The Space Between Us by Thrity Umrigar

Author:Thrity Umrigar [Thrity Umrigar]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780061752605
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2005-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

“Well, that was a fun evening,” Viraf says during the drive home. His hands on the wheel are steady, and he drives swifly through the uncharacteristically deserted night streets. “An evening filled with typical Parsi chauvinism, the usual bullshitting by drunken Parsi gentlemen, and of course, let’s not forget the oily, aggressively nonvegetarian food. So much for our diet.”

“Wonder which one of the guests will drop dead of a heart attack tonight,” Dinaz adds.

“Oh no, dear, that won’t be until the actual wedding feast, when they eat the full, cholesterol-filled, five-course dinner,” Viraf replies promptly. Dinaz and Sera both giggle.

“Children, children,” Sera protests weakly. “Stop being so mean. Aban is my oldest friend.”

“Oh, no offense to Aban aunty,” Viraf says. “She’s a darling, a dear, and a lamb. In fact, we’re planning on running away to Switzerland first thing tomorrow morning. She’ll be waiting for me at V.T. Station. We’re taking the train to Switzerland.”

Dinaz smacks Viraf on his thigh. “Stop with your koila jokes, yaar,” she says. “I swear, your sense of humor is going from bad to worse.”

But Viraf is unstoppable. “She has promised to educate me on the superiority of Parsi culture during the journey,” he continues. “Did you know that the Parsis invented honesty?” Glancing at Dinaz, who is trying her best not to laugh, he says, “It’s true—ask anyone. On July sixteenth in the fourth century B.C., the Parsis—or I should say the Zoroastrians—invented honesty. The next day, they invented goodness and charity.”

Sera groans. “Okay, Viraf, okay…”

“Wait, I’m not done. Aban aunty also wants to discuss with me the possibility of starting a movement to lead the Parsis back to their ancestral home in Iran. The great Persian empire will rise again. Hey, if the Jews could claim Israel, why not we Iran? So, who knows? We may give up Switzerland and go directly to Iran. Today, Bombay. Tomorrow, Iran. Repeat after me: Tomorrow, Iran.”

Dinaz turns back to face Sera. “I swear, if this gadhera ever drinks again in front of me, I’m going to kill him. I just hope our baby doesn’t inherit his father’s stupid sense of humor.”

Viraf grins happily. “Scoff as much as you want, my dear,” he says. “I’ll send you a postcard from Iran.”

Sera closes her eyes. It has been a long day, and she is exhausted. She is amazed at how drained she feels. Either I’m catching a cold or I’m just not used to these big parties anymore, she thinks. Dinaz has often told her that she has become reclusive since Feroz’s death, but until tonight, Sera had not really thought much about the subject. She knows it is one of the reasons Dinaz insisted that she and Viraf move into Sera’s home. During those six months after Feroz’s death and before the children moved in, Sera had found little reason to leave the house other than to go check on Banu. Finally, Dinaz and Viraf had stopped by one evening and made their offer. “Our little flat is too far from our jobs, Mummy,” Dinaz had said.

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