Cutting for Stone - Abraham Verghese [174]
That evening Hema said there were three of Rosina's relatives— a woman and two men—visiting her. Hema pressed me as to what was going on. I couldn't believe that she didn't know or that Rosina didn't tell her. It appeared that no one was talking about what happened the previous night. I was sure Rosina would go to Hema and accuse me and I couldn't understand why so far she had not. Had Hema talked to Shiva, I suspect she would have found out everything. But no one thought to ask him.
Shiva returned just as we were finishing dinner, pleased with his excursion to Akaki. Neither Genet nor Rosina was at the table. Almaz said that mother and daughter were having a big fight and that Rosina's relatives had come to mediate.
Hema rose to go see what was happening, but Ghosh held her back. “Whatever it is, if you get in the middle it's only going to get more complicated.” Shiva said nothing, eating his food.
I wasn't being noble by keeping quiet. I didn't think anyone would believe my side of the story. It was up to my brother or Genet to save me if they wanted to. I studied Shiva's face at the dining table. There was no sign that he was aware of the calamity he'd caused. No indication at all.
That night I told Shiva I was moving to a room in Ghosh's old quarters. I was going to sleep and study there. I wanted to be alone there, I announced, not looking at him.
He said nothing. It would be the first time in our lives that we did not occupy the same bed. If there were filaments and cords of yolk or flesh that kept our divided egg sticking together, I was taking a scalpel to them.
Saturday morning, when I came over for breakfast, it seemed to me that Shiva hadn't slept any better than I had. After breakfast, he left for Farinachi's.
I was about to go back to my room to study when Almaz burst into the dining room. “I think you better come, madam,” she said, addressing Hema.
She led the charge to the servant's quarters; Hema, Ghosh, and I followed.
Rosina sat in a corner of the darkened room, looking sullen, defensive yet anxious. Genet lay on her bed, her face pale, sweat beading on her forehead, her eyes open, but unfocused and dull. The room held a raw, sour odor of fever.
“What happened here?” Hema asked, but Rosina wouldn't answer or meet Hema's gaze. Almaz turned on the light, and she moved to block my view, then lifted the blanket to show Hema.
Ghosh said, “Open the window, Marion,” and he moved closer to look.
“My God,” Hema said. Genet moaned in pain. Hema grabbed Rosina's shoulders. “Did you? Did you just … this poor girl?” Choking with fury, Hema shook her. But Rosina wouldn't look up. “You stupid woman!” Hema said. “Oh, God, God. Why?” Hema's eyes were those of a madwoman, uncomprehending, dangerous. I thought she might strangle Rosina. Instead, she pushed her away. “You've probably killed her, Rosina, do you know that?” There were tears coming down Rosina's chin, but her expression remained surly.
Ghosh scooped Genet in his arms, and she let out an unearthly moan as he lifted her off the bed. “The car,” Ghosh said, and Almaz ran ahead to get the door. Hema followed. I lingered for a second in the doorway on the threshold of Genet's home. My nanny sat just the way she had when we came in. I thought of the day she'd taken a razor to scarify Genet's face and how her expression had been defiant, proud. But now, I saw shame and fear.
As I ran to join them in the car, Hema spun on her heel and thrust her face in mine. “I think you had something to do with this, Marion. I'm not a fool!”
She got in the car and slammed the door. They pulled away with Almaz cradling Genet in the back, Ghosh driving. I ran down our drive, cut behind the toolshed and across the field, and caught up with them as they took her into Casualty.
They poured fluids and antibiotics into Genet's veins. Then Hema took her to Operating Theater 3 for a more careful examination.