The Weight of Heaven (48 page)

the closet mirror. What shocked him was how unchanged he looked.

He took in the blue eyes, as clear as a California sky; the way the

full lips closed together in a line that indicated strength and integrity;

the wide, uncreased forehead that conveyed clarity and innocence.

He still had feet, not hooves. Yes, his hair was gray but he still had a

thick head of hair and it did not sprout horns. His hands were burned

bronze and there was no blood running down them. This was the final

insult, this appearance of normalcy.

Self-loathing made it hard to continue looking in the mirror.

He turned away and picked up Ellie’s watch and shoved it into the

pocket of his jeans. He folded the check in half and thrust it into the

other pocket. Next, he unzipped his suitcase and placed the photo

frame with Benny’s picture in between some of his shirts. He took

one last look at the bedroom. If he looked closely at the bed, he could

still see Ellie’s indentation. So he didn’t permit himself a close look.

Every day, for the rest of his life, would be a balancing act, weighing what degree of pain and pleasure he could bear. That would be

his true punishment—caution. Never again would he be able to do

anything spontaneously, or on an impulse. He would measure his

life in coffee spoons.

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 3 5 9

Satish was in the courtyard when he stepped out of the house.

“Sir,” he said hurrying up to Frank, to relieve him of his suitcase.

The driver opened his mouth to say more, swallowed. “I’m sorry,

sir,” he said.

Frank put his arm on the young man’s shoulder. “Thank you,”

he said. They both stood in the courtyard for a moment. Frank eyed

the small shack that had become Ellie’s tomb. The shack was empty

now. Prakash had refused to step foot into it since the night of the

murders. Shashi had offered Prakash a job at the hotel, and father

and son were currently living there. Turning away, Frank looked

back at the sweet little cottage where he and Ellie had spent two

years together. I hope you were happy here with me at least part of

the time, he said to himself. I hope I made you happy sometimes.

They drove to Hotel Shalimar, and Nandita burst into tears as she

hugged him good-bye. “I can’t stand this,” she sobbed. “It’s hard

enough without Ellie. But now you too are leaving us, Frank.”

“You guys were wonderful friends to us,” he replied. “I’ll never

forget that.” He turned toward Shashi. “One more favor to ask. Is

there a private room where I can talk to Prakash and Ramesh for a

few seconds? And then I’ll be on my way.”

He waited alone in an unoccupied hotel room, and a few minutes

later there was a soft knock on the door that he immediately recognized. “Come in,” he called, and they entered.

He had barely spoken to Ramesh since the drive back from

Bombay. Back at the hotel, he had simply told him that his mother

and Ellie were both sick, and even that lie had been unbearable.

The desolation that he saw on Ramesh’s face at the thought of Edna

being sick had been a wake-up call. The mad self-absorption, the

crippling delusion that had made him plot the murders, the fog of

insanity that had made him ignore the fact that he would be inflicting on Ramesh the most grieveous injury a child could suffer, lifted

during that long ride from Bombay to Girbaug. He was mortified,

guilt-riddled. And so he had avoided Ramesh. Also, his grief over

3 6 0 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

losing Ellie was so blinding, he couldn’t bear to acknowledge that

Ramesh was hurting in the same manner as he was. He might have

been able to handle either guilt or grief. Together, they were too

heavy a load for Frank to carry. He felt his obsession with the boy

ebbing away, like a fever leaving his body. Now, he saw the child for

who he was—an extraordinarily smart kid but perhaps not college

material; a sweet, bright boy, but certainly not someone who held

the key to his happiness.

Now, as if aware of his fall from grace, Ramesh looked at him

silently. Frank forced himself to acknowledge his presence. “How

are you, Ramesh?” he said softly.

The boy shrugged.

“I see. Yes . . . well . . .”

“I am missing my mama. And Ellie, too,” Ramesh blurted out.

Frank looked away. His eyes focused on where Prakash was

standing. The cook looked as if he’d aged by about ten years. An

image of Ellie’s haggard face at the hospital when Benny was sick

flashed unbidden through Frank’s mind. People don’t age with time,

he realized. They bend with grief.

He walked up to Prakash. “I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said.

He pulled the check out of his pocket. “This—is for you and for

Ramesh. For his education. Maybe you can even buy a small house,

somewhere. In any case, I hope it helps.”

Prakash stared at the piece of paper, and Frank realized that the

cook was illiterate. But Ramesh was at his father’s side, and Frank

saw his eyes widen.
“Baap re,”
the boy breathed. “Dada, this is for

one lakh rupees.”

Prakash looked bewildered. “I don’t understand?”

“It’s for you,” Frank said urgently. “A gift from me—and

Ellie.”

“I am a millionaire? A
lakhpati
?” Prakash said.

Frank smiled. “I guess so.” He waited for his words to sink in

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 3 6 1

and then said, “Listen, Prakash. Put this money in a bank. Don’t

drink it away, you understand? This is your chance to—”

Prakash placed his hand on Ramesh’s head. “I’m swearing on my

son,” he said. “Frank
seth
, I haven’t touched one drop since—since

that day. May worms eat my flesh if I ever touch that
daru
again. It

is the devil’s brew.”

“Good. Look, this is your money. But I’m going to give you

some advice—ask Nandita and Shashi for help. They will tell you

how to invest it.”

Prakash still look dazed. “I will be forever in their debt if they

help, sir,” he said. “What do I know of banks and things?”

“Okay,” Frank replied. “I’ll let them know.” He stared at Prakash

for a moment, wondering why he’d ever disliked the man so much.

Ramesh wove his hand into Frank’s and looked up at him. “I will

miss you, Frank.”

For a second, he felt the old connection again, and his heart responded to Ramesh’s simplicity and innocence. How happy this boy

had made him for a little while. “I’ll see you sometime,” he lied.

“You are going home?” Ramesh said.

“Yes,” he lied. He had no idea where home was or where he was

going. His ticket said he was going from Bombay to New York, but

it all felt like a dream to him right now. He might decide to get off

at London. Or he might oversleep in his hotel room in Bombay and

miss the flight and lose himself among the eighteen million people

who called that strip of an island their home. Or he might actually

arrive at JFK and be met by Scott and his mother. In a way, it didn’t

matter where he went, because wherever he went, he would be alone

and homeless. He had had only two homes in his life—Benny and

Ellie. And they were gone.

A month ago, the thought of turning his back on Ramesh and

walking away had been unimaginable. Now, he was doing it. Without a backward glance.

3 6 2 Th r i t y U m r i g a r

He hugged Nandita one more time. “Will you stay in touch?”

she cried.

“Yup. I’ll send you my information as soon as I’m settled,” he

said. But what came to his mind was not the house in Ann Arbor

or Scott’s condo in New York. What came to mind was wandering.

That’s all he wanted to do, wander, walk and walk until his legs

gave out, the mechanical movement of his feet keeping rhythm with

the hectic pace of his mind, until there was only blankness, until his

thoughts stopped pestering him like tiny insects. The thought of a

desk job where he sat in meetings or moved paper; of living in his

home, where he was controlled by the tyranny of the coffeemaker

and the dishwasher and the television set; of being around people

whose skins were unlined and minds unburdened, frightened him.

He had been ejected from that world, into a rarer world—one occupied by ascetics and sadhus and wanderers. He needed to move,

move, to escape the menagerie in his head.

Back in America, there were people who loved him—loved him

for himself and because he was their last link to Ellie. Who wanted

to care for and console him, to draw him back into the fold of human

company. He was unworthy of their love. They did not know that

they would be bringing a killer into their midst. The normal consolations of bereavement were not open to him. He did not deserve

them. Even between him and Scott there would now be a secret. He

would not—could not—avail the luxury of confession. Perhaps the

only person who would understand him—no, the only person he,

Frank, would understand—would be his father. Who also knew a

thing or two about betraying the ones you love.

Maybe I’ll look for him, he said to himself as he got back into

the car. Maybe I’ll—but he didn’t finish the thought. Like so many

of his thoughts these days, this one shivered and died, like a fish

washed to shore.

“Ready, sir?” Satish said.

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 3 6 3

“Ready,” he answered. He looked to where Nandita, Shashi,

Prakash, and Ramesh were standing at the entrance of the hotel.

He waved and then rolled up the window. In a minute the car approached the hotel gates. He looked back, and they were all still

standing there, as distant as stars. Then Satish made a right turn,

and they fell away.

Out of the blue, he remembered something his grandma Benton

had once said to him in one of her boozy moments. The old lady, gin

on her breath, had bent toward the startled eleven-year-old boy and

said, “You know the most dangerous force on earth, darlin’? It ain’t

the atom bomb. It’s a man who is truly free. That’s who you gotta

watch out for.”

Frank leaned back in his seat as Girbaug erupted in bursts of red

dust and occasional green around them. He felt free and dangerous.

Chapter 37

The sky dripped gold that evening.
And reds and purples, as rich as blood.

As twilight fell, the colors dropped onto their skins, breathed fire into his

and Benny’s blond hair.
The sand had turned the color of copper, and

they ran greedy fingers through it.
The ocean rustled like autumn trees,

sighed in contentment.
They were at Captiva Island in Florida, and each

night they had slept deeply, their breathing in unison with the breathing

of the ocean.

It was their wedding anniversary.
Benny was three years old.
Right

now, he was playing by himself, digging up the wet sand with his yellow

shovel and filling up his little green pail.
He squatted a few feet away

from them, jabbering away to himself.
The setting sun had turned his

skin a rich shade of bronze.

Ellie was sitting across from Frank on the blanket, the summer breeze

running through her hair.
He took in the delicate curve of her neck, the

sharp nose that was sniffing the salty air, the dark vein running down

the slender arm.
He felt a lump grow in his throat, felt something in him

ache with longing.
It didn’t seem possible to love her even more than he

had the day he’d married her.
But he did.

“Whatcha thinking?” he whispered.

Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n 3 6 5

She smiled and turned her head away from the ocean and toward him.

The sun trembled in her eyes. “Of a quote by Shaw that I came across

recently. It says, ‘A happy family is but an earlier heaven.’ ”

Involuntarily, they turned toward their son. He was now picking up

the wet sand with his hands, flattening it into a patty, and then flinging

it away. “You’ll have to give him his bath tonight,” Ellie said wryly.

“I’m not touching him.”

He lay back on the blanket and stared at the sky. The sun was coughing

up colors that any self-respecting painter would have been embarrassed to

use on a canvas. He watched the moving, flowing crayon streaks and then

said, “Here’s a saying for you: ‘The sky is an upside down ocean.’ ”

“Who said that?”

“I did. Frank Benton Shaw.”

They giggled. Benny looked over, and Frank sat up immediately.

“Hey, sweetie,” he said. “You wanna come sit with us for a few min-

utes?”

They moved closer to each other, their knees touching, as Benny tot-

tered over to them. The boy sat in front of them, and they both threw one