Who Will Catch Us As We Fall Read Online Free Page B

Grace blushes. He is good looking for a muhindi boy. Big and strong, more like an African.
    â€˜What shall I make for dinner?’ she asks Pooja.
    â€˜What’s in the freezer? I bought some meat last week.’
    â€˜Chicken, beef, mince.’ Grace turns her eyes upward, searching the mental image she has of the fridge. Scratches her head, hot beneath her scarf; pounds it slightly.
    â€˜We had chicken last night. How about spaghetti?’
    â€˜Don’t feel like anything so heavy.’ Raj pats his stomach. ‘I’ve had too many karogas this week.’
    Pooja stifles a snap. She has never liked the fact that Raj goes to these outdoor meals with his friends, hiring out a table at the back of the restaurant, all the men gathered around huge silver pots on coal stoves, their faces steaming from the chicken masalas and fish tikkas, and drinking bottles of whiskey until midnight or sometimes later. ‘If you stayed at home with your family instead of gallivanting with your drinking buddies…’ she reprimands him as Grace waits at the edge of the carpet, wondering what it feels like to have so many choices. Too confusing.
    â€˜There’s fish.’ She offers help. ‘ Teelapia .’ Before she had come to work for the Kohlis, she hadn’t known that there were so many different kinds of fish. Teelapia. Red Snapper. Toona.
    Pooja nods. ‘I think Leena still likes fish.’
    Grace grunts her acknowledgment, desperate to get out of the room and rip off her scarf; the new girl at the salon had tied the braids too tight. When Pooja waves her away, Grace tiptoe-flies out in the direction of the garden. Kidha is there. She might go and share her biscuit with him.
    The three Kohlis look at each other. Look down. Look away. They each wait for one of them to speak, not wanting to be the first. Raj lifts his wife’s feet from his lap and reaches out toward the tea. But she is too quick for him, slapping his hand away. ‘Since when have you poured tea? You talk and I’ll do it. Come on,’ Pooja prods chirpily, lifting the pot. ‘Talk, talk.’
    â€˜She seems happy to be home,’ he says, and is met with two sets of lifted, dubious eyebrows. A twitch of his son’s mouth. Just wait until you’re married.
    â€˜Not really, Dad.’
    â€˜She’s just tired from her trip.’ Raj accepts the tea from his wife. She leaves the tea bag in the cup, no milk. Three teaspoons of sugar.
    â€˜You want diabetes?’ she often says to their friends. ‘Ask Raj. He has the pur -fect recipe.’
    Jai speaks hesitantly, guilty for talking about his sister while she is in the house, and he lowers his voice. ‘Does she seem a little fragile to you?’ He considers telling them about the odd breathing she was doing in the car, blowing up her cheeks and vibrating her lips, clutching her stomach so tight that her fingernails turned white. No need to worry them.
    â€˜If she says she’s okay then we should believe her.’ Pooja is firm. ‘We have enough problems, no need to go searching, digging for more.’ She dips her biscuit into the tea, watches as the crust of the chocolate turns soft and catches it in her mouth just as it begins to fall apart. Her skin breaks out into a shiver, as it always does when she is forced to think about what happened. ‘It’s been four years now. Why bring back the ghosts?’
    Later that night, Leena raps lightly on her brother’s partially opened bedroom door. ‘Knock, knock.’
    He looks up from his laptop, sliding off his headphones. ‘It’s you.’ He is pleased to see her and pushes back his chair to stand, rolling out the stiffness in his ankles.
    She looks around as she steps into the room. Gone is the baby blue she remembers, the haphazardly stuck Rocky and Arsenal posters and clothes-strewn floor. Now the room is simple and clean, with gray-tinged green walls