months they’d lived in Kahala. He never heard them fight in Niu Valley—that old house was so small that his parents couldn’t pee without him hearing it.
Jaya wondered if bigger houses meant bigger problems for grown-ups. He thought about this as he crept quietly downstairs.
The shouting was coming from the kitchen. Jaya ducked behind a nearby wall. He poked his head out and spied.
His father was finally home. He’d been gone since last night. Jaya studied his mother.
Jayshree’s chest expanded like a tire being inflated as she took a slow inhale. She let go of her breath, spitting out words. “Third time, Sanjay! Third time this month you don’t come home!”
Sanjay gripped the counter. “So?”
“So?” Jayshree shrieked. “Did you forget what today is?”
Sanjay’s right eye twitched.
“It’s your daughter’s tenth birthday!”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Jayshree crossed her arms. She scowled and shook her head, marching over to him. She lifted the collar of his white dress shirt. “What’s this? Lipstick?”
Sanjay flung her hand away. He pushed his tongue around in his mouth.
Jayshree leaned in. She took a whiff of his breath. “Dharu,” she said in the voice of an investigator at a crime scene.
“Shut up, Jayshree!” Sanjay said. “I give you everything. You should be happy.” He whisked around but swayed. He regained his balance, then stomped out of the kitchen.
Jaya waited for his mother to storm after him. That’s what she’d done the last couple of fights. But she didn’t move. Her shoulders dropped. Her chin fell. She reminded Jaya of a sad Gumby. And her sadness scared Jaya. Sadness was something he thought only he felt. Something only he should feel.
His mother buried her head in her hands, whimpering.
Jaya pressed his forehead into the wall. His mind raced with ways he could help her.
Give her a hug. Tell her everything will be okay. Fix her a glass of juice. Ask if she’s hungry.
He took a step towards her but stopped when she began darting around the kitchen. She rushed over to the pantry first, yanking the doors open and pulling out bags of chips and cookies. She tossed them onto the counter. Then she raced to the refrigerator. She stuck her head in to do a quick survey of each shelf. She settled on the German chocolate cake. Jaya’s German chocolate cake. The one she’d bought from his favorite bakery in Manoa for his birthday gathering that evening. She’d invited their new, rich adult acquaintances since Jaya hadn’t made any friends at Manoa Prep yet.
Jayshree eyed the bottle of red wine at the end of the counter. She grabbed it and twisted off the cap.
Jaya stared in disbelief as she took a long gulp. She slammed the bottle down. She tore open all the packages of food. She opened a drawer and picked out a serving spoon. One deep breath later, she began gorging. She shoveled big bites of cake into her mouth until she’d devoured the entire thing. It wasn’t that big of a cake but still… Next she took a couple swigs of wine. Then she started in on the chips and cookies. More wine in between.
Ten or fifteen minutes later only crumbs were left.
Jayshree leaned on the counter. She scrunched her face and clutched her bloated stomach, groaning. Right when Jaya edged out from behind the wall, Jayshree turned away in a daze. She headed to the bathroom. Jaya followed her.
He watched his mother kneel down in front of the toilet.
Jaya held his breath as he inched forward and to the side to keep a better eye on his mother.
Jayshree lifted the cover and the seat. Then she did something he’d never have imagined—she stuck her finger way back in her mouth and gagged.
The loud sound along with his mother’s violently heaving chest terrified Jaya. He smashed his balled-up fist onto his lips. How had things come to this?
Money.
Everything changed when they got money. He remembered what he’d heard his father say that first morning when he walked into their master bedroom suite, a vast expanse the same size as the living and dining rooms combined in their Niu Valley house. His parents were lying on their king-size bed, under their Egyptian cotton sateen 1020 thread count ivory sheets and matching duvet.
“Jayshree,” Sanjay was telling his wife, “now we have money. We will employ a nanny for Jaya, a cook, and a couple of housekeepers. Like the rich Americans.”
Jaya’s mother had sat up and wrinkled her forehead. “But Sanjay, we are not like these Americans.”
Sanjay yawned. He caressed her back. “We are now.”
Then Jayshree sighed. She noticed Jaya standing in the doorway. “Jaya, betta, what do you think of having your own nanny?”
Jaya shrugged.
Within a week, his parents had hired all the help. That left Jayshree with little to do. Meanwhile Sanjay took on more luxury condo development projects. And though he was hardly home, he and Jayshree fought more when he was.
In Kahala it seemed the only times his parents talked as if they liked each other was at the grand parties they hosted once a month. Jayshree would be the perfect hostess. Exquisitely dressed. Witty. Holding hands with Sanjay. Acting like the Bollywood heroines she worshipped. The parties became an obsession for her. One of the only things she looked forward to.
The only thing Jaya looked forward to any more was time with his nineteen-year-old Venezuelan nanny, Milagros. He called her Millie.
Earlier today, Millie had played the beautiful melody of Spanish Romance for him on her guitar. The haunting notes soothed him.
Jaya adored everything about Millie. Her long, wavy brown hair. Her smell. Like gardenia and vanilla. His heart pounded every time she smiled at him. Or when her fingers accidentally brushed his arm.
He’d already daydreamed their wedding—Millie in her form-fitting white lacy dress and Jaya in a perfectly tailored black tux. Dancing. Jaya leading.
Jaya loved Millie.
And to love Millie was to also love guitar. Her guitar was her third arm. She brought it with her every day. She played for him every day. On top of that, she insisted he learn.
Guitar lessons had to be daily, she said. After school on weekdays. Midday on weekends. And always after a relaxing swim in the oceanfront pool. Millie would call Jaya to the lounge chairs. Handing him a towel, she’d say some version of, “Time to get in touch with true beauty.”
Jaya would blush when she said that. The only true beauty he knew was Millie, but he didn’t think he could touch her.
The lessons started the same way. First she’d demonstrate the song she wanted to teach him. She’d play it, then sing it. Jaya tried to focus on the music, but mostly he was in tune with Millie’s barely there bikini.
