Jhumpa Lahiri - Unaccustomed Earth

Saturday morning Rahul made omelettes, expertly chopping mushrooms and onions the way the chefs did on television, and then at Rahul's suggestion they went to the London Zoo. Rahul had offered to take Neel himself, and though throughout the week both Sudha and Roger had taken advantage of Rahul's presence, leaving him in charge for five or ten minutes if they needed to go to the corner for eggs or bread, there was no question of that. And yet, once they were at the zoo, both Roger and Sudha felt obsolete. Rahul carried Neel on his shoulders the whole time, the stroller Sudha pushed containing nothing but her purse. Neel was equally smitten, bursting into tears when Rahul had to use the restroom. Rahul had insisted on paying for everything-buying them their tickets, their sandwiches and sodas, the ice cream for Neel, the lime-green balloon that drifted all afternoon above their heads.

"I was thinking of going to a movie later," Rahul said when they returned to the house, still carrying Neel. "But I think I'd rather stay home with this guy."

"Don't be silly," Sudha said. "You've dealt with him all day. You deserve a break."

Rahul shook his head. "I'm leaving tomorrow, and we've got a lot of catching up to do." And then he said, "You two are the ones who need a break. When was the last time you saw a movie together?"

The idea presented itself, a perfect plan that felt all wrong. She looked over at Roger, and Rahul saw her looking. "What, you guys don't trust me?"

"Of course," Roger said. He turned to Sudha. "Shall we,

Su?"

She reminded herself that they had a cell phone; the movie theater was a ten-minute drive from the house. If they went to an early show, they'd be back in time for Neel's bath. "I'll call to see what's playing," she said.

"We'll be right here," Rahul promised her, looking up from the sitting room floor where he and Neel were stacking blocks, and she forced herself to believe him. They had not left him a key, there was nowhere he could go. She had left food for Neel, milk in a sippy cup, overcooked macaroni that was impossible to choke on. She had reminded Rahul to be careful with Neel on the stairs. During the movie she kept the volume of her cell phone turned on, not trusting it to vibrate in the pocket of her jeans. After the first hour she got up and called from the lobby. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's great," Rahul told her. "He seemed hungry so I'm giving him something to eat." In the background she could hear Neel banging something, a cup or a spoon, against the tray of his high chair.

"Great. Thanks. We'll be back soon," she said.

"No need to rush," Rahul said. And so on their way back, at Roger's suggestion, they stopped at a market, for cheese and jams and a few other things they needed. They bought three nice steaks for dinner, Roger saying he would make a tart.

Rahul and Neel were not in the sitting room where she expected to find them, not playing among the toys scattered across the carpet. A children's show was on television but no one was watching it. Downstairs in the kitchen the high chair had not been wiped, and gummy bits of pasta were submerged in a puddle of water on the surface of the tray. The balloon from the zoo had been tied to the side, reaching almost to the ceiling. All the upper cupboards were open, but nothing seemed to have been removed from them. Quickly Sudha shut them, a cold sweat forming on her lips.

"They haven't left, the push chair's still here," Roger said.

As she raced up the steps she heard the sound of water splashing and chided herself for panicking. "It's okay," she called out. "He's giving Neel a bath."

She found Neel in the tub, filling his sippy cup with water and pouring it out. He was sitting without the plastic ring they normally put him in so that he wouldn't tip over. He was trembling but otherwise happy, intent on his task, the water up to the middle of his chest, the mere sight of him sitting there, unattended, causing Sudha to emit a series of spontaneous cries and a volt of fear to seize her haunches. The water was no longer warm. One slip and he would have been facedown, his fine dark hair spread like a sunburst, the strands waving as the rest of him was still.

"Where's your uncle?" Roger demanded, even though Neel did not yet have the words to reply. He yanked Neel out of the tub, making him burst into tears.

They found Rahul in Roger's study, asleep, a glass tucked beneath the daybed. In their bedroom, the sweater chest was open, the necks of the bottles poking out, nestled in woolly arms. They went back to Roger's study and were unable to rouse Rahul, Sudha shaking his shoulder as she held Neel. Roger leaned over Rahul's duffel, stuffing it with clothes.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"What does it look like, Sudha?"

"He'll do that when he gets up."

Roger stood up, his face not at all kind. "I'm making it easier for him. I don't want your brother to set foot in our home or come near our child ever again."

Because they could not scream at Rahul they began to scream at each other, the strange calm that had followed their discovery in the bathtub now shattered.

"You're the one who told him we trusted him," she said. "You agreed to go out."

"Don't blame this on me," Roger said. "I barely know him. Don't you dare blame a bit of this on me."

"I'm not," she said, beginning to cry. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"Told me what?"

She was sobbing now, too hard for any words to come out, Neel beginning to cry again in reaction. Roger went up to her, holding her by the shoulders, his arms outstretched. "Told me what?"

And somehow, in spite of how hard she was crying, she told him, about the very first time Rahul had come to visit her at Penn, and how he hadn't even liked beer, and then about all the cans they'd hidden over the years and how eventually it was no longer a game for him but a way of life, a way of life that had removed him from her family and ruined him.

Roger looked around the study with its book-lined walls, its cabinets full of files, postcards of noble portraits pinned over the desk. A disgusted look appeared on his face. And then he looked at Sudha, his disgust for her just as plain. "You lied to me. I've never lied to you, Sudha. I would never have kept something like this from you."

She nodded. She was still crying, tightly holding Neel. Roger took their son from her arms and left her there with Rahul, who was flat on his back, one leg hanging over the edge of the daybed, his slackened face to the wall.

All night she did not sleep, Roger stiff as a board on his side. They'd gone to bed hungry, the three steaks tossed into the freezer. Rahul had never woken up. She knew Roger was right, knew that if it had been his sibling she would have said and done the same. She thought of her parents, who had believed their children were destined to succeed, had fumbled when one failed. After everything Rahul had put them through they never renounced him, never banished him. They were incapable of shutting him out. But Roger was capable, and Sudha realized, as the wakeful night passed, that she was capable, too.

She drifted off around daybreak, then woke up an hour later, hearing the shower running. It ran for a long time. She became nervous and considered knocking, but then she heard the door open, and a few minutes later, footsteps padding down the stairs.

"I meant to clean up the high chair," Rahul said when she joined him in the kitchen. He was dressed in one of Roger's bathrobes, squinting, as if the subterreanean space were flooded with light. His voice was gruff, the effects of the liquor clear in the delicate yet awkward way he was moving about. He had filled the kettle with water, turned on the gas, measured coffee into the glass pot. "Sorry about that."

"I thought you were better."