The Weight of Heaven by Thrity Umrigar Read Free Book Online Page A

want
    this man as an enemy. Forcing himself to lighten his tone, he said,
    “Anyway. It’s a shitty situation, but we’ll have to face up to it. I’ll
    back you in this. And you’ll just owe me big, won’t you?”
    Gulab looked puzzled at this last, unfamiliar Americanism.
    Then, he nodded. “I’m in your debt, sir.” He opened his mouth to
    say more, but just then there was a knock on the door.
    “Come in,” Frank called, and Deepak Mehta, Frank’s second-incommand, walked in. “Hi, Frank,” he said, ignoring Gulab. “What
    a tragedy, hah? I just now only got the news. Roads were bad, but I
    came as quickly as I could.”
    “You shouldn’t have come in at all, Deepak. I could’ve handled
    it.” Frank realized that he had not even thought of calling Deepak.
    You’re not thinking clearly, he chastised himself. You’ve got to do
    better than this.
    “Nonsense. Wouldn’t think of letting you deal with this alone.
    Have you seen the crowd at the gate? There’s about fifty people
    there. Including the mother.”
    “What mother?”
    Deepak blinked. “Why, the man’s—that is, Anand’s mother.”
    “She’s outside the factory?”
    “Yah. I got out and talked to her. But she’s not satisfied. She
    wants to talk to you, only.”
    Frank blanched, and from the slightest movement of Gulab’s
    head, he knew that the man had seen his fear. But he was beyond
    caring. The thought of meeting Anand’s mother, of answering her
    accusations, of looking her in the eye, was beyond what he could
    physically do. He knew his limits. Less than two years ago, he had
    attended his own son’s funeral, had avoided eye contact with another
    3 8 Th r i t y U m r i g a r
    bereaved mother, who happened to be his own wife. He couldn’t do
    it. He couldn’t.
    “Frank,” Deepak was saying. “It will probably help a lot if you
    could, y’know, go out and address the crowd. Say a few sorrys to
    the mother.”
    “I can’t.” Instinctively, Frank turned to Gulab for support. The
    man was staring at Frank in fascination, as if he was solving a puzzle.
    Slowly, a look of understanding spread across his face. But Frank
    was too anguished to register much of this. He felt like a cornered
    animal, actually rubbing his hand over his neck, where he felt the
    unmistakable bite of a noose being tightened.
    “It’s customary here.” Deepak seemed oblivious to Frank’s discomfort. “Mark of respect. You have to pay condolence to—”
    “Deepak babu,” Gulab said, jutting out his right arm as if to
    stop the flow of words. “Not a good idea for Frank sahib to face the
    crowd tonight. Maybe we can give the mother a few hundred rupees
    and send her home tonight. Later on, we shall see.”
    Deepak’s mouth tightened. “A twenty-two-year-old boy has
    died here,” he said. “I don’t think a few hundred rupees will appease
    the mother.”
    Gulab laughed. There was something dismissive and frightening about his laugh, and it had the desired effect. Deepak looked
    uncertainly from one man to the other. “I’ll deal with those junglee
    villagers outside, sahib,” Gulab said. “Once they see that both of
    you have left, they will leave, also. And I’m going to make arrangements for both of you to leave from the back road, okay? No need to
    face that crowd again.” Although he was addressing both of them,
    his eyes bore into Frank’s, who sensed that a subtle, imperceptible
    shift had occurred between him and Gulab, that Gulab had spotted
    some essential weakness in him and was protecting him.
    “Okay,” Frank said. His mouth was dry, his voice weak.
    Gulab shot him another look. “I’ll go find your driver,” he said
    and left the room.
    Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n
    3 9
    “What the hell is going on, Frank?” Deepak turned to him as
    soon as Gulab was out of the door. “What are we going to do?”
    “It turns out the boy had some kind of heart condition. Being
    in jail probably stressed him out. It’s very