Jersey, where he had attended a local public school, not St. Albans, as he often claimed. He had taken his law degree from Rutgers School of Law, and after clerking for a court judge in New Jersey, he moved to New York and opened his office to the pool of illegals in Jackson Heights.

The article went on to report the recent growth of such corruption: “As the number of illegal immigrants in this country has swollen to what the Department of Homeland Security conservatively estimates at nine million, so have the ranks of those who inhabit the immigration business’s underbelly, posing as well-meaning advisers to those in search of a new job, a new home and a green card if not full citizenship.”

After reading the article, Bird wondered where she figured on the food chain between predator and prey. All those chais she had made just to anesthetize clients before their fortunes were properly devoured. What did she know of what went on behind closed doors? But this was no excuse. She had held the hands of some of those people. She had chased Anju down and forced this predator upon her. The following days led Bird to the certainty that she could do nothing for the others, but if there was one person she had to help, it was Anju.

“I tried calling and calling you,” Bird said. “I left messages. I thought you had heard somehow and didn’t want to speak to me anymore.”

THE “DOLLARS AND DREAMS” ARTICLE, which Bird had clipped and saved, lay in Anju’s lap. She could tell that her silence was beginning to make Bird wary, but she could not stop staring at her warped reflection on the curve of the blue vase, transfixed, unwilling to return to the world of sharp angles and dead ends. But it was absolutely vital that she present herself as controlled, rational, aware of actions and consequences and their linear order. She blinked twice in the effort not to look unhinged. She took a breath.

“I have a problem.”

Bird clasped her hands, her expression eager and anxious. “What can I do? Tell me, I will help you.”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course.” Bird glanced at the large duffel bag at Anju’s feet, confused about its presence. “Do you want to call the Solankis?”

“No.”

Anju would not call anyone because with a single word from a familiar voice, she would doubt herself. And doubt would not allow her to soldier on, to operate under the necessary illusion that she was alone in the world and had no other choice but to stay. If she returned home now, her family’s relief would quickly fade against the disgrace that would follow. She could return only once redeemed.

For now she focused on finishing her Cream of Wheat under the skeptical eye of her new roommate. Bird would not settle for the truth alone. She, like any adult, would demand that laws be obeyed, and if not laws, then fathers. Anju’s mind moved swiftly to the next lie she would tell. Move forward, not back , Ammachi once told her. She had been talking about how to properly sweep a floor, but still.

THOUGH BIRD IS NOT a religious woman, there are times when she feels that she is truly witness to certain small, divine mysteries. Often she thinks of that day in Tandoori Express, when she happened across the Manorama article that she would normally skip. What were the chances, the series of good fortunes that brought Bird face-to-face with the closest thing left of Gracie, just as Gracie had promised in one of her letters?

Bird and Anju had met. They had sipped tea in Bird’s living room, so small an event to Anju, so monumental to Bird.

And now, in the same living room, Bird listened as the girl defined what precisely she meant by a “problem.” Anju explained each step and misstep, from the stealing of the sketchbook to her recent expulsion. She begged Bird to let her stay until she earned back the money she had lost and maybe even worked toward obtaining a green card.

“Wait, wait,” Bird interrupted. “The school expelled you, and now you’ve run away?”

“I did not run, I left. After the school’s decision, Mrs. Solanki expected me to return to Kumarakom. What would she do with me for six months, hanging around the apartment all day? I told her, ‘I’d like to stay with my auntie in Queens.’ Mrs. Solanki said okay.”

“And the school has no problem with you staying?”

“I am not their responsibility anymore,” Anju insisted. “I’m not breaking any laws by staying. My student visa lasts until the end of June, so I have six months to apply for a visa extension and then residency.”

Bird made Anju repeat herself. Was it really that simple? Impossible that the girl could tell anything but truth with such weary calm, a calm that came from having no other choice. “What would your father say about all this?”

“I called him already. I told him all about you.”

Bird straightened up, her stomach sinking. “You told him my name?”

Anju hesitated before nodding. “Was I wrong to?”

“No, no. Go on.”

“I told him you are a Malayali woman, a secretary and a librarian. An auntie to me here. And that you had tried to help me get a green card. I told him that you might take me in.” She waited for Bird to object, but Bird said nothing. “He was hoping that you would say yes, at least for a short time. He is afraid that if I don’t finish my student visa, if I am sent home by the school, it will be a black mark on my record and I will never be allowed to return….”

Bird tried to focus on what Anju was saying, but instead she pictured the Melvin she had never met. She had always imagined him handsome and bearded, muscled and demanding. And what did Bird’s name mean to Melvin? No doubt he had once heard of her; Gracie mentioned as much in one of her letters. (Melvin thinks you are a bad influence. That you are trying to take me away.) But after all these years, it seemed that he had forgotten her name.

“… And he has heard of many people applying for a green card and getting it,” Anju continued. “So he would like me to stay with you for the time being. Till I get a better status.” Anju met Bird’s gaze. “He said this is what my mother would have wanted for me.”

Bird looked away, fingering her sleeve. “Does he want me to call him?”

“Our long-distance connection is terrible. Better to send letters.”

Nodding, Bird stared at the orange flowers, which would live infinitely in their desiccated state, dust gathering between the leaves. Her post-show wreaths and bouquets, now reduced to this. Melvin had been to one of her performances, this much she knew. But now, any conversation between them would lead back to a time that she preferred not to remember, rumors she had left behind, knowingly shrouded in dust. Did he remember the rumors? Did he connect them to the “auntie” Anju had told him about? It seemed he didn’t, but he might, if Bird called. And then this beautiful chance, so fortunate for Bird and Anju both, could be lost.

“Do you want my father to call you?” Anju asked.

“No,” Bird said quickly. “No need.”

“So can you help me?”

This was the question that snagged on Bird’s heart, an echo of the one she had uttered countless times in Tandon’s office— Can I help you? — all the while knowing that her help would never amount to much. Now she could care for this child, Gracie’s child, whom Melvin was entrusting to her.