The Weight of Heaven (39 page)

Arthur D’Mello, HerbalSolutions’ IT man, laid the laptop down

on Frank’s desk, a strange expression on his face. “Someone has

chopped the wires, sir,” he said, his voice reflecting the bewilderment he felt. “This is a deliberate job.”

Frank glanced at the computer and saw the veracity of what

Arthur was telling him. But his mind could not comprehend what

his eyes were seeing. The machine was almost brand-new. Why

would someone— ? And who would— ?

Even before he could complete the thought, he knew the answer.

Prakash. It had to be. The fellow had destroyed the computer. No

one else would be that spiteful and that reckless. But why would the

jerk do this? Did he really not care about his son at all?

He had not been too concerned when Ramesh had showed up last

night complaining that his computer was not working. “Can you

repair, Frank?” the boy had asked.

“I don’t know how to fix these things, bud,” he’d replied. “But

I’ll take it to work tomorrow. I’m sure Arthur can figure out what’s

wrong.” All the while thinking it was a simple software glitch, not

sabotage.

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Arthur was eyeing him curiously. “Are you all right, sir?” he

asked, and Frank realized that some of the fury he was feeling must

have shown on his face. “Yeah, fine,” he replied, forcing his face

into a neutral blankness.

“Who would do such a thing, sir?” Arthur continued. “Why?”

Even while his rational mind told him not to confide in a subordinate, Frank heard himself saying, “A total bastard, that’s who.

A jealous, insecure jerk who’s afraid of his own child’s success. I’m

going to kill him when I get home tonight.”

Arthur took one step back. “No, no, don’t say that, sir,” the young

man said appeasingly. “You’re just upset, sir, I understand. What to

do, sir? So many stupid-stupid people in this country.”

Oh, don’t even get me started about this country, Frank thought.

He looked at the man standing next to him. He liked Arthur—he

was a smart, competent guy, one of the best hires Frank had made.

Also, he was from Bombay and had a level of sophistication, indeed,

a rhythm that the small-town people who made up most of HerbalSolutions’ midlevel office staff lacked. Still, he’d seen how startled

Arthur had looked when he’d lashed out against Prakash. Better to

be careful. How could he expect a perfect stranger to understand the

extent of Prakash’s vileness and perfidy?

He made a visible effort to control his emotions. “Well, is it fixable?” he asked, nodding toward the laptop.

Arthur made a face. “I could try, sir,” he began. He shook

his head. “But to be honest, there’s a lot of damage done. Not

sure if—”

“Forget it,” Frank said, cutting him off. “Let’s just junk it.”

“We can save the hard drive and other parts, sir,” Arthur said.

“After all, it’s brand new.”

Didn’t he know it? He remembered the joy on Ramesh’s face on

Christmas Eve and felt murderously angry all over again. He forced

himself to focus on Arthur. “Whatever you wish,” he said. “Thanks

for coming in.”

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 2 9 3

“No mention, sir,” Arthur said. He picked up the ruined laptop

and left Frank’s office.

He spent the rest of the afternoon plotting what he was going to

do to Prakash. By the time Satish picked him up for the ride home,

he had come to a resolution: it was time to remind Prakash of who

was boss. What he wanted from the man was a confession and a

promise never to do such a thing again. If that meant threatening

Prakash with filing a police report, he would.

Prakash was in the courtyard pulling the weeds from between the

stones when Frank got home. His distaste rose as he saw Prakash’s

skinny, bent shape. Still, he ignored the man and went indoors.

“Hi, honey,” Ellie called to him and he gave her a kiss before

he went into the bedroom to change. He came out wearing a Tshirt and cargo shorts. Ellie looked up. “You have a good day?” she

asked.

“Great,” he lied. He didn’t want any of the anger that he was feeling to be squandered in the retelling of the story to her. “I’m going

out to the car for a minute,” he said and walked outdoors.

Ramesh was in the yard, helping his dad with the weeds. Frank

stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the boy, unsure of whether to

confront Prakash in front of his son. But right then Prakash looked

up at him and smirked. Frank took in the cagey eyes, the thin smile,

and then he was almost upon the man, who was still crouching on

the stones as he tugged at the weeds.

“Get up,” he said. “Get up.”

Prakash rose slowly. “Yes?” he said.

Frank could hear the mockery in the man’s voice. “Why did you

do it?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “When did you do it?”

Prakash’s eyes widened. “Do what,
seth
?”

Frank was dimly aware of the fact that Ramesh had risen, too,

and was staring at him. But he was past caring. He would get a confession out of Prakash if he had to beat it out of him. Prakash had

started this provocation, but he, Frank, would end it. “You know

2 9 4 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

what I’m talking about. Destroyed the computer. Tore out the wires.

Why did you do it?”

Prakash opened his mouth, but Frank spoke first. “Don’t lie to

me, you scumbag. Don’t. Because if you do, next thing you know

you’ll be talking to the police, not to me.” He stopped, remembering

something. “Or better yet, I’ll turn you over to Gulab Singh.”

He had instinctively chosen the right weapon to fight Prakash

with. At the mention of Gulab’s name, Prakash began to wail. “
Maaf

karo
, Frank sahib,” he said, folding his hands in a pleading gesture.

“It was my mistake. Too much to drink, sir. Please forgive.”

Prakash’s wailing drew Edna out of her house. “What?” she

said. “Frank sahib, what has happened?”

“Dada broke my computer,” Ramesh yelled to his mother. “Purposely. Cut the wires, ma.” The boy was near tears, his eyes flashing

with rage. And instead of feeling sorry for Ramesh or protective of

him, Frank felt a raw satisfaction. Let the boy know what his father

is made of, he thought. It’s time he knew his character.

“Besharam
,” Edna berated her husband. “Wormeater.
Kutta
. I

curse the day I laid eyes on you.”

As if to salvage his last remaining pride, Prakash turned on Edna

with a growl. “Shut up, you whore,” he yelled and raised his hand

toward Edna. “Get back to the house.”

Frank moved. His right fist landed on Prakash’s chest bone

at the exact moment that Ellie came into the courtyard to see what

the commotion was about. Prakash staggered back five steps and

then fell heavily on his butt. He stayed on the ground, moaning to

himself, rubbing his chest with both his hands. The blow had landed

harder than Frank had intended. He knew from how his knuckles

stung.

“Frank,” Ellie screamed as she raced toward where he was standing, towering over Prakash. For a full minute, she was the only one

moving. The other four stood frozen, varying degrees of shock registering on their faces.

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 2 9 5

“Oh, shit,” Frank said, staring at Ellie and then at Ramesh. “I

didn’t mean to—. I thought he was going to hurt her,” he added,

pointing toward Edna.

Ramesh was staring at him, an expression on his face he couldn’t

read. And then, still keeping his eyes on Frank, Ramesh went up to

his father and sat down beside him, stroking his arm. “
Chalo
, Dada,”

he said. “Get up. Come into the house.”

Frank felt his cheeks burn. He wished Ellie wasn’t here to witness

his shame, the obvious fact that Ramesh had sided with his father

over him. He noticed the protective way in which Ramesh cradled

his father, the careful way in which he was helping him get to his

feet.

Just before hobbling away, Prakash looked at Frank. The contempt on the man’s face took Frank’s breath away. It was a look that

said that Prakash knew what Frank saw—that even in defeat, he

was triumphant. Because Ramesh belonged to him. Because the ties

of blood could not be severed as easily as cutting the wires on a

computer.

Edna, ever anxious to curry favor with her employers, must’ve

dimly registered what had just occurred. “Thank you for saving me,

sir,” she said. “Not telling what that drunkard would have done.”

Getting no reaction from Frank, she turned toward Ellie. “He save

me, miss,” she said. “That rat was about to—”

“I know, Edna, I know,” Ellie said dryly, and Frank knew that

she was not convinced.

Ellie turned to Frank. “This is enough drama for one day, don’t

you think? Let’s go in.”

He followed behind her. As he’d predicted, she turned to him as

soon as he shut the door behind them. “You
hit
him? Are you out of

your mind? Can’t you find someone your own size to—”

“Damn you,” he said in a low voice. “You weren’t there. You

don’t know what he did. He’s a piece of shit. And I should’ve known

that you’d side with that prick instead of with me.” But what he was

2 9 6 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

really thinking was, Ramesh went to his father’s aid, not mine. Even

after he found out what his dad had done.

“Frank,” Ellie began, but he cut her off.

“No. Not today. Save the social worker act for someone else. You

don’t even understand or like these people. You—you just feel sorry

for them, that’s all.” He turned around and left the room. He sat on

the porch for a few minutes and watched the sea churning in the distance. But he was too agitated to sit still. He got up, crossed the front

lawn, and ran down the steps to the beach. He tied one shoelace that

had come undone and began to run along the water, the evening sun

sinking to his left.

But no matter how fast he ran, he could not run away from the

image of Ramesh sitting beside his fallen father, stroking his arm.

Stupid, stupid, he chided himself. Hitting the bastard in front of the

child. Leaving the poor kid with no choice. Frank made a fist and

slammed it into his left hand repeatedly, punishing himself for his

violence, for his lack of control. A few fishermen drying their nets

on the sand looked at him curiously as he ran along, punching and

talking to himself. He barely noticed them.

The sun had set by the time he got home, and he ran the last

quarter mile in darkness. Ellie had left the porch light on for him.

She was reading in the living room and looked up when he came

in. He wanted to ask whether Ramesh had come asking for him but

didn’t have the heart to find out. Besides, he was pretty sure he knew

the answer. The boy was probably home with his father, who would

soak up sympathy like bread in a bowl of warm milk.

Pulling off his drenched T-shirt, he headed into the bathroom

and slammed the door behind him.

Chapter 28

Ramesh was gone. Vanished. Disappeared. Along with his father.

Two days after Frank’s altercation with Prakash, the latter had

left the house to go pick up Ramesh from school as he usually did. He

had mumbled something to Edna about taking his son for an outing

and that they would be home late. Edna, happy any time Prakash

paid attention to his son, had been glad. But at eight that evening

Mulad, one of the village drunks, had staggered up the driveway,

knocked on Edna’s door and handed her a note. It was in Ramesh’s

handwriting but was dictated by Prakash.

Dear Edna,
the note said,
I am taking my son away for a while.

The boy needs to understand where he comes from. And I am need-

ing to know my son. You please do all the cooking at the main house

while we are away. Don’t worry. We will return soon.

Your husband,

Prakash

Edna read the note and then brought it over for Frank and Ellie

to decipher.

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What caught Frank’s immediate attention was Prakash’s two

mentions of Ramesh as “my son.” He looked at Ellie to see if she

had picked up on the current of hostility that wound its way through

the letter. But the expression on her face told him that she didn’t see

what he did—that this was Prakash’s revenge for Frank humiliating

him in front of his family.

“Where could he have taken the boy?” he asked Edna.

“That only I’m asking myself, sir. I’m thinking and thinking

but not knowing. But the blue suitcase is missing. God only knows

when Prakash took it out of the house.”

Frank gritted his teeth. “Does he have any idea how it’s gonna

set Ramesh back in school, this little—adventure?”

Edna looked ready to cry. Ellie shot him a warning look. “I’m

sure Prakash is aware of that, honey,” she said smoothly. “I’m sure

they’ll only be gone for a day or two.”

He barely heard her. He had just had another thought: What if

the note was a ruse to buy Prakash some time? What if the drunken