And Laughter Fell From The Sky Part 13

"Hi," he said.

She looked up, startled. Then her face grew rosy and she smiled. "Abhay! I'm so glad you're here!"

He was surprised she could p.r.o.nounce his name, after only hearing it once. She was very pretty, with her cheerful smile and blue-green eyes.

She closed her book and stood up. "I'll get another chair."

"No, let me." He put out his hands, as if to prevent her from exerting herself on his behalf.

"It's fine," she said. "Have a seat. I'll be right back." She was wearing jeans shorts and a sleeveless top, and her limbs were long and fit. She trotted up the stairs into the house. In a moment she came back down with another lawn chair. "Ellen's inside," she explained as she unfolded the chair and sat down. "She can't study outside. She says it's too distracting." Kianga had to shout over the noise of the traffic from the freeway. "Listen, the guy I wanted you to meet tonight couldn't show up. But he says you should come by his office tomorrow for an interview."

Abhay sat down in the chair she had vacated. "What kind of job is it?"

"My friend Justin is using inheritance money to start a new environmental organization in town. I know him from Green Party meetings. He's a good guy. Really intellectual. You reminded me of him, so I thought you two might be a good match. He needs help with just about everything. You'll get to learn all about running a nonprofit organization."

This was starting to sound good-better than he'd expected. "What's the organization?"

"It's called HOPE. It stands for Humans Off of Planet Earth. It's a population organization. He asks people to sign voluntary pledges to get sterilized. The idea is, humans need to stop taking over the planet."

Abhay laughed. "It sounds kind of ridiculous."

"I thought so, too, at first. But I can see the appeal of something like this. The organization takes a logical point to an extreme, and that can be helpful sometimes to wake people up and help them consider all their choices. Childlessness is certainly a valid environmental choice, although personally, I think humans are part of the plan."

"What plan?"

"The plan of existence." She held out her hand, palm up, and waved it in a slow arc in front of her. "G.o.d has put us on this earth for some reason. Or if you're not comfortable with the word G.o.d, think of it this way. Humans evolved on Earth for a reason. Mother Nature created us. Life created us. We're here."

"G.o.d didn't ask us to destroy things," he said. "Mother Nature can't be happy that humans are polluting the water and air, and burying nuclear waste in the earth. Even most humans didn't ask for so much of Earth to be paved. It was a few industrialists who made those decisions for all of us."

"I knew you'd be great for this job! You totally get it. Justin will love you. Listen, I've just got to finish this chapter before rehearsal."

Abhay sat silently while Kianga read. The sky was starting to dim. He s.h.i.+fted his chair so he faced away from the highway, and looked over the tops of the houses to the wispy clouds drifting slowly across the sky. After several minutes, a long-haired guy with a guitar case slung over his back walked up the sidewalk and over the lawn to where they were sitting. "Hey, cutie," he said, and leaned over to kiss Kianga on the lips. This must be her boyfriend.

"Abhay, this is Preview," Kianga said.

"Preview?" Abhay must have looked puzzled because the guy said, "I made it up to remind myself you always have another chance. Even this life isn't the final life. So if I think of my whole life as a preview, it helps keep me cool." He smoothed the air with a flattened hand.

Preview's long brown hair was matted in places. It didn't look like he'd combed it in ages. Perhaps he was in the middle of an attempt to create dreadlocks.

"We met Abhay at the fountain yesterday." Kianga stood up and folded her chair. Abhay did the same, and they all went inside, where several stools had been set up in the living room. Preview perched on a stool, balanced his guitar on his thigh, and started strumming. A man arrived with a set of bongo drums draped around his neck. He was brown, with short stubs of hair all over his head. He kissed Kianga, who was sitting on a stool shuffling through pages of music.

Abhay backed away. He felt like a fifth wheel. He wondered if Kianga invited all men to kiss her. Ellen appeared behind him and whispered, "Sit down here." She had set up two chairs in the dining room, so they could look into the living room and be out of the way.

The rehearsal was irritating. Kianga and the two guys seemed unsure about whether they were a folk group, a reggae group, or a rock-and-roll band. Kianga had a beautiful voice: clear, true to the note, and unaffected. But her melodies were often drowned out by frantic drumming or guitar riffs.

Every so often Abhay glanced at Ellen, and noticed her gaze on him. She smiled, and he smiled back. As the sky grew dark outside the windows, Abhay wondered what this job with HOPE would be like.

The next day, during his lunch break from the bookstore, he rode his bike west, crossing over Interstate 405. The address turned out to be an old apartment building. Abhay wondered if he was in the wrong place, but he locked his bike, changed his s.h.i.+rt so he wouldn't be too sweaty, climbed the stairs, and rang the doorbell.

A white man in his forties or fifties, slim and bald, opened the door. His face was creased, as though it had been folded up for a long while. He neither smiled nor held out a hand. "I'm Justin Time," he said. "Come on in."

Justin Time. Was the man serious?

Messy stacks of papers covered every available surface: a large round table in the middle of the room, a lone filing cabinet, smaller tables lining the walls, and the floor. Not what Abhay expected from an innovative, new environmental group.

"As you can see, I need a lot of help. Sit down here." Justin moved a stack of papers off a chair. "What we're doing now is cataloging the damage that has been done to Earth because of the human population explosion. There is so much information out there, and people are just blind to it. Blind."

Abhay nodded. "I agree." He was glad to meet someone in alignment with his own point of view. A large cobweb hung in the corner near the window, which let in a bit of light around the closed venetian blinds. He tried to push away the suspicion that Justin was not quite all there mentally. Maybe he was merely a bit eccentric.

"I've been collecting policy proposals, newspaper articles, magazine articles for years. And now I'm ready to launch my organization. My goal is to persuade all the males of our species to undergo a voluntary vasectomy. Women are included, too, but mainly I focus on men, because one man can do a lot of damage. Once people realize the destruction we're causing, I think this solution will become self-evident." Justin had a strange, clipped way of talking, and he didn't seem to like making eye contact. "Anyway, I thought I'd start you off with this." He lifted a stack of booklets from his side of the table and handed them to Abhay. "This organization does a book every year of planetary health indicators. Every one of the negative indicators can be tied directly to humans overrunning the planet. I want you to look through these and figure out how to organize it for the Web site."

Abhay realized this wasn't an interview. He had apparently already been hired.

"I'll pay you in cash at the end of every week," Justin said. "I don't see that we need to get the government involved with this-do you?" Justin raised an eyebrow at him.

Abhay was startled. That was his gesture, raising an eyebrow when he wanted to make a point. Was he going to end up like Justin someday? "I can't stay right now," he said. "I've got to get back to my other job."

"When can you come over?"

Abhay wasn't sure he wanted to get involved with Justin and his strange organization. He hadn't imagined working in someone's messy apartment. Yet, Abhay loved to read, and he was sure to learn something. "What are you planning to do once you get everything summarized and organized?"

"I want you to help me write grants. Publicize the Web site. Set up radio interviews. Write articles. You're getting in on the ground floor."

Abhay nodded. The goal of the organization was odd. And yet, when Abhay thought about it, it made sense. People needed to stop breeding. It was such a simple solution. A population decline would mean fewer farms turning into housing developments. And those farms in turn could then be restored to their original habitat: prairie, forest, wetland.

"Did you get a vasectomy?" Abhay asked.

"Absolutely. After my son was born twelve years ago, I realized what I had done. I saw that I had caused another being to enter the planet, which would result in more pesticides being applied to the soil and water. More rain forests felled to graze cows so my son could eat at McDonald's. And if he has children of his own-which I hope he does not-I will have created a self-perpetuating cycle of destruction."

"So you don't think anyone should have any children at all?"

"No. Do you?"

Abhay s.h.i.+fted in his seat. "I don't know."

"Incremental change hasn't made a dent," Justin declared. "We need to do something drastic now. Here." He pushed over to Abhay a piece of paper that looked like a certificate, with a scalloped edge and embossed decorations. "This is the pledge."

Abhay read silently: I, ________, pledge not to have any (more) children to add to the earth's burden. I volunteer to become sterilized in order to prevent further destruction of the earth's fragile web of life.

"You can keep that," Justin said.

"Do I have to sign it before I start working?"

Justin hesitated. "I don't want you to feel coerced. Once you learn what's really going on, you'll sign it on your own."

As Abhay biked back to the bookstore, he decided to go ahead and work with Justin, at least for the time being. Even though the man seemed odd, and even though Abhay recoiled from the thought of working in that dusty, dim apartment, no one else had articulated so clearly Abhay's own point of view about the world. He'd always heard that it was good to get in on the ground floor of something, and here was his chance. It made sense to take it.

Chapter 9.

It was a Sat.u.r.day afternoon in early October, and Rasika was in her car on her way home to change her clothes. She didn't want to face her parents, who were waiting at home to show her photos of eligible bachelors sent via e-mail by a matrimonial agent in India. They wanted to take her to India and marry her off this winter. To keep herself out of her parents' clutches, she had agreed to meet Benito, her gym trainer, at his apartment for dinner.

Since meeting Dilip in August, she had dutifully exchanged e-mails with him. He seemed nice enough. He wanted to come and visit her again, but she had discouraged him, saying that she was very busy.

Then, a few weeks ago, against her mother's wishes, her father had sent Dilip's and Rasika's horoscopes off to India. Three mornings ago Appa had received an e-mail from the astrologer stating that it wasn't a good match, but if the two wanted to get married, they should send $200 for a special pooja to compensate for the unlucky star positions.

Her father spent a few days pacing and twitching, while Rasika acted disappointed. Her mother had wanted to go ahead and send the money. "How long are we going to wait to get her married?" she demanded. "Let's get this pooja done and get it over with."

"No," her father had said, shaking his head and jerking his shoulders. "If it is not in the horoscope, better not to risk it. She is our only daughter. Let us make the best match for her."

India was their last hope.

Rasika had escaped early in the morning, before they could catch her. She'd gone to her gym, where she'd agreed to the date with Benito, and had brunch with Jill, and then they both had wandered around a mall. Now she hoped she could sneak quietly into the house without her parents noticing.

She hadn't so much as flirted with any men since Abhay. Oddly, one reason she had been keeping away from men was that she wanted Abhay to be proud of her. She wanted him to know that she was following her chosen path in a mature, honest way. She'd get married soon to someone appropriate, Abhay would be a wedding guest, and she wanted to be able to look at him with clear eyes and have him know that she really was the person she always wanted to be. So she'd been plodding along, dutifully going to work, coming home, and helping her mother with the cooking. She'd bought a couple of craft magazines but hadn't decided what craft she wanted to learn. Her days pa.s.sed in a gray fog. Once, last Sat.u.r.day, she had driven by the bookstore in Kent where Abhay used to work. It was silly, she knew, but somehow she felt better after seeing a place where he'd been.

But today she just couldn't be dutiful anymore. She was desperate for some excitement. Benito had been interested in her for months. She thought he was gorgeous but held back from flirting. She'd been remarkably demure. But she just had to get away from her parents tonight. Anyway, she and Benito didn't have to end up in bed tonight. She had some self-control, after all. She was just going over to his place to relax and have a little fun. No one had to know.

Unfortunately, as she drove up to her house, she saw that both her parents were at home: Amma's car was in the garage, and Appa's was in the driveway. She opened the door to the house as quietly as possible and slipped off her shoes.

"Rasika?" Her mother's voice shouted down to her.

"I'm just here for a minute. I'm going out with Jill tonight."

"Come here." Amma appeared on the upstairs landing as Rasika tried to sneak up to her room. Amma's hair was messed up. It was held back in its usual ponytail, but one side was sticking out in a puff. "We talked with Prabhu Uncle last night about arranging for some meetings once we get to India. Your appa was up all night, on the phone to India. You must look at these photos and select."

"I don't have time now. We're seeing a movie, and it starts really soon." At the top of the stairs she tried to slip past her mother and into her room, but Amma gripped Rasika's upper arm.

"You are not going anywhere. You will look at these photos now. We are trying our best to get you married before the deadline. Before your birthday in January."

Her father emerged from his office. He had pouches under his eyes, and his hand trembled as he reached an arm toward her.

"Come on, raja." He put his hand on her back and guided her to a chair placed next to his.

"Show her the best one first." Amma stood behind Appa with her hands on the back of his chair.

"We will get to that." Appa clicked, and Rasika saw a smiling brown man with a mustache.

"That one is too short," Amma said.

Appa scrolled to the next: a long-faced man who looked as though he'd just eaten a lemon.

"I don't know why they don't smile for their photos," Amma said. "Although this fellow is so ugly, it wouldn't matter."

"He is an IIT graduate," Appa reminded her. "No one is looking at his photo."

"Maybe he has bad teeth," Amma suggested, "and he is trying to hide his teeth by keeping his lips like that. I am not giving Rasika to someone who already has bad teeth. As if she needs that headache."

"We don't know if he has bad teeth," Appa said. He scrolled to the next photo. Rasika waited for their comments. They were both silent. She saw a somewhat puffy-faced smiling man. His teeth looked OK. Was this the "best one"?

Amma said, "He has a brother in this country. He will already be somewhat Westernized, Rasika."

"Just because his brother lives here?"

"His brother will be talking about this country, sending things home. This fellow will be familiar with the U.S. You won't have to worry about someone who is-how do you say? FBI?"

"FOB," Rasika said. "Fresh Off the Boat."

"This one is no FBO. He is Westernized. And living in Bangalore, how can he not be? Bangalore is a world-cla.s.s city. At least that is what they say nowadays. Twenty years ago no one paid any attention to Bangalore. Now all the high-tech companies are there."

"It may be a high-tech city, but I still don't think I could marry someone who grew up in India." Rasika stood up.

"But he is so handsome!" Her mother put her hand on Rasika's shoulder and pushed her back down on the chair. "Just look!"

Rasika looked. He was light-skinned for an Indian, which for Amma meant handsome.

"His field is biomechanical engineering," Appa said. "A very promising area."

"That goes without saying," Amma remarked. "All these fellows are in promising fields. We would not bother showing Rasika someone who is just an arts graduate, after all. Appa has called the travel agent about tickets. We will go in December. The matrimonial agent will send some more photos later on today."

"Amma." Rasika stood up again. "I am not marrying someone who grew up in India."

"What is wrong with India? You are Indian!"

"I'm Indian-American. I don't think I could get along with someone raised in India."

"Look at this girl!" Amma raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "You were born in India. You lived there for eight years. Your own parents were raised in India. Don't you get along with us? Anyway, you will be bringing him back here with you. No one is asking you to live in India."

"What about horoscopes? Aren't you going to check the horoscopes of these guys first?"

"Once we find some good prospects, then we will check. It will all take time. That is why we must hurry."

"I need to go." Rasika ducked away from her mother's outstretched arm and fled to her room.

"You come straight home after that movie!" Amma called. "We must look at the next batch of photos and make some decisions!"

The dinner with Benito was lovely. He had a cute tortilla press that made round circles out of b.a.l.l.s of dough. It would be so handy for making rotis, since whenever Rasika tried to roll rotis they always ended up lopsided, or thick in some spots and paper thin in others. Benito had the sweetest little gas grill on the balcony of his apartment, and he expertly tossed on the beef strips and vegetables he had marinated earlier in the day. He served her a wonderful, fruity sangria.

Now Rasika was on Benito's oversize recliner with her arms around him and her eyes closed, allowing him to nuzzle her neck. She could stop things whenever she wanted. She just hadn't chosen to yet.

She heard, faintly, her phone melody. Benito pressed closer to her. The phone continued to ring. It stopped and started, over and over again.