Olivia heard the buzz of conversation from the dining room even before she opened the door leading into the building. She stopped, hand on the door. Maybe she should just go back to her room. She’d almost stayed there, unsure she could handle meeting new people in her current state. But she remembered reading advice somewhere to adapt as quickly as possible, forcing yourself to try to stay awake during the day and stay in bed at night, even when you found yourself lying in the dark unable to sleep. It also meant eating meals on this side of the Earth’s schedule.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Turning the corner into the dining room, she marveled at the change several exuberant personalities could bring to a space.
“Hey!” Chris called, waving her in to join them. “I saved a seat for you.”
Besides Chris, four young women sat at the table, which was only half full. She didn’t need a saved seat but welcomed his familiar face in the roomful of strangers.
The four women stood, all of them smiling.
“Hey!”
“Welcome!”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Another woman! Five to one, Chris.”
Chris laughed. “I’m strangely okay with this.” He pulled back a chair and motioned for her to sit.
Once they all situated in their places, the woman directly beside her held out a hand. “I’m Watisha. But everyone calls me Tisha. Please do.”
Chris introduced her rapid-fire to the three women sitting across the table from them. “That’s Melanie, Aubra, and Delilah.”
They all greeted her with a wave. She was pretty sure she heard a British accent from one of them when she walked in.
“And then there were six,” one of the women said in a deep south drawl.
Which one was she?
Chris laughed. He seemed to do that a lot. “Delilah was a lit major, so get used to it now. She always has some book quote ready for any situation. Although, I’ll point out in Ten Little Indians, the count decreased, not increased. Six out of ten.”
Delilah pulled a face at him. Delilah. The bookworm with a southern twang. Not the British one. They all stared at her.
“I’m not very quick with names. I hope there won’t be a test later.”
The table erupted in laughter. At least everyone seemed easygoing and friendly. She felt her nerves calm a bit. Working with a nice group of like-minded people would help the six months pass more quickly than working with a group of jerks.
One of the girls—the one with the British accent!—replied, “No, we give you a week to study before we make you sit the exam.”
“That’s Aubra for you,” Chris said. “Always gives plenty of time to study.”
Aubra. The British one. Aubra. She’d get these names down yet.
“The kids’ Indian names will give you more trouble, I bet,” Melanie said. “Just hang on and don’t get frustrated. Like Aubra said, about a week in, you’ll have it down.”
“What did you major in?” Tisha asked.
“I have a master’s degree in English, actually,” she said.
“A Master of English! You’ll have a leg up on us. Have you taught before? Certified teacher?”
She shook her head. “I teach English at community colleges, but . . . well, things changed. Life kind of took an unexpected turn and I thought I could use a change of scenery. So here I am.” Unexpected turn. Understatement of the year. Her mom had pleaded with her to try to maintain normalcy, to apply for the job she’d worked so hard to qualify for. Nothing seemed worth it anymore though. She’d clicked the link to apply for the full-time English faculty position and broke down crying. Nothing felt right. That was her old life, before. Besides, Scott’s skeptical voice continued to ask, “Do you really think you can handle a full-time job?” even though he was gone from her life.
But these people didn’t need to hear her sob story. And the last thing she wanted to do was break down crying in front of a group of strangers. She’d be working with them and didn’t need them to file her as a crazy woman right off the bat.
“You’ve only taught college-level students? Not even high school?”
“That’s right.”
She saw the glances they shared. New dread settled over her. Scott’s residual presence chimed in. Do you really think you can handle teaching? You don’t have any experience.
“Well, this will be different to say the least.”
Concern must have shown on her face. Chris said, “Don’t worry. We’ll all be there, and the kids are eager to learn. You’ll get the hang of it.”
The kitchen door swung open, and Ms. Vanya appeared carrying a platter in her hands.
“Ohhh, biryani.” Chris grinned at her. “She must be celebrating your arrival. This is one of my favorites.”
Cauliflower and potatoes, dotted with cumin seeds and vivid yellow with turmeric, followed. Next came a huge dish of fluorescent-yellow lentil soup, which she’d learned was called dal. And finally, a plate stacked with chapatis—flat, round breads which resembled tortillas.
Tisha leaned over. “She makes those chapatis herself from scratch every night.”
She watched the others scoop servings onto their plates and pass the communal dishes along. Mimicking them, she added a spoonful of everything to her own plate, even when she didn’t think she would much care for it, like the cauliflower and potatoes. Not a fan of cauliflower, she started to pass on it but didn’t want to be rude. Besides, she didn’t see any additional options rounding the table. Her growling stomach prompted her to take two scoops.
“Looks delicious, doesn’t it?” Aubra asked. “Well, tuck in.”
The others dove into their plates. She stared down at hers—flat bread, thick, fluorescent-yellow soup, a rice dish, and the potatoes with cauliflower. She had eaten at Indian restaurants before. Usually tandoori chicken jumped out at her among all the other meat entrees, though she’d sampled many, particularly at buffets. But no such dish circled the table.
“There’s no meat?” she asked.
Chris made a big show of chewing and swallowing his current bite, hand over his mouth. “Very rarely. We can request it, but you’ll probably be happier if you just go vegetarian during your stay. Ms. Vanya can get meat, but it’s expensive and less readily available.”
“And hard to store,” Tisha added. “Since electricity is so sporadic and goes out pretty regularly.”
“It does?” she asked. She hadn’t read anything about that. How had she missed so much important information? Was she so blinded by excitement she hadn’t paid any attention?
“Oh, yeah.” Melanie wrinkled her nose and shuddered a bit. “Without consistent refrigeration, Ms. Vanya has to buy the chicken alive and slaughter it out back. I accidentally happened onto that once. I’ll never eat chicken again.”
Delilah nodded. “I’ve adjusted too. I don’t miss it. But you know, Ms. Vanya was surprised when we reacted so squeamishly to her ‘preparing the chicken’ so I explained how we buy meat back home—how it’s butchered in a factory and packaged before going to the grocery store. Ms. Vanya practically turned green she was so repulsed by the idea that we would buy and eat something we hadn’t prepared ourselves. Who slaughtered it? How old is it? Is it safe to eat? Completely different opinions on the matter.”
“Speaking of the market,” Tisha said, “I remember how empty and dismal my room was when I first moved in. We need to take you shopping.”
“Yes!” Melanie clapped. “We’ll show you all around and get you set up!”
“I need a few things anyway,” Aubra agreed, “but I’d go along regardless. Settling in is a challenge. We’ll help you. Can you go with us, Chris?”
“Of course. I’m happy to help out. We want you ready and in top shape Monday morning when you meet your kids.”
A guy who wanted to go shopping? She found that hard to believe. Scott had always behaved as though she’d suggested they amputate a foot anytime she proposed a shopping excursion. And then he only accompanied her to keep an eye on what she bought and how much she spent. She’d prefer not to have such a stifling presence along. “It’s okay. We can handle the shopping. Aubra, you can drive us, right?”
The other girls exchanged glances.
“Of course I can, but it’s really much better if Chris drives,” Aubra said.
“Girl, didn’t you study up at all?” Tisha asked. “You’re not in America anymore.”
“Well, we won’t be going alone. We’ll be in a group. A group of women is okay, right?”
“We’d be okay together,” Delilah agreed. “But much better with a guy chaperoning us.”
“Chaperoning? Are you serious?” The last thing she wanted right now was to rely on any guy for any reason.
“Only when you go outside the school,” Chris said. “It’s just a safety precaution. You know, better safe than sorry and all that.”
Aubra frowned. “It’s more than that. A woman driving, particularly in a small town like this, is such an unusual sight, we would attract a lot of unwanted attention. We already stick out like sore thumbs. Trust me. You don’t want that.”
“What kind of attention? What do you mean?”
“This culture doesn’t accept women drivers. People would shout at us. Other drivers would be aggressive and maybe even try to run us off the road. If a woman drives the speed limit, she’s assumed to be timid and uncomfortable behind the wheel. If she speeds, she’s reckless and doesn’t know how to handle a vehicle or follow rules. It’s best if Chris takes us.”
She stared at them, dumbfounded, waiting for someone to say, “Just kidding!” and the entire group to burst out laughing at the joke. But not a hint of amusement glimmered in a single eye. They were completely serious. She didn’t expect to drive during the course of her stay. She’d read how easily one could find a taxi or, even more economically, an autorickshaw (tuk-tuk, as they were called in the country—she’d learned that at least). Walking around alone as a single woman was highly discouraged, she got that. But no female drivers? Something about that shocked her, illuminating yet another way how completely unprepared for this trip she’d been.
“I didn’t read anything like that. I did research. I did try to prepare—”
“We learned the hard way,” Aubra said. “I tried to drive us once. Never again. I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life.”
“But I’m here,” Chris said. “And I worked hard to learn to drive on the wrong side of the road—”
“You mean you finally learned to drive properly,” Aubra corrected him.
“Ummm, we invented the automobile, so we definitely drive the right way,” Chris said. “We got to make the rules since we made the first car. Not sure why you Brits ‘mucked it up,’ as you say.”
Aubra’s jaw tightened, and her eyes narrowed. Olivia sensed this was no longer all in good fun.
Tisha patted her hand. “It’s okay. I promise. The good things here in India totally outweigh the adjustments we need to make.”
The others nodded.
“You’ll see.”
“Wait till you meet the kids! They’re amazing.”
She nodded, trying hard to quell the anxiety gnawing at her stomach. She’d eaten every bite from her plate. The food sat heavily, hunger replaced by unease.
When the others cleared their dishes, she followed suit. Ms. Vanya took away the communal dishes and platters.
Delilah blew out the candles. “‘To bed. To bed. To bed.’”
“Don’t quote Lady M!” Aubra looked shocked. “That’s bad luck.”
“Only in a theatre,” Delilah corrected her.
“It’s rather early for bed, though,” Chris said. “You guys want to hang out? Olivia?”
“No, thank you. I think I’ll go back to my room.” Although what she would do there, she had no idea.
“At least come to my room for some chocolate,” Aubra insisted.
“Oh, yeah!” Tisha said. “Her parents send her Cadbury chocolates from England. Come have some!”
“No fair!” Chris said. “I can’t go over to your place.”
“You’ve had plenty!” Aubra said. “I’ll bring you some tomorrow. Tonight is all about Olivia.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast before we shop.”
Olivia allowed herself to be pulled across the courtyard by the other girls, enveloped by a horrible sense that she’d made a terrible mistake.