Christmas with the Bhatias, despite her prickly relationship with her mother-in-law, was something Nayana looked forward to—usually. It was naturally a pleasure to watch her niece open presents, especially as Jasmeen grew older—she was six now—and knew the gifts were for her. She was overjoyed by each toy, every dress. And watching Ramesh enjoy his niece was itself a treat, even if Nayana knew how badly he wished they were watching a child of their own. Today he smiled freely, even if Nayana found herself out of sorts. In the end, Ramesh was delighted by her pregnancy, and she tried to accept this. Her betrayal was her cross to bear alone, at least for now. Christmas Day was always an easy time for Nayana to imagine a future in which her sister and nephew were part of the festivities, together with Nayana and Ramesh in London, and maybe one more. She’d so hoped her sister would call that morning, before she and Ramesh had to leave the flat. It wasn’t that she would have confessed anything to Aditi, but she would have felt a little less alone now with Ramesh’s family. Without their holiday phone call, she was incomplete and found it hard to daydream.
And so she smiled at her niece, but she thought of India. One way or another, she needed to go home, sooner rather than later. In her most recent letter, Aditi hadn’t sounded ready for a move, but maybe it was time to discuss bringing them over. Selling their parents’ flat in Delhi, if necessary. Maybe she was just waiting for Nayana to say so. To persuade her. To come in person and help her find the strength to say good-bye to the home she’d shared with Srikant, to give her permission to suggest selling their childhood home.
Her sister-in-law and Mrs. Bhatia retreated to the kitchen, taking Jasmeen with them. Ramesh and Raj went to watch the football match on television. Nayana remained with her book in the den. Years ago, she would have followed the women, trying to contribute, if only on holidays. But that was over now. She no longer cared to be told she couldn’t chop an onion right or keep a sauce from separating. And it distressed Nayana to watch Tahira have to bite her tongue upon hearing the aspersions their mother-in-law cast in a tongue only they shared. Nayana may not have always understood what was being said, but she knew it was a criticism of her childlessness as much as her cooking skills. It helped, wielding a secret today, like a shield against her mother-in-law’s disapproving gaze. Tahira, on the other hand, could do no wrong in Mrs. Bhatia’s eyes. And Jasmeen was perfect, of course. Raj, too, except for the fact that he was the second son, and his ideal little family was eclipsing that of her firstborn. The words on the page fell under a shadow. Ramesh was leaning over her, kissing the top of her head. She closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss.
“Are you sure we can’t tell them?” he whispered.
She smiled up at him, relieved to see him genuinely in such good spirits. Still, she shook her head gently. Jasmeen had joined them now.
“Will you tell me a story, Auntie?”
Like Nayana, Jasmeen preferred stories to helping in the kitchen. This felt like a small victory won against her mother-in-law.
“Come sit on my lap. I’ll tell you a story about two little girls, not much older than you, living far, far away in a place called Delhi.”
“The capital of India!” Jasmeen said, proud to know it.
Ramesh chuckled. She reached for his hand. He took hers, kissed it, and left the room. Jasmeen set to work on Nayana’s hair as she often did—she loved how long it was—her delicate fingers strumming it like so many harp strings.
“Yes, in India, a place where two sisters were once blessed with amazing powers.”
“Powers?” repeated Jasmeen, as much an expression of awe as a question.
“Yes, and these two little girls were twins. Many said that was bad luck, especially their evil stepmother, but the two girls thought differently. With one look, they knew each other’s thoughts. This allowed them to communicate without speaking, using only their minds, and to make awful jokes about the wicked woman. One day, their stepmother grew tired of their sudden bursts of laughter and locked them up, each in a different part of the castle where they lived.”
“Were they princesses?”
“Yes, they were, but the evil queen had charmed their father so he didn’t know how awfully she treated his daughters. As she locked each girl away, she promised to keep them apart forever, hidden from the rest of the world, and especially from their father, the king.”
“What did they do?”
“Oh, they were scared, and lonely, and they cried and cried, but no one heard them. The queen had been cunning and found parts of the castle where others didn’t go. One day, Princess Aditi got an idea. Maybe she and her sister could still use their powers to talk to each other, she thought. She was always the first to have a good idea. Her sister thought it was because Aditi was thirteen minutes younger and had learned something important in that brief time alone in their mother’s womb, something her thirteen-minute-older sister might never understand. It was Aditi who had discovered their powers and shown her sister how to use them in the first place. But once they were separated, her sister could not hear Aditi. She could only hear herself crying, alone in the abandoned broom closet where she’d been locked away. Finally she cried herself to sleep, and, in dreaming, was reunited with Aditi, who told her if she concentrated very hard, they could still use their powers to communicate. When they awoke the next morning, each in her faraway corner of the castle, they tested their powers until they could easily hear each other once again. They were so happy not to be alone, but soon enough they remembered they were still hidden from the rest of the world.”
“Forever?” asked Jasmeen, apparently horrified at the thought. Nayana suddenly wasn’t sure. Where was her story leading? How was she going to turn things around? Jasmeen stopped playing with Nayana’s hair and stared wide-eyed up at her aunt, desperate, it seemed, to learn the fate of the girls. Nayana caressed her face and smiled.
“No, not forever, my dear.” Jasmeen’s relief was palpable. “You see, once again Princess Aditi had an idea. The sisters had a cousin whose name was Jasmeen, and she was the most beautiful princess in all of India. She lived in a faraway place in southern India called Kerala.”
“I’m a princess, too?”
Nayana told her she was, and a brave one, who, while sleeping, dreamed of her cousins in Delhi. The cousins told her what their stepmother had done, that she’d locked them away from their father. They begged Princess Jasmeen to make the long journey north to their palace, where she could save them and expose the wicked queen. “‘But,’ they warned their cousin, ‘you must be very careful with our stepmother, for she is dangerous and truly evil.’”
“I’m a princess, too!” Jasmeen announced to Ramesh, who had reentered the room, now carrying two beers on his way to rejoin Raj in the TV room.
“Yes, you are,” he said.
“Did I save the princesses?” asked Jasmeen, eager to return to the tale.
“That’s right. You traveled many, many miles, and you visited your uncle, the king of Delhi, King Ramesh,” she said, looking back the way Ramesh had gone and hearing him chuckle.
“What did the king do?”
“Well, he found his daughters, and he banished the wicked queen far away to a place called London, where she’s rumored to still be alive, torturing everyone around her because she’s a miserable old witch.”
Tahira called for Jasmeen from the kitchen. Jasmeen looked at Nayana, her eyes wide once again with fear. She whispered, “The evil queen lives in London, Auntie?”
“Yes, darling, but I will protect you. Now go and do what your mother tells you.”
Nayana got up from the chair as well, leaving her book behind, and followed after Ramesh. He and Raj were seated on the floor, in front of the sofa, shouting at the football players on the screen. She wanted to be alone with Ramesh. She needed to be in his arms, right now.
“Ram, can you help me a minute?” she asked.
He turned from the television, then back just as quickly, as if he’d miss something in that instant. “What is it, jaanu?”
“I just need your help for a moment.” He looked at her again. In the bathroom, she mouthed and pointed, then turned, leaving him perplexed.
She left the door cracked and hoisted herself onto the bathroom counter. The door opened, and Ramesh looked panicked. He went to her, his hands searching her body for the problem, passing from her shoulders to her waist and finally resting at her knees.
“What is it?” he said. “Is something the matter?”
She’d scared him without meaning to.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
“What? Jaanu?”
“Kiss me,” she repeated.
His head fell against her chest, and he sighed. She ran her fingers through his hair, inhaled his scent.
“My God, woman, you scared me half to death.” He looked back at the door, pushed it closed. “What’s gotten into you?”
She pulled him close, sliding his hands to her waist again. She kissed him, and his fingers traced the length of her torso. Her head released to the mirror behind her, and Ramesh buried his face in her neck. There was love between them, and a future, and this seemed to demand at least a little hope.
“Happy Christmas, Ram,” she said, and then she kissed him again.