That night, exhausted yet somehow also rejuvenated, Olivia stood in the middle of her transformed bedroom. No longer bare and dismal, it now burst with color and character, all of which she’d chosen. Scott’s disapproving frown and patronizing head shake continued to rear up, attempting to shame her for this nonsense. But she pushed him aside, enjoying the happy little warm glow in her chest. Her space reflected her personality, even aspects she’d forgotten all about until today, along with newly discovered likes.
Peacocks for instance. She’d been drawn to anything with peacocks. In addition to the bedspread now draped over and hiding the plain metal bedframe, she’d discovered matching sheets. The vendor had happily handed over a set to her when she pointed at it—two flat sheets with the same beautiful vibrant green and blue peacocks stamped over them, plus a matching pillowcase. Remembering what they’d told her about prices and cost of living, and still feeling like she was swindling this man, she palmed him a few extra rupees when no one else was looking. As Chris had said, it was her dollar, and she could do as she pleased. The man had pressed his palms together around her hand, bowing low in thanks. It felt good to do as she pleased.
When she’d spotted an incredible piece of artwork with a classic Indian woman surrounded by peacocks, she had to have it. The vendor told her it was painted on marble. She couldn’t resist the framed work, picturing it hanging in her new room and later taking it back home. Then she’d seen a similar one with a highly decorated elephant painted on the light gray marble, and similarly framed in gold-painted wood. A perfect set. Once she discovered the prevalence of elephant motifs, those called to her as well. Decorative elephant pillows sat at the head of her bed, complementing the peacock bedcover.
Chris surprised her with a set of two stone-inlaid, green marble elephants—a mother and a baby. Certain they were outrageously expensive, carved from marble and inlaid with colorful, intricate stonework, she attempted to refuse. He assured her they were prolific and cheap, souvenirs intended to entice tourists as a reminder of the Taj Mahal. “But the Taj Mahal is white marble, which is what most tourists want. The green is cheap. But still beautiful. And they had your name all over them.” She held them in her hand. He had no idea how the sight of the mother and baby caused her heart to ache with sorrow. “They are beautiful,” she’d agreed. “Thank you so much.” She’d also noticed how Aubra’s jaw tightened while the other girls admired the gift.
Guilt stabbed at her, accepting gifts from a man. How would Scott feel if he knew? How was the department chair faring as a divorced man? He probably moped around, presenting a stoic front, humbly accepting quiet words of sympathy as the long-suffering martyr. He would do that. She wondered what story he’d concocted to explain the divorce. What did he tell people about her? Thoughts of Scott brought back thoughts of reality, a reminder of the events of the past year, and quelled her good mood. Nothing good could come from dwelling on her ex. She went back to admiring her finds, hoping to recapture the fleeting happiness.
She’d found a peacock purse, embroidered tapestries Chris had helped her hang on the walls, and a wooden elephant incense burner plus stacks of spicy incense to scent her room. A square wooden lamp was another must-have purchase, particularly since it matched her marble artwork so well. The panes in the four sides of the lamp, where she would have expected glass, were instead translucent panels, painted with women surrounded by peacocks. The lightbulb inside shown through the images, illuminating them from behind.
She’d gushed over delightful tablecloths and matching cloth napkins, selecting a set with parrots, elephants, and camels all over it for her mom, imagining it draped on her mom’s table as well as the look on her mom’s face when she told her the price. Olivia shook her head in disbelief each time a seller quoted a price to her, still unable to adjust to the low cost of everything. The vendors took her shocked reaction as part of the bargaining process, which worked in her favor as she learned to haggle under her new friends’ guidance. Mom would love this. And, she realized, she loved it. The low cost, the bargaining, walking away feeling like she got an amazing deal. She could picture her mom’s face with each incredible steal. How amazing it would be for her to be able to afford things without always scraping and pinching and counting every dollar every month. And the shared delight of her fellow teachers, nodding their support at favorite items, agreeing she should get it, admiring her choices, all helped drown out Scott’s continued disapproval.
Which made her wonder why he had always displayed annoyance when something made her happy.
At a stall selling shoes, she stopped to look at the leather sandals on display. Every woman they’d passed seemed to wear sandals with a loop over the big toe. The design appealed to her. Unable to resist, she tried on a few until she chose a favorite style in her size. She wore them rather than have the vendor wrap them up for her. Walking away, she told Scott’s frowning countenance in her mind that she didn’t want to hear his opinion. She liked these sandals, darn it, and so did the other teachers, and she was weary of questioning her every thought.
The others insisted she buy a supply of mosquito coils and the little clay dish to burn them in at night. “That way you won’t need netting over the bed but can still sleep in peace,” Melanie instructed. Skeptical of burning a chemical poison every night, she’d questioned this idea. But they’d reassured her it was simply a desiccant that would dry out mosquitos but not harm her in any way. They also assured her the risk of malaria in this part of the country was low—low enough not to take the prophylactic pills that carried a slew of potential side effects—but they all still needed to exercise reasonable precautions.
Aubra had spoken up then. “I keep suggesting we all take up the old British remedy of gin and tonic. The quinine in the tonic water is an anti-malarial. It’s medicinal.”
Everyone else in the group gagged and retched. “Ew! No gin!” By then Olivia’s defenses had begun melting, and she’d ew-ed and laughed along, marveling she remembered how to laugh and delighting in the wonderful lightness a little laughter left in its cleansing wake.
They’d crammed back into the car after loading her treasures into the trunk and headed off to the strip mall farther up the street. The concrete buildings were a step above the street stalls, though nothing at all like a store back home.
They showed her the pharmacy, where medications that required a prescription back home were available for purchase. “As long as you know which medication you need,” Tisha told her, “you can just come buy it. And for pennies on the dollar compared to what we pay in the States.” You simply walked up to a counter and asked for what you needed.
They wandered through a book and stationery store. And though expensive by comparison to the open-air market, the quality struck her as better and the low costs continued to surprise her.
Their last stop for the day was a clothing store. All four girls urged her into it. “You must be burning up in those jeans,” Delilah commented. “I remember when I first arrived and wanted to keep wearing my Western-style clothes too. But you’ll be glad you switched. The temperatures here won’t get much cooler, and this is so comfortable.”
Delilah wore a sari, her lithe, willowy frame allowing such a thing. Olivia refused to even try one on. Her OB-GYN had dubbed her the “queen of stretchmarks” and under no circumstances would she expose her belly. Delilah assumed she had body image issues and pressed her to feel comfortable in her own skin. Easy for her to say.
Delilah held up a red and gold version. “You might wind up loving it!”
Olivia continued to shake her head, embarrassed but stubborn. A young saleswoman came to her rescue, attributing her refusal to modesty, of which she apparently approved.
The woman gestured to her own outfit, the same style Tisha, Aubra, and Melanie wore. “Shalwar kameez?” she asked, leading her away from the saris.
“We were getting there,” Tisha said. “We wanted you to enjoy the full experience. We all at least tried on a sari.”
Sure, and you’re all younger than I am and don’t have scars to worry about.
“I wouldn’t come out of the changing stall, though,” Tisha said. “I get it. But, girl, these outfits are so comfortable, I may never go back.”
The soft drawstring britches and accompanying matching tunics came in every color imaginable, more fabrics than she knew existed, and all embroidered, embellished, dyed—the sheer magnitude of options made her head spin. She couldn’t decide, each one more sumptuous than the last. Surely this would be when prices reflected the stunning craftsmanship, time, and effort that went into the handcrafted item.
The saleswoman sized her and then showed her to a fitting room, where she tried on a slew of options, and also taught her how to wear the matching dupatta that accompanied each outfit. The long scarf-like rectangle of fabric draped across the chest and over the shoulders, the ends dangling down the back. It could also be used to cover the head or shield your face. The saleswoman adjusted it until Olivia got the hang of it herself.
Tisha, Aubra, Melanie, and Delilah all had strong opinions about what she should wear and brought outfit after outfit. The saleswoman consistently brought heavily sequined and beaded pieces to her. Chris was no help in choosing from among the mind-boggling options. He told her she looked stunning in every one she tried on and suggested she choose whatever she liked best. She’d blinked at him, silently digesting this and trying to wrap her brain around a man who suggested she decide. What if she wound up disliking what she chose? What if they looked bad on her but no one would tell her the painful truth? Scott had kept her from these difficult situations, stepping in with a sigh and choosing for her. But Scott left her, and now she had to fend for herself. Ultimately, she settled on four outfits, none too flashy or fancy since she would be teaching impoverished children and didn’t want to appear to be flaunting wealth she didn’t have.
And yet, the total cost for all four outfits shocked her. She turned, wondering if she ought to pick up a couple more while they were here.
“We’ll go shopping again,” Tisha told her, laughing. “I remember though. It’s exciting the first time.”
“And there are other stores,” Delilah said.
“Cheaper, even,” Melanie said.
“Cheaper than this? How can that be possible?”
“These ought to get you through the first week,” Chris said. “And yeah, we can try some other stores later.”
She so loved the soft emerald-green outfit with beading along the neckline that she wore it out the door. Not only was the outfit far more comfortable, but also she liked blending in a smidge more—at least as much as she could.
She hung the other three sets of shalwar kameez in the open not-quite-closet space and stood back to admire the room, now fully adorned with peacocks, elephants, and camels. The previously bare walls held embroidered tapestries and painted marble artwork. The lamp on her nightstand cast a soft glow over the room. She breathed in the soothing fragrance of cedarwood incense. The girls had even offered guidance to improve the bathroom space with fancy botanical soaps and shampoo, a small table for storage, and a hanger over the showerhead to hold all her toiletry items. They’d also reminded her to grab a trashcan for “that time of the month” when things would get a little messy without one.
Her growling stomach along with footsteps elsewhere in the building sent her to check a clock. Dinnertime. Her room transformation project had taken all day, which she’d spent happily preoccupied with new people and decorating.
This would do. She liked her new space, uniquely designed by her and for her, to reflect her likes and no one else’s. Simple, but cute and fun. Scott’s annoying disapproval attempted to rear up again, but she squashed it. She liked enjoying the moment, liked feeling okay about herself while it lasted.
She also liked her co-teachers/housemates. She’d never been a social butterfly and the realization she had melded into a group of friends surprised but delighted her. Scott had convinced her over the years that church was for chumps and had alienated her from friends one by one until her suggestions for lunch or coffee went unanswered. She’d listened to him when he listed off her friends’ poor influences on her. And listened when he hinted that Olivia couldn’t keep friends due to her own insufficiencies. “It’s not my fault your friends don’t want to spend time with you anymore,” he’d said, more than once, when one of her friends claimed it could be challenging to keep friendships going after marriage. But she also remembered one friend asking if she could come without Scott, then losing interest when she could not. Scott preferred to accompany her.
But this little group of people seemed to enjoy her company today. Scott’s voice in her mind attempted to tell her to give them time and once they knew her better, they’d drift away too. She hoped not. She looked forward to dinner not simply for the food to slake her hunger, but also eager for company, even after spending much of the day with her new friends.
She could manage the limited diet as well. She’d flirted with the idea of trying out a meat-free diet in the past, but Scott had always adamantly insisted he wanted meat included in their meals. In fact, he expected his meals to revolve around the meat, with additional items as sides, not the star of the show. And no matter how many times she showed him articles extolling the health benefits of vegetables and fruits in the diet, Scott had insisted she was wrong. India’s cuisine offered her the perfect opportunity to branch out, try new things, see what she’d been missing. She’d be forced to go all in and see what happened, but the idea excited her. What did a person eat if a piece of meat wasn’t the primary focus of the meal? She was about to find out.
She could do this. Only one question remained: Could she cut it as a teacher—not a professor, a teacher—and offer a small group of children the chance at a better life? She was about to find that out, too.