The Goddess Effect: A Novel by Sheila Yasmin Marikar

Author:Sheila Yasmin Marikar [Marikar, Sheila Yasmin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little A
Published: 2022-09-30T23:00:00+00:00

18

Hang” after 10:00 p.m. only means one thing, and the prospect of it was a lot more appealing than going back to the hotel, to the room that my mom and I were sharing. I texted her in the elevator down to the Uber: work emergency, don’t wait up, I have a key. I didn’t, but I figured I could get one from the front desk when I came back. If I came back.

I lowered the window of the Honda Accord and breathed in the cool night air, watched Sunset Boulevard morph from buzzy bars and gleaming office towers to manicured lawns and Mediterranean cypresses. Quiet. Quiet was nice, after the fourteen-piece Bollywood jazz band (not on theme, but a sangeet without some rendition of “Desi Girl” would not be tolerated, and in any case, they left Morocco behind when they wheeled out the chafing trays of paneer makhani and garlic naan).

Twenty minutes later, she still hadn’t replied. Was this a new low, getting ghosted by my own mother? Oh, well. At least hot bartender wanted me. At least I was on my way to get some. Look at me, a regular Cardi B, a bad bitch, getting busy.

The doorman smiled and nodded as I walked in. He seemed to know who I was, a good sign, like Jared owning glassware and a nightstand. Maybe he didn’t bring many girls back to his place. Maybe he was waiting by the door with a warm smile and a big glass of wine, eager to envelop me and enquire about my day. The American dream.

The elevator opened, and I could hear French house music coming from the direction of Jared’s condo, the melody of a Yoplait commercial over thumping bass. It sounded like a party. Was he having a party? I was not in the mood for a party, did not want to make small talk, answer questions like “Ooh, what’s that on your hand?” (I’d used the complimentary Cowshed lotion in the Soho House bathroom to scrape off the dried henna with a butter knife. It had stained my skin the color of rust and smelled like a barn.)

My feet kept moving in the direction of Jared’s door because I had come this far. What else was I going to do? The Uber had cost $38.50. I wasn’t getting that back.

I rang the bell. Nothing. I pressed down the handle of the door and let myself in. The bass throbbed like a wall of Jell-O. The living room was dark and smoky and smelled like incense, which reminded me of my mom and her puja place. I thought of her, alone, in the hotel room, wondering why her daughter couldn’t bear to be with her, because surely, she saw through my lie. I would pay for this, at some point. If there was a next life, I’d be coming back as a slug.

There was no one in the living room. An empty bottle of tequila sat on the dining table along with a half-full bottle of rye.

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