The email from her mother struck Olivia with guilt.
I haven’t heard from you in quite some time. Please let me know you’re okay.
Every time she sat at her computer, she intended to send an email detailing everything keeping her busy. But between preparing for class, staying caught up with tutoring, checking on Navya and Meena at the building, and continuing to make the rounds through town, reaching out to women they still hadn’t spoken with, spreading the word and encouraging women to seek better options for their health, the email always seemed to get pushed to the backburner.
She clicked REPLY and began sharing all the things she did every day, plus how her little project was the subject of a documentary that could very well be seen all over the world. She described how Noah had shared a few clips of recorded footage with news outlets back home, no doubt hoping to create some buzz for his documentary before he even finished filming it. His efforts paid off at least a little. He’d mentioned a few news sources picked it up and ran stories. The film students wouldn’t stay much longer, but had decided to remain at least through Diwali, since the beautiful festival would add gorgeous images to their short film.
Noah periodically dropped not-too-subtle hints that he really wanted to close on a happy ending and be able to share this as a success story. Did he honestly think she wasn’t already doing everything she possibly could? The man’s ego and completely self-absorbed nature rubbed her so far the wrong way, she was embarrassed she’d ever considered him attractive. Exactly the way she was starting to feel about Scott.
Noah also had heard about the mysterious red rain and frequently voiced the opinion that he would really like to capture that phenomenon while he was here. “What a great addition to the documentary that would be,” he mused.
Olivia disagreed and had no interest in experiencing that ever again, despite Aubra’s assurances that her lab intern friend had let her know the rain was harmless. Though still not able to identify the compound or explain why the rain was red, Aubra insisted that if he said it was harmless, then it was. Olivia didn’t mention the bizarre rainstorm to her mother, not sure she believed the “unknown but harmless” rationale.
Trying to describe Diwali to her mother when she hadn’t even experienced it yet herself left her staring at the screen, searching for the right words. Someone knocked on her door.
She opened it to reveal not someone but several someones—all the teachers plus Emma congregated in the hallway.
“Code red,” Melanie said. “We are so far behind in Diwali preparations, we’ve declared a state of emergency.”
“Emergency shopping trip!” Delilah said.
“We need Diwali craft supplies,” Tisha said. “If we don’t have the kids make their diyas soon, we won’t have time to have them fired at the kiln.”
Olivia glanced back at her computer. “I have so much work still waiting for me. I don’t think I can go. I’ll send some rupees with you and you can pick up—”
“All work and no play makes Jane a dull girl,” Delilah said.
“But I need to—”
“Nope,” Tisha said. “We insist. Delilah is right. You stay cooped up in here working far too much lately. Even when you’re out and about, it’s for work. Come shop. It’s technically also work-related, but we will force you to have fun too.”
She could see they wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I’ll get my shoes.” She saved the email draft and made a mental note to be sure to finish and send it tonight. Mom would be asleep right now anyway, since it was the middle of the night on the other side of the globe.
Chris met them in the courtyard.
“No other guys today?” She stared past him to see if Noah and Jack followed him from the dorm.
Emma held up empty hands. “No, they’re reviewing what we’ve recorded so far. Noah wants to ensure we have a solid arc. We don’t need more random market footage. I just want to go shop.”
“Good. We can all relax.” Olivia had discovered the constant presence of cameras made her anxious and guarded, constantly re-evaluating any words before she spoke and acutely aware of her physical presence. In the footage of herself she’d seen, she fidgeted, shuffled back and forth, crossed and uncrossed her arms. And Noah seemed to find any possible excuse to turn the camera on her and zoom in on her face. It struck her as a little creepy.
Emma squeezed into the already-crowded back seat of their little car, nearly perching on Aubra’s lap, and reassured Chris she was fine. “It’s a short drive. Just go.”
“How did the personal hygiene presentation go with the girls?” Chris asked after he pulled into the street.
“Eye opening to say the least,” she answered. “Meena kept things factual and straightforward. She mentioned babies but not sex. The girls still wouldn’t answer her questions, though. Just stared in their laps.”
“Mukesh handled the boys the same way,” Chris said. “He told them why education is so important. He shared he didn’t learn about menstruation until his thirties. Some of the boys did attempt to answer questions. Hesitant and embarrassed, but they tried to guess. One of my upper-level boys said he’d heard menstruation is a sickness that only women can catch. That really shocked me. The lack of education is appalling.” He glanced at her. “I supported you at every step, even when I doubted you could pull it off. But we have to pull it off. If you change only one life, it will be worth it.”
Sure her face pinked with pleasure, she smiled at him but said nothing. What could she say? She hoped the look in her eyes sufficiently conveyed the eruption of gratitude she felt. No way could she form words to adequately express what his support and encouragement meant to her. Had any man ever treated her this way? His gentle but steely kindness trickled over her aching soul like water soothing parched ground.
“The children were shocked, no doubt,” Tisha said, “but imagine how much greater the shock to start bleeding and have no idea why.”
“Or the shock when someone hands you the Kama Sutra on your wedding night without a word, just leaves you to figure it out for yourselves.”
“No way,” Melanie said. “Get out of here.”
“Happened to Mukesh and his wife,” Chris said, shaking his head.
Aubra leaned forward. “It’s less likely to happen in big cities, of course, and Mukesh is a bit older than us. Attitudes are slowly changing. Still, it happens, particularly in the most remote areas.”
“Maybe eventually we could attempt some sex education,” Tisha said. “Though not in front of cameras and only for the eldest students.”
“Parents will argue we will be instructing them and encouraging it,” Aubra said.
“To be expected,” Tisha said. “That’s true back home in the States, too, particularly when birth control methods are included.”
“Meena and her beau figured it out, even with no talk and no instruction,” Delilah said. “Look how that turned out.”
They rode in silence the rest of the way. Olivia didn’t know what to do with this new bit of information and tried to imagine the shock on a wedding night if this wholly new expectation got sprung on you.
At the market, they were delighted to find prolific Diwali decorations and supplies everywhere. They bought bags and bags of vividly colored sand for rangoli, plus chalk so the children could make their own. They loaded up on bright paper the children could fold into flowers. They picked up pounds and pounds of clay for the diyas they would make. Battery-operated tea lights proved a bit more challenging but eventually they found enough of them that each student would be able to light their diya.
Olivia noticed some glances as they shopped but thought nothing of it. She’d become accustomed to the attention and odd looks foreigners attracted. But when they walked past the newsstand—the place where she’d attempted to stay abreast of the mysterious red rain—her own face stared back at her from the front page of some of the papers. A photo of Mukesh ran alongside.
“What in the world?” She lifted a copy and read the accompanying article.
NAPKIN DESIGNED BY INDIAN MAN REVOLUTIONIZING INDIA
She bought one of each paper and stood reading the article. The article highlighted the documentary and her struggle to bring the pad machine to and win acceptance from the small town, but also discussed Mukesh and his inventions, both the affordable pad as well as the machine to make them.
Aubra took a paper and skimmed the article. “This is similar to the articles Noah ran back home. He issued a press release and it got picked up by several outlets. In fact, this is so similar I’d say it was more or less lifted from British papers.”
“Like this? With my photo?”
“Oh, yes. It’s promotional. Noah received some donations, too. That will help complete his project once he gets back home.”
“Funny. He didn’t mention donations to me.” Olivia pressed her lips together to refrain from speaking the choice words she’d love to say about Noah. It was all about him. Everything. He didn’t come to India to help anyone but himself. He only supported her project as a means to an end for his documentary. And he used her image to help market and promote himself, to gain accolades for being a great guy focused on women’s issues when he hadn’t contributed to the project in any way.
“The publicity helps you too,” Aubra said.
“It hasn’t yet. I won’t make a penny from this project. Nothing. Noah is literally profiting off Mukesh’s work.”
She closed her mouth before she said anything more. Aubra constantly vied for Noah’s attention. She had no trouble imagining Aubra racing off to tell Noah what she’d said about him.
Chris rubbed at the back of his neck. “I was thinking maybe we could go by the jewelry store again.”
“Do you need something to make you feel pretty?” Delilah teased him.
“Actually, I think Olivia should look at that pink opal again. I can’t stop thinking about it. Seems like it’s here in this little town just for her.”
They all turned to look at her. She didn’t feel the same shock at the suggestion that she’d felt before. “Well, if everyone wants to go . . .”
“I will always look at jewelry,” Melanie said.
“Maybe Chris needs something for his birthday,” Aubra suggested. “That’s next week.”
“Next week? You didn’t tell us!” Delilah said. “I wonder if Ms. Vanya can bake a cake.”
“No, I don’t need anything,” he insisted. “But maybe Olivia can size her ring finger.”
Her thumb ran over the empty finger at the mention of it. The last time she’d been sized for a ring, Scott had just proposed, and the ring slid all over her finger, threatening to fall off. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to look.”
Remembering Scott’s proposal sent her down the rabbit hole again, wandering back through her memories, gathering pieces, attempting to puzzle together what had happened. Why had he even proposed? They’d met at a faculty function, when she’d been adjuncting at the university where he’d landed a coveted full-time, tenure-track position. He was older than her and held a PhD to her master’s. She knew a community college would offer a more likely chance of permanent employment for her. Still, that first meeting, they’d been the only two singles in the room and naturally gravitated to each other. He’d been charming on top of attractive, his blue eyes nearly electric as he leaned close and spoke in her ear to be heard over the general din. She swore a spark had crackled the air around them, the chemistry so immediate and intense. They’d been convinced it was kismet, meant to be.
Only after they’d married, probably much too quickly, and cohabitated did he begin picking at her incessantly, criticizing her in the most insidious ways. Thinking back, she saw that it started slowly, chipping away at her confidence and her sense of self, but then snowballed until he took control of everything. Always he had a rationalization for his behavior, and always he couched it as for the best. He was “helping” her or “protecting” her. He isolated her to keep others from hearing about and commenting on the situation. She heard Tisha’s voice asking her again if she was sure her husband wasn’t abusive. And it took coming all the way to India and spending time with a gentle soul like Chris for her to recognize it.
She’d been married to an abusive, controlling, emotionally manipulative man who had made himself feel better by tearing her down.
As she shook her thoughts from the past, not sure what to do with this revelation, she noticed three young women followed them through the market as they continued to shop. When they crept closer, Olivia recognized them from speaking to them before. One of them was the young woman who had dashed back and grabbed a pad. They continued to follow and watch the group of teachers but seemed unwilling to speak.
Olivia smiled and invited conversation. “Hi. Did you need something?”
The women threw furtive glances around the street. “We . . . we buy napkin?”
Her jaw fell. “You want to buy some?”
All three nodded, not only the woman who had spoken. Judging by their surreptitious demeanors, you’d think they were attempting to initiate a drug deal.
“Okay! Yes. The girls haven’t designed official packaging yet, but—yes!” No way would she turn down paying customers. Customers had eluded them for so long, she had all but given up on the idea. Why hadn’t they made sales routes and distribution a higher priority? And why hadn’t Navya chosen a name for the product line? Of course, she knew the answer to that—Navya wanted it to be a group decision, not hers alone. And they still lacked an entire team of workers. “Can you go by the building to buy them? Anytime during the week.”
The young women nodded and went their own way.
“Chris, you were right. Judging by how awkward and uncomfortable those women were, having the shop set up away from the main market is way better. I need to have the girls start thinking about sales routes though. How can things move so quickly and so slowly at the same time?”
Tisha smiled and hugged her. “Relax. It will all come together. This is a major turning point. You just got your first customers. Let’s go celebrate by looking at jewelry.”
Olivia could not wait for classes to end. She wanted to go by and check in with Navya and Meena. A few more women had approached them about purchasing pads, and she wanted to make sure they didn’t have any trouble with the sales. They planned to map out door-to-door sales routes to make buying pads as easy as possible. That way, women wouldn’t have to come to them.
The newspaper articles seemed to legitimize the business somewhat. She grudgingly had to admit Aubra had been correct. The publicity was helping indirectly. Noah had sent an interview of Mukesh to news stations and reported it had made it onto the news. That would benefit Mukesh. In fact, they needed to finish up here and let him move on. The attention had sparked interest in additional interviews and additional sales. She would miss Mukesh horribly, but she’d known he wouldn’t stay forever. Knowing more small towns needed him to install machines made her feel a bit better about him leaving. After all, that was the point. This was a good thing. If only she could convince more women to work.
Ms. Vanya and the other teachers went with her to the building to check on Navya and Meena. This time the film crew followed them, documenting the slow acceptance as women opted to use the pads. The two young women met them on foot, headed to the school to find them, faces stricken. Navya spoke to her mother in their native language, Jaanvi balanced on one hip. Olivia didn’t understand a word, but Ms. Vanya gathered her skirt and hurried after her daughter. She quickened her pace, heart thumping. What had happened?
The moment she reached the gap in the wall, her stomach dropped. She stepped back, as if punched in the gut, and sucked in a breath.
Her beautiful little building had been vandalized, words and symbols she couldn’t read spray-painted all over the exterior walls. She was afraid to look inside. Had the machine been torn up? What if all the work had been for nothing?
Chris’s hands drifted to his head. They all stood speechless, while Noah and his crew recorded every moment of their complete shock and devastation.
Then she thought about the two women. “Are you two okay? Were you here? Did someone threaten you? What happened?”
Navya tossed her head. “We went home to lunch. When we came back . . .”
They moved closer to the building, jagged, dripping letters scarring the once-pristine yellow walls.
Mukesh attempted to comfort her. “The door is locked. No windows broken. We can paint over harsh words. Inside is still okay.”
“Is it?” She wouldn’t believe it until she saw with her own eyes.
Navya unlocked the door. Sure enough, the interior was unharmed, the machine untouched. She breathed deeply. The hateful gesture hurt, but it could have been so much worse.
“What does the writing say?” she asked.
“Madam, be glad you cannot read.”
“That bad, huh?”
Ms. Vanya wrung her hands. Navya and Meena were clearly shaken. She looked around for some way to hearten them but fell short. She didn’t know what to do or say to encourage them in the face of such ugliness.
Chris picked up a can of paint left over after the men had finished painting as well as a brush. Olivia had intended to do something with the supplies but could never figure out what to do with them, so they still sat where they’d been left. Silently, Chris carried the can and brush outside, popped the top, dipped in the brush, and dragged the bristles over the graffiti.
They had a total of four brushes, but everyone joined in, taking turns to repaint the building yet again. Her stomach still churned, but at least this way she had something to keep her hands busy.
Mukesh stood by her after they finished one wall and moved to another. “It is nearly Diwali. And to prepare we clean. We will start fresh again. Knowledge will triumph over ignorance.”
He meant well and she appreciated his positive spin and attempt to calm nerves. But she couldn’t bring herself to believe him.
The sound of a scooter stopping outside the cinder-block wall startled them all to stillness. Had the perpetrators returned? Back to wreak more damage? At least they could face them down as a large group this time, though she worried what they would do if things turned violent.
Aditi’s father appeared in the gap in the wall and stopped suddenly. He appeared startled by the large group clustered around the building. Of course. Of course it had been him. And now that he was outnumbered, he didn’t know what to do. Fury, the likes of which she’d never felt before, churned in her stomach. Heat infused her, and it had nothing to do with the sun beating down on them.
She fisted her hands and went to meet him face to face.
“Olivia,” Chris cautioned.
But she didn’t listen. Men who skulked around in secret, tearing down the good others tried to accomplish, holding women down, strangling the life out of them—she couldn’t take it anymore. She may be a guest in this country, but Navya and Meena and Ms. Vanya and countless others like them cried out for help. Enough was enough.
“Did you do this?” she yelled before she even reached him, pointing behind her at the building.
He held up his hands, as if in surrender. “Please.”
Please? Not the reaction she expected. She stood directly in front of him and realized he looked different. Shaken. Upset. But for once not angry.
“I . . . need your help.”
Totally baffled, unsure what to do with her mounting rage in the face of this bizarre turn, she simply stood and waited for an explanation.
Aditi’s father gestured behind him. A woman joined him, her lip bleeding and swollen, her eye a sickening green-black color. She gasped and brought her hands to her mouth. “What happened?”
“My sister.” He placed an arm around the woman’s waist and guided her into Olivia’s arms, which stretched out to receive the battered woman without a conscious thought to do so. “Her husband—”
Aditi’s father appeared ready to break down. He couldn’t finish the sentence, but Olivia had no problem discerning what had happened. She hugged the woman fiercely. “Let’s get you cleaned up and find some ice for your lip.”
The woman, Aditi’s aunt, shuddered against her.
He met her gaze. “You will help?”
No hesitation. “We will help.”
His mouth pursed, and he seemed to struggle, grappling silently with something. “She can work for you?”
Olivia nearly cried. “Yes, yes, of course she can work with us. Of course.”
He pulled a wad of rupees from his pocket and urged them into her hand.
“No. I don’t need your money.”
“You will take.” He glanced at the building. He had not denied involvement but hadn’t admitted to it either. “For my sister. You will keep her safe?”
“We’ve got her.”
“I will speak with the other men. And then I will go see her husband.” The man’s jaw set, and the black look in his eyes left no doubt his brother-in-law would deeply regret lashing out and hurting his wife.
The scooter fired up, and he left for his errand. She led the woman back to the others, who all welcomed her with open arms and comforted her.
Mukesh stood beside her while Ms. Vanya took their newest addition inside to clean her up. “You see? When you shed a light on a problem, people can learn. Someday I hope all India napkin using. But we can only take one step at a time. This was a good step.”
She never would have believed Aditi’s father could turn such an about-face. When she’d challenged him to imagine his wife or daughter in this predicament, he’d been unable to fathom it. Now he didn’t have to imagine. His sister’s abuse at the hands of her husband drove the point home as Olivia never could have.