The power had been out for five days. Olivia’s frustration grew to the point she wanted to throw her head back and scream into the sky. She knew that would accomplish nothing, but the helplessness was infuriating. The warm temperatures coupled with thick humidity left a slick sheen of sweat on her skin. Her clothing clung to her, her armpits itched, and her hair hung limply, growing sadder and oilier by the day. No amount of brushing helped as that simply spread the oils around.
The first day, never anticipating the outage would last and last as no previous outage had, she had bucked up and taken a quick, lukewarm shower. Now her hot water heater hung on the wall, powerless and dark. And she couldn’t stand the thought of a cold shower, however brief. At first, they’d all made an adventure of it, joking and teasing, making light of the situation. Today, no one could muster so much as a smile. Weary of cold water and complete darkness, they’d grown cranky and got on each other’s nerves.
The one constant turned out to be Ms. Vanya’s meals. Somehow she’d kept them all fed like normal. Breakfast wasn’t too difficult, considering they had corn flakes and fruits most days. But she’d even managed toast for them. She must have a gas stove back in her kitchen, Olivia mused, watching her deliver their evening meal.
They heaped plates and “tucked in” as Aubra liked to say. Silence continued, other than clanking silverware and chewing, which Olivia realized kind of got on her nerves.
Chris swallowed a bite and finally spoke. “Guys, we have to get out of here. Let’s walk down to the market after dinner. Or go see the building again. I’ll bet we can move forward with plans to clean up and paint it. Right?”
Tisha nodded. “You know you’re bored and stir crazy when cleaning and painting an old building sounds like a good idea.”
“I’m in!” Aubra declared, helping herself to another chapati. “Although the film crew will be here this weekend. Shall we make sure they get a little ‘before’ footage? As much as I like the idea of having it ready to go, I think showing the entire process from beginning to end would be more dynamic.”
“Mukesh,” Olivia said, “it’s your time we’re wasting. What do you think? I feel so bad we lost power right after you arrived. Nothing has really moved forward, and you’ve been here nearly a week. I thought we would have the machine working by now.” Frustration at the snail’s pace grew by the day.
As always, Mukesh wobbled his head good-naturedly and seemed to pat the air in front of him. “We have the building. We have done good things.”
Like Chris, he always found the bright side. And he was right—with a man at her side, Rahul had felt better about selling the property to her, less concerned about the pressure from local men, suspicious of the American woman and her motives. Good things had happened. But excruciatingly slowly.
“Maybe today is the day we track down Meena and talk to her about working for you,” Delilah suggested.
She squirmed. “They won’t really be working for me,” she said for about the eight thousandth time. That’s how it felt to her at least. “I’m not going to run the business. The women will. They’ll be working for themselves.”
Delilah waved away the stipulation. “You know what I mean.”
“And maybe we can try to approach some other women while we’re out at the market,” Melanie suggested.
“Anything would be better than just sitting here, waiting and wondering when the electricity will come back on,” she said, feeling better than she had in days. The others looked refreshed at the prospect of a project to tackle as well.
After making the decision, they devoted all their attention to devouring dinner. Ms. Vanya still refused help with clean up, no matter how they cajoled and pointed out they needed her help on their mission—Mukesh argued quite adamantly and gave up last—and shooed them all away to get ready to go visiting.
“She does have a point,” Delilah said as they crossed the courtyard. “We want to look our best when we go calling.”
“Agreed,” Olivia said. “We want to look our most professional if we want to impress.”
“And persuade them to take a chance,” Melanie said.
Olivia lifted a lock of stringy hair. “I won’t look my best when we have no power and can’t clean up. My face is completely broken out. But I’ll do what I can.”
They ducked into their rooms. Olivia lit candles so she could see at least a bit in the bathroom, then peeled off the sticky, sweaty clothes she’d worn several days in a row now and stared at the lifeless water heater on the bathroom wall. No amount of wishing would change a thing, so she sucked in a breath, gritted her teeth, flipped on the cold water, and ducked under the showerhead. Her teeth chattered as she set an all-time record for shortest shower ever. She even marathon-washed her hair before quick-scrubbing her face, armpits, under the breasts, and crotch. She dove back in to power-rinse from top to bottom.
Shivering, but invigorated, she turned off the water and wrapped in a towel. Relieved to have rinsed away the grime, she actually felt much better, now that the painful part was over. She selected the least-worn shalwar kameez from the clothesline “closet” and pulled it on. After combing out her hair and donning her toe-loop sandals she loved so much, she was ready to present her plan and recruit new workers.
She went back to the dining room to wait for the others, who drifted in one by one.
Melanie took one look at her and shook her head. “Seriously? You washed your hair? Glutton for punishment.”
Once everyone appeared and Ms. Vanya emerged from the kitchen, they set off on foot. The dry dirt scrunched, their feet sending up little puffs of dust with each step. Olivia thought of Pigpen from the old Peanuts cartoons, the character who walked around unwashed in a cloud of dirt. At least she’d managed to shower off.
“And we can simply show up unannounced?” she asked Ms. Vanya once they’d set off on their evening promenade.
“No problem, Miss Olivia. No power. Everyone walks and visits.”
They discovered the truth of the woman’s words soon enough. People wandered up and down the sidewalks, children darted through the streets, clusters of families gathered and chatted. Every house they passed, someone greeted them from the front door, waving and calling out. The market brimmed with meandering browsers, not like the Saturday market where people bustled from one destination to the next, intent on completing purchases.
“Where can we find single women who might want to work?”
“Not easy,” Mukesh told her.
“The fathers will not let them out alone,” Ms. Vanya said.
“At university,” Mukesh said. “That is where I found medical students to help me develop my napkins. They tried out and told me if they worked.”
“Is there a university around here?”
“Kerala Uni,” Aubra said. “But that’s hours away.”
“That defeats the purpose. We want local women from the town to run the business.”
“Let’s stick with the plan and start by asking Meena,” Delilah said.
“Would Navya come with us?” she asked Ms. Vanya. “She could encourage Meena to listen to us, maybe get her excited to work with other ladies.”
Ms. Vanya shook her head and gestured to her face. “She will not come out.”
“I hate that she’s so upset by her scars,” she said. “They’re not her fault. And she’s still beautiful.”
Ms. Vanya made a dismissive gesture. Clearly only Navya could change her mind.
Tisha bumped her with an elbow. “Hmmm.”
“What? What was that for?”
The woman lifted an eyebrow and shrugged.
Was she implying the same thing applied to her? But her case was completely different. Wasn’t it?
“Auntie! Auntie! Ms. Montag!”
A small body darted across the street and launched itself at her, wrapping arms around her waist in a fierce hug. She knew who it was, even with the face buried in her abdomen. “Aditi! Hello! How are you?”
“Aditi!”
Oh, no. She knew that voice. Her stomach fell. Aditi’s father stomped across the street, his pregnant wife and toddler daughter trailing in his wake.
“I do not wish for you to speak to my daughter,” he said.
“I—uhhh . . .” The bizarre demand scrambled her thoughts so completely that she couldn’t form a reply.
“You give her bad ideas.”
“Bad ideas?” She gathered her wits. “Like what?”
“She can stay in school. She can do magic. She can be a doctor.”
“Wait a minute, I never told her she can do magic. That book is only for fun, something to challenge her because she reads so well. She’s very advanced.”
He seemed startled by her reply. It was his turn to be rendered speechless.
“And she can be a doctor, but only if she stays in school.”
“And what are you doing to our town?”
Oh, good. He’d recovered his voice. “I’m not doing anything to your town.”
“You stir up trouble. You buy a building and try to steal women from their homes.”
“Steal—” She took a deep breath. Getting worked up would not help the situation. “I am only trying to help women. I’m not stealing anyone.”
“He”—he jabbed a finger toward Mukesh—“spoke to my wife. Showed her . . . private things.”
She pursed her lips tightly, struggling not to guffaw and further inflame the situation. But seriously, private things? He made poor Mukesh sound like an exhibitionist. The idea caught her off guard and cracked her up. What would happen when she started showing “private things” in hopes the women of the town would purchase and use them? Oh, boy.
“He only wants to help women—”
Ms. Vanya stepped in, rattling off rapid-fire sentences she couldn’t understand.
Aditi’s father backed off, but only a little. “We do not want your help!”
“I respect your decision. And if you refuse to allow Aditi to come back to school, refuse to safeguard her health with sanitary products from our machine, that’s your decision. But you don’t get to decide for the other girls and women in town.”
She hugged Aditi again before her father pulled her away. She kept her poise until they’d moved out of sight, then, legs quivering, she let out a huge breath. The incident left her shaken, feeling weak and out of her league.
“You okay?” Tisha asked.
“What a jerk!” Chris said.
“I’m fine. I’m just no good at confrontation.”
“That was pretty mild, hon,” Delilah said. “Don’t let it get to you.”
“I know, but that’s easier said than done. Should we still go see Meena? Am I an idiot for thinking this will work?”
“Hell, no!” Chris said. “Don’t let that guy discourage you. He’s one crank. You have all of us on your side.”
She smiled and took another breath. He so rarely cursed. He must really mean it.
Ms. Vanya led them to a house similar to her own in size and appearance. They let her greet Meena’s mom, who appeared flustered by the flock of foreigners congregating on her stoop. But she allowed them inside. The interior of the home also resembled the one Ms. Vanya lived in—a simple sitting room, incense curling smoke toward the ceiling, a kitchen off to one side, a toilet room, and a hall leading, presumably, to a bedroom or two. The furnishings were a bit more worn, and Olivia had the impression Ms. Vanya’s brother-in-law had a little more money than Meena’s family. Which made sense, considering he’d had property for sale.
Meena’s father sat on the couch. His eyes widened as they paraded in. Since the sitting room didn’t offer enough seats for all of them, they stood—and even then barely fit. Meena also sat on the couch, pressed into the corner at the end, feet tucked up under her, stitching clothing. Unlike her father, whose face twisted in confusion, recognition dawned in Meena’s eyes at the sight of her former fellow teachers. But her brow wrinkled when her gaze landed on Olivia.
When everyone stood awkwardly, no one speaking, Olivia decided this was her rodeo and started the conversation. “Hello. We would like to speak with Meena.”
Her father shrugged and gestured to her. Meena set aside her sewing and stood. “Hello.”
The other teachers greeted her with hugs and asked how she was. Quiet and shy, Meena demurred.
“I’m Olivia.” She held out her hand. Meena shook it, still appearing completely confused.
Ms. Vanya spoke to Mukesh in their native language. He tipped his head, agreeing with whatever she said to him. “We will explain,” she told them, much to Olivia’s relief.
Mukesh presented their case for them. Olivia couldn’t help but smile, watching his fervent, animated delivery. She almost believed she could understand him simply from his emphatic gestures, though she couldn’t translate a single word. How could anyone not be swayed by his total conviction to this cause?
She turned to see Meena’s father’s reaction and was dismayed to discover a scowl hardening his face.
Meena’s mother entered the room, bearing a tray of tea. Only six cups rested on the tray, probably every teacup she owned. Ms. Vanya and Mukesh accepted drinks and thanked their hosts. Meena’s father gestured to the remaining cups. Chris insisted the women take the remaining four.
Again, Olivia led the way, since they were all here on her behalf and she didn’t want to insult anyone. Delilah didn’t mind joining Chris in not partaking. “I like sweet tea, but not with all that heavy spice in it.”
Meena’s father slurped loudly in the silence as they all awaited his response. He took his time before he answered. Even though she couldn’t understand the words he spoke, Olivia could tell he was denying permission for Meena to come work. Why? Why would he do such a thing? What negative could he possibly see in his daughter earning money and being able to support herself? He was denying her a future. She stepped forward, ready to explain more clearly why this was so important and such a good thing for Meena. Chris held an arm out, discouraging her from proceeding.
Mukesh nodded toward the man and thanked him for the tea and his time. Ms. Vanya’s head hung, but she also acknowledged the decision, though it wasn’t to their liking.
Olivia had no choice but to allow them to lead her out of the house. She glanced over her shoulder as she walked out the door. Meena stared at the ground, hope once again shattered.
As disappointed as Olivia felt for herself—would she ever convince anyone to work?—she felt worse for having dangled possibility in front of Meena, only to have it snatched away.