Miss New India - Bharati Mukherjee [65]
"She has a gentleman caller!" Sunita gasped.
Regal Husseina gave an unregal wink. "Tookie, you put one of your guy friends up to this trick, didn't you? Just look at Mad Minnie, she's blushing under all that thick makeup!"
"And you," Minnie simpered. "It's been ever so long! And I'm not getting any younger, but I'm still good for a waltz or two. Or three."
Tookie crossed her heart. I'm above reproach, her look said, as she led the other three down the staircase. Sunita coughed to warn the landlady that she had company in the foyer.
"Oh, splendid! Well, ta-ta, for now." But Minnie didn't hang up. She turned to face her boarders. "For you," she announced, holding out the receiver. None of the young women reached for it. The earpiece was caked with beige face powder. "What's the matter? I'm not charging you for receiving this call, Anjali."
"Me, madam?" The only person who knew where to reach her was Mr. GG. She hoped her excitement wasn't too obvious to Husseina and Tookie. "Anjali Bose here," she mumbled as Minnie pushed the receiver into her face.
And from a vast distance she heard a familiar voice: "Angie, it's me, Peter."
His voice was so American, so not like the Americanized banter of the Willies and Mickeys and Hanks at Barista.
"Peter! I was just talking about you!" It wasn't a lie, not really. She had mentioned his name when Husseina played the role of Usha Desai, to prep for the call she had not yet made. "Where are you, Peter?" Oh, please, please, she prayed, let him be far away from Bangalore.
"It's Peter" were the words she'd most feared. She imagined what he'd ask: Why haven't you called Usha Desai? How much money have you squandered? She hadn't prepared her defense. I tried to call Mizz Desai, but the lines were occupied, I mean, the line was busy. Or a bold lie: I called but she didn't recognize my name. Except that Minnie would then find out she had made a freebie outgoing call and definitely dump her. Or I just came down to the hall to call her. It's mental telepathy! How could she admit the humiliating truth that she had been scared away by Usha Desai's answering machine?
"Well, I'm glad you made it to Bagehot House. You couldn't be in safer hands than dear Minnie's. Now about CCI..."
Minnie, Tookie, Husseina, and Sunita huddled around her, listening in. Even Asoke, waiting at the door to the dining room to serve the soup course, showed interest in Anjali's one and only telephone call in over three weeks. This was one time she didn't savor being the center of attention.
"CCI?" Anjali asked. She felt the idioms and accents she had practiced assiduously in Peter Champion's conversational skills classes desert her.
"Usha's outfit. Contemporary Communications Institute. She said she hadn't heard from you."
"Oh, CCI," she mumbled. So her Gauripur benefactor was tracking her lack of progress. Mumble a noncommittal response; don't admit to procrastination. "I agree..."
"Pardon? You're breaking up, Angie. Bad connection."
"Monday next I am planning..."
"Can't stay over till Monday, but at least I can make sure you have an interview set up with Usha. Listen, I'm flying in for the weekend."
"Here? You are coming?"
"Getting in Friday afternoon."
Tookie mimed a lover's swoon, collapsing into Husseina's arms. "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou"—she mouthed the words.
"This Friday you are coming?"
"Minnie's readying a room for me."
"In Bagehot House you are staying?"
Minnie snorted. "Where else would I put the adorable boy?"
"I thought it best to deliver Gauripur news in person, Angie."
An "Omigod!" slipped out before she could stop it. Why couldn't Peter accept that she had scoured Gauripur out of her life as roughly as her father scooped corns and calluses off his feet with a used razor? She tried to recover by asking after Ali.
"We have a lot to talk over, Angie."
"Does that mean..."
Minnie rapped her lace-gloved fingers on Anjali's back. "Long-distance call," she said sternly. Anjali got the hint and kept her goodbye brief.
"The dawning of a new durbar."