Unaccustomed Earth - Jhumpa Lahiri [13]
Sometime in the middle of the night she’d woken up in Akash’s bed and stumbled into her own. Normally Akash came into her bed at dawn, falling asleep beside her for another few hours before waking her up and wanting cereal. She didn’t mind Akash coming into her bed, especially when Adam was out of town. But this morning the bed was empty. She no longer felt sick in the mornings. Instead, her first thought was of food; she wanted a burrito, or one of the egg and cheese sandwiches from the bagel shop near their old apartment in Park Slope, a reminder that all through the night, as she slept, her body had been hard at work. In the kitchen she saw that the dinner dishes, washed and dried, were at one side of the countertop. In the drainer was a clean bowl, spoon, juice glass, and mug. Beside the stove, on a saucer, was a drying tea bag, reserved for a second use. She heard Akash’s voice coming from somewhere outside, but couldn’t see him through the window. She went onto the porch, where the sound of his voice was more distinct. “But I didn’t see a turtle,” she heard him say, and she gathered that he and her father had taken a walk down to the lake.
She took her prenatal vitamin, put on water for tea. She was making toast when her father and Akash came in through the kitchen door.
“We went to the lake and Dadu put me into a movie,” Akash said excitedly, pointing to the video camera strung around her father’s neck.
“You’re wet,” she observed, noticing that the straps of his sandals and the front of his shorts were darkened by water. She turned to her father. “What happened?”
“Nothing, nothing. We thought we saw a turtle, and Akash wanted to touch it,” he said to Ruma. “He is asking for cereal.”
“Come on, first you need to change,” she said to Akash. When she returned she saw that her father had opened up the cupboard. “Is this the one he takes?” he asked, holding up a box of Cheerios.
She nodded. “When did you wake up, Baba?”
“Oh, I was up before five. I sat on the porch and had my breakfast, and then Akash joined me and we went outside.”
“I can take over,” she said, watching her father pour milk into the cereal bowl.
“I don’t mind. Have your food.”
She opened the fridge for butter and jam, prepared her tea. When she was finished, her father took the kettle, put the dried-out tea bag into the same cup that was in the dish drainer, and added the remaining hot water.
“Dadu, outside?” Akash said, tugging on her father’s pants.
“Soon, Babu. Let me finish.”
As she ate her breakfast she mentioned the places they could see during the course of his visit—before his arrival she had looked up hours of admission, ticket prices, and in her mind she’d already conceived of an itinerary, something to keep them occupied each day. She hadn’t had the time or energy to explore much of downtown Seattle, and thought the week with her father would provide the opportunity. “There’s the Space Needle of course,” she began. “And Pike Place Market. There’s an aquarium along the waterfront I’ve been meaning to take Akash to. They have ferry rides across Puget Sound that are supposed to be nice. We could go to Victoria for the day. And then there’s the Boeing factory, if you’re interested. They give tours.”
“Yes,” her father said. He looked tired to her, his eyes small behind his glasses. “To be honest,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind a rest from all that.”
She was confused; she