The Bones of Grace Read Online Free Page B

terrifying to them, and had never been uttered.
    Bettina came through the door with two of her fellow anthropologists, Suzu, who wore her blonde hair in a pile of dreadlocks, and Chandana, an Indian woman I had never particularly liked. I wondered who had invited her. ‘Hey girl,’ Bettina said, ‘we’ve been looking for you.’
    â€˜I was dealing with Kyung-Ju. She’s drunk.’
    â€˜I know. She threw up in the kitchen.’ Bettina leaned against the railing, while Suzu pulled a red packet out of a small purse she wore around her neck. Chandana joined me on the porch step, sitting a little closer than I wanted her to.
    â€˜Brian’s taking her home now.’
    â€˜I don’t think she’s used to drinking,’ Suzu said. ‘What did you put in that sangria?’
    â€˜Nothing,’ Bettina said.
    â€˜She’s rebelling,’ Suzu said. ‘Do they drink where you come from, Zubaida?’
    â€˜Yes and no,’ I said, recalling the parties I had gone toin high school, where the booze was in plain sight. ‘Officially, no. But everyone drinks.’
    â€˜Everyone? Surely not everyone. Not the farmer, or the rag-trade worker,’ Suzu said, lighting a cigarette.
    I rolled my eyes. ‘When I said everyone, I meant everyone I know.’
    â€˜Zubaida doesn’t like us to have stereotypes about Bangladesh,’ Bettina said.
    â€˜Like what?’
    â€˜Like that it’s full of fatwas and poor people,’ Bettina said, looking to me for approval.
    I was feeling contrary, so I said, ‘Except that it is.’
    â€˜Oh, fuck that. You spend three years lecturing me and now you’ve what, changed your mind?’ The scent of Suzu’s clove cigarette enveloped us in a spicy, acrid fog.
    â€˜Suzu,’ I said, ‘it’s like 1993 in your mouth.’
    â€˜So you’re saying your country is portrayed accurately in the Western media,’ Bettina persisted.
    â€˜It’s exactly like that. Political in-fighting, radicals on the loose, child marriage, and climate disaster around the corner. No one should want to go anywhere near it.’
    Suzu turned her thumb ring around and around. ‘I have no idea what you guys are talking about,’ she said.
    â€˜That’s because you’re smoking that shit,’ Bettina said, waving her hands in front of her face. ‘Zubaida met someone.’
    Suzu dropped her cigarette and pressed it into the grass. ‘I thought you had a boyfriend.’
    â€˜I did. I do.’ I wanted to change the subject, so I turned to Chandana. ‘What about you?’ I asked. ‘Dating anyone?’ She was one of those Indian women who adorned herself with enough silver jewellery to set off a metal detector. Her ears were pierced in multiple locations, her nose had a ring with a chain that connected to her earring, and herbangles chimed every time she raised her arms. Bettina hadn’t given herself permission to make fun of her until I started calling her ‘full bridal’, because, as far as I knew, only a fully decked out Indian bride would wear a nose-ring like that. I assumed Chandana had many sexual conquests, that she would marry an ethnomusicologist or a sculptor, but she said, ‘Oh, my parents will only approve if I marry a Tam-Bram.’
    I knew what she meant, but Suzu and Bettina did not. ‘A Brahmin boy from my home state, Tamil Nadu,’ she explained.
    â€˜That doesn’t make any sense,’ I said.
    â€˜Doesn’t it?’
    â€˜So how does it work?’ Bettina asked.
    â€˜Every few weeks I get a phone call, and it’s some banker or doctor on the other end, and he’s the nicest guy in the world, and so boring he could put a rabid dog into a coma. And then we go out on a date to an expensive restaurant, and then I go home and tell my parents he’s not the one.’
    â€˜Do they mind?’ Suzu asked.
    â€˜What