Unaccustomed Earth - Jhumpa Lahiri [45]
“Other side,” Megan said as they approached the crowd. He moved over to her left and matched his stride to hers. Side by side they took their place in the line for drinks. There was the usual array of bottles, and two punch bowls full of lemonade.
“Spiked or unspiked?” the bartender asked. They got two glasses of the spiked and approached the lawn, sipping their sweet, potent drinks. He looked around at the faces, at men carrying toddlers on their shoulders, mothers shushing babies in their carriers, nannies chasing after older children. The nannies seemed young, high school students, he guessed, hired for the occasion. The fathers were pointing to the trees, to the clouds that spread and shifted over the valley. He recognized no one and missed his daughters.
“Lots of kids here,” Megan said.
“The girls would have enjoyed this.”
“But then we wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves. Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Because they were standing side by side they raised their glasses into the air in front of them, without looking at each other.
It felt strange to be drinking at the school. He remembered the covert parties, the bottles that would be smuggled into the dorms and consumed Friday and Saturday nights, always fearful of the proctor’s rounds.
“I feel old,” he said to Megan. He saw a face that was familiar, smiling at him, walking over. The stylish tortoiseshell glasses were new, but he remembered the friendly blue eyes, the wavy brown hair, the cleft in the chin. They had shared a number of classes, been lab partners, he suddenly remembered, in chemistry. His father and Pam’s father had grown up together; he had always referred to the headmaster as “Uncle Borden.” He remembered the last name, Schultz, but not the first.
“Sarkar,” Schultz said. “Amit Sarkar, right?”
Amit extended a hand, Schultz’s first name coming to him just then. “Great to see you. This is my wife, Megan. Megan, this is Tim.”
The smile disappeared from Schultz’s face. “It’s Ted.”
“Ted, of course, Ted. I’m so sorry. Ted, meet my wife, Megan.” He felt like an idiot, as mortified by his error as he would have been in his first term at Langford, when he worked so hard to please. He berated himself for using a name at all, for not letting it emerge naturally in the course of conversation. “I’m sorry,” he said again as Ted and Megan shook hands. “It’s been a long day. A long drive.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ted said, in a way that only made Amit feel worse. “Your parents still in India?”
“They came back. And then they left again.”
“Where are you living these days?”
It turned out that Ted lived in Manhattan, too. He was divorced and working at a law firm.
“Do you guys know this guy Pam’s marrying? The one she’s finally going to settle for instead of one of us?”
“I’ve never met Ryan,” Amit said, wondering what Megan would make of Ted’s comment.
“All I know is he writes for television,” Ted said. “One of those law shows that makes my job look glamorous. That’s why they’re moving to L.A. Apparently one of the actors for the show is supposed to be here.”
They looked around for someone who might be a celebrity. It was an attractive crowd, many of the women in black cocktail dresses. Amit remembered Megan’s skirt and took a step toward her, putting his arm around her waist.
“How did you two meet?” Ted asked.
“Med school,” Megan said.
“Oh. Dr. Sarkar, I’m impressed.”
“Just her,” Amit said. “She stuck it out. I didn’t.”
A string quartet began to play and people drifted toward their seats. Amit and Megan chose chairs at the back, Megan complaining that her heels were sinking into the grass. They put their empty glasses under their seats. Everyone