Birendra could hear they were still arguing when he finished brushing his teeth. He went to the top of the stairs, but he didn’t want to be caught listening, so he went to his room and changed into his pajamas and set aside the book he was going to read to Uncle Eddie. Still no one had come up. He peeked his head out of his room, then returned to the top of the stairs and listened. Now he could hear Uncle Eddie talking. He was asking Mama Maddy to do something, or maybe to not do something. “It’s his birthday,” he said. They were arguing about him. But why? What had he done? Mama Maddy had already been acting strangely, and now she sounded angry. “Is it so much to ask? One night? I haven’t seen anyone in months. They’ve offered to take me out.” It sounded like they were in her office. It grew quiet. He slipped down to the next step. Mama Maddy was saying something, but she was no longer raising her voice. Birendra closed his eyes and listened harder. She said she’d be back tomorrow. He wondered where she was going.
He heard footsteps approaching and almost tripped up the stairs but caught the banister in time. He hurried to his room and got under the covers. He couldn’t stop feeling like he’d done something wrong. He turned on his bedside lamp. The book he’d checked out discussed southern India. When he found it at the library he’d thought of Uncle Eddie, who so often asked questions about Birendra’s life before. He knew he wasn’t supposed to talk about it, but he thought reading this book would be okay.
Uncle Eddie turned off the overhead light and came closer. He was smiling down at Birendra.
“Are you too tired? We can read some tomorrow if you are.”
“No,” he said. And scooted himself over. “I’m not tired.”
Uncle Eddie picked up the book on the bedside table.
“Is this what you want to read?”
“Yeah. I got it for you.”
“For me? Why for me?”
“I don’t know. I thought you would like it.”
Uncle Eddie opened it to the title page.
“And I do,” he said. “That was very thoughtful of you. It’s about your home.”
He nodded. The front door closed downstairs, and he felt Uncle Eddie stiffen.
“Where’s Mama Maddy going?”
“Oh, she’s just going out with some friends. She feels like dancing.” He was smiling now, but his mouth was pinched. “You’re stuck with me tonight, all right?”
“I don’t mind,” he said and smiled at his uncle.
He scooched up a little more and took the book from Uncle Eddie, opening to the beginning. He paused to see if his uncle was ready, then he began to read:
Uncle Eddie placed a finger on the opposite page to study the pictures of Siva.
“So this is one of the many gods?” He pointed to a painting of Siva, blue and dancing in the flames. “You know, you’re a very good reader, Birendra. It’s amazing how quickly you’re losing your accent,” he said. “Not that it’s a bad thing to have one. It’s not. But your English is so fluid now. They say it’s much easier to learn languages when you’re young. Of course, it must have helped you to have an aunt in London.”
Bindi recalled how he and Aunt Nayana used to speak in English on the phone, usually to discuss whatever note or drawing he’d recently sent. Sometimes they talked about school. He remembered what his mother had said about his aunt and uncle when he was writing his report. They were generous.
“Yes,” he said. “They paid for private school for me, and we spoke in English there.”
“What? Who paid for private school?”
He repeated himself, then shifted to look at his uncle. His eyes were big, and he looked really confused. Birendra regretted talking about his aunt now. Maybe the book hadn’t been a good idea. He’d only told the truth. And if he wasn’t supposed to say anything, why did adults ask him questions in the first place?
“Were you and Mama Maddy fighting?”
Uncle Eddie took the book and set it on the nightstand. He pulled the covers up to Birendra’s chin and smiled at him.
“No, not really. We just have different opinions sometimes. It’s normal. Don’t worry—we’ll work it out.”
After Uncle Eddie kissed his forehead, turned off the light, and left the room, Birendra pulled down Ganesh from his shelf, which he hadn’t done since his first nights in America. He felt comforted holding it again and forgot about the angry voices he’d heard as he drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, Uncle Eddie made them scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast. Then they set up the Sega Genesis and played the game, but neither of them was very good. It was sunny and already warm outside, so they decided to swim. Uncle Eddie taught him a fun game called Marco Polo. After a few rounds, they each got on an inflatable bed and floated around the pool. Occasionally they bumped into each other, laughed, then floated apart again. The sun felt good. Uncle Eddie fell asleep for a bit and was worried when he woke up about getting a sunburn, so they went inside and decided to go see the movie that Uncle Eddie had worked on, the one about the dogs.
They tried calling the number for the little black phone Mama Maddy carried in her purse to tell her about the movie, but it was turned off, Uncle Eddie explained, and he left a not-so-nice message. He wore the same frustrated expression he’d had the night before.
“What’s the point of carrying the stupid thing around if it’s not on?”
They took Mama Maddy’s car to the movies. Uncle Eddie checked Birendra’s seat belt at a stoplight, even though they’d already been driving for a while. “You said your parents met in the north, right? In Delhi? And then they later moved to Kerala?”
“Yes. I was born in Trivandrum.”
“That’s in the south, right?”
“Yes.”
He was getting nervous again and wished Uncle Eddie would stop asking so many questions.
“I’m sorry. It seems like you might not want to talk about it. I don’t mean to push you.”
He was torn. Of course he didn’t mind talking about his mother and father and his life in India. He liked it. But Mr. Channar had said he wasn’t supposed to.
“I just don’t want to get in trouble.”
“Birendra, why would you get in trouble?” He looked surprised that Birendra had thought he might. “I want you to be able to share anything with me, remember. Where you came from, what your life was like there. It’s all part of you, and I’d love to learn about it.”
“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell Mama Maddy?”
After a pause, when he was sure he’d seen his uncle’s grip tighten on the steering wheel, Uncle Eddie said, “Can I ask why? Did Mama Maddy say something to you to make you think she didn’t want you to talk about certain things?”
“No, she didn’t,” he replied. “Mr. Channar said that it would make her upset if I talked about it.”
“I’m sorry—who’s that? Mr.…”
“Mr. Channar. Mr. Nair’s cousin, at the orphanage.”
“I see. And Mr. Nair is your uncle is London.”
“No. He was my neighbor in Varkala.”
“Ah, okay. And what is your uncle’s last name?”
He could see it on the envelope, then it was gone.
“It starts with a B,” he said. Why couldn’t he remember? He could see the stamps and parts of the address in his mother’s handwriting on the envelopes he used to bring to the post office in Varkala. And then he remembered his letter, the one he wrote with Mrs. Nair. And now he saw the name he had written. “I remember. It’s Bhatia.”
Uncle Eddie had him spell it, then asked his uncle’s first name and why Birendra thought Mr. Channar told him not to speak of India. Birendra shrugged, afraid to say anything more but also realizing he’d never understood the reason himself, only that it might make him an orphan again.
“Well, I’m pretty sure, Birendra, that Mama Maddy wants you to be comfortable telling her anything as well. She was always a good listener when I was young. Did you know she’s nine years older than I am? She took care of me when I was little.” Uncle Eddie parked and turned off the car. “You know something, B? Adults aren’t always right. Remember that, okay? Sometimes only you can know what’s best for you. You know what I mean?”
Birendra had never imagined overruling an adult before, and he was grateful to his uncle for trying to help him understand. Mr. Channar had thought he’d known what was best for Birendra. But maybe he’d been mistaken.
They stopped at the pay phone outside the movie theater and called Mama Maddy again. Uncle Eddie hung up and swore when the phone took his quarter, then he apologized for swearing.
“It’s okay. Mama Maddy says that all the time.”
“Well, she shouldn’t.”
He tried calling her at home, but no one answered there, either.
“Is she okay?” Birendra asked, feeling his uncle’s anxiety infecting his own.
“Of course she is. I just thought I’d catch her before the movie.” He was talking the way adults do when they don’t want you to worry or know the truth. “I’m sure she’ll be home soon enough, B.”