Read Online The Weight of Heaven by Thrity Umrigar - Free Book Online
Authors: Thrity Umrigar
Tags: Fiction, General, Bereavement, Family & Relationships, Americans, Psychological, Psychological fiction, Crime, Death; Grief; Bereavement, Family Life, Murder, Adoption, Married People, India, Americans - India
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as Dr. Roberts had asked her to, before she
decided to get a few hours’ sleep? With the plea that he understand
that she was a mother, yes, but also a human being caught in the
normal, mortal needs of sleep, hunger, fatigue? With the accusation
that if he’d not been on a business trip to Thailand, there would’ve
been two of them to watch over their sleeping son? With the simple
truth that when she’d retired to her room, the aspirin seemed to
have worked—Benny’s fever was under control, and there was not
a trace of the rash that would spread like an evil lace over his body
a few hours later?
There was no answer to a question like that. And the mortification she saw on Frank’s face made clear that there was no need for
her to answer, that even if she’d tried, her reply would’ve been covered up by his stricken, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean that. I
don’t know where that came from.”
She thought she’d buried that memory, but when in the days following Anand’s death Frank gave her that same blank look, Ellie
found it hard to play the role of the loving, supportive wife. Also,
India had changed Frank. Ever since the labor unrest began, he came
home day after day railing about how slow the workers were, com-Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n
4 9
plaining about their lousy work ethic and their lack of initiative, his
voice brittle with contempt. The final straw came when Frank had
missed a day of work because of the stomach flu and found out the
next day that they had all taken the afternoon off because nobody
could figure out how to fix one of the machines that broke down and
disrupted the production line. “Can you friggin’ believe it, Ellie?”
Frank had cried. “Even the foreman acted all helpless, like he’d
never heard the word repair in his life. These people have no concept
of deadlines or meeting orders. God, what a country.”
It was that last comment, that generalization that indicted a billion people, that had made the words shoot out of Ellie’s mouth,
“Well, if you paid them a little better, maybe they’d care more.”
Frank had turned on her, his eyes wide with hurt. “You can’t help
yourself, can you? It’s a bad habit, right, always siding with others
against me?”
The memory of that hurt made Ellie watch what she said to
Frank this time. We’re all alone in this country, she said to herself a
hundred times a day. I’m all he has here. She had been lucky to have
formed a friendship with Nandita that had in short order become as
strong as any friendship she had in Michigan. Nandita had talked
her into volunteering at the NIRAL health clinic and school, which
she did several days a week. From the moment they had landed in
Girbaug, Ellie had felt at home here, seen something on the faces
of the local women that felt timeless and universal to her, seen in
those brown, sunbaked faces the faces of her own sister, mother,
and aunts, although she knew that her ruddy-faced Irish-American
family would be shocked if she ever told them this. The fact was,
India fit Ellie like a garment cut to size. Frank, she knew, found the
garment too tight and oppressive, and she was sorry for him.
In the beginning, she had hoped that Frank and Nandita’s husband Shashi would form a close friendship, and indeed the men
spent some time bicycling together and playing table tennis at
Shashi’s bungalow. But somehow the friendship didn’t take. Frank
5 0 Th r i t y U m r i g a r
found Shashi too mild, not competitive enough, and Shashi—well,
it was hard to know what Shashi really thought of Frank. He always
seemed happy enough to see him, but there was a faint air of superiority in the way Shashi carried himself that made Frank grouse.
Once, when the labor trouble at HerbalSolutions was first heating
up, Frank had tried talking to Shashi about it.
“So how does one handle the labor situation in India, Shash?”
he’d asked. “Any
decided to get a few hours’ sleep? With the plea that he understand
that she was a mother, yes, but also a human being caught in the
normal, mortal needs of sleep, hunger, fatigue? With the accusation
that if he’d not been on a business trip to Thailand, there would’ve
been two of them to watch over their sleeping son? With the simple
truth that when she’d retired to her room, the aspirin seemed to
have worked—Benny’s fever was under control, and there was not
a trace of the rash that would spread like an evil lace over his body
a few hours later?
There was no answer to a question like that. And the mortification she saw on Frank’s face made clear that there was no need for
her to answer, that even if she’d tried, her reply would’ve been covered up by his stricken, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean that. I
don’t know where that came from.”
She thought she’d buried that memory, but when in the days following Anand’s death Frank gave her that same blank look, Ellie
found it hard to play the role of the loving, supportive wife. Also,
India had changed Frank. Ever since the labor unrest began, he came
home day after day railing about how slow the workers were, com-Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n
4 9
plaining about their lousy work ethic and their lack of initiative, his
voice brittle with contempt. The final straw came when Frank had
missed a day of work because of the stomach flu and found out the
next day that they had all taken the afternoon off because nobody
could figure out how to fix one of the machines that broke down and
disrupted the production line. “Can you friggin’ believe it, Ellie?”
Frank had cried. “Even the foreman acted all helpless, like he’d
never heard the word repair in his life. These people have no concept
of deadlines or meeting orders. God, what a country.”
It was that last comment, that generalization that indicted a billion people, that had made the words shoot out of Ellie’s mouth,
“Well, if you paid them a little better, maybe they’d care more.”
Frank had turned on her, his eyes wide with hurt. “You can’t help
yourself, can you? It’s a bad habit, right, always siding with others
against me?”
The memory of that hurt made Ellie watch what she said to
Frank this time. We’re all alone in this country, she said to herself a
hundred times a day. I’m all he has here. She had been lucky to have
formed a friendship with Nandita that had in short order become as
strong as any friendship she had in Michigan. Nandita had talked
her into volunteering at the NIRAL health clinic and school, which
she did several days a week. From the moment they had landed in
Girbaug, Ellie had felt at home here, seen something on the faces
of the local women that felt timeless and universal to her, seen in
those brown, sunbaked faces the faces of her own sister, mother,
and aunts, although she knew that her ruddy-faced Irish-American
family would be shocked if she ever told them this. The fact was,
India fit Ellie like a garment cut to size. Frank, she knew, found the
garment too tight and oppressive, and she was sorry for him.
In the beginning, she had hoped that Frank and Nandita’s husband Shashi would form a close friendship, and indeed the men
spent some time bicycling together and playing table tennis at
Shashi’s bungalow. But somehow the friendship didn’t take. Frank
5 0 Th r i t y U m r i g a r
found Shashi too mild, not competitive enough, and Shashi—well,
it was hard to know what Shashi really thought of Frank. He always
seemed happy enough to see him, but there was a faint air of superiority in the way Shashi carried himself that made Frank grouse.
Once, when the labor trouble at HerbalSolutions was first heating
up, Frank had tried talking to Shashi about it.
“So how does one handle the labor situation in India, Shash?”
he’d asked. “Any
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