“Please don’t tell them anything more. We can imply that he’s going back next semester. I don’t want the Chopras being so involved in our lives. Now hurry up.”
Mrs. Jha walked out of the room toward the steps. Rupak heard her footsteps from his bedroom, which was the guest room. There was nothing of his in this room; his parents had clearly not expected him to ever live here. His things were in suitcases and boxes that were hidden away around the house. Most of the furniture in this house was new, and if he were brought to this room, blindfolded, he would never have known that it belonged to his parents. One of the walls was fully mirrored; their Mayur Palli home didn’t have even a single full-length mirror, let alone a mirror wall in every room. Rupak waited until he could no longer hear his mother. He was glad his parents had invited the neighbors over tonight. While his father seemed only happy to have him home, his mother seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him. He knew his parents were not the type to discuss things explicitly, but how could he seamlessly return to life at home after what had happened? Surely it was going to be brought up. And the longer it took to bring up, the more it made Rupak uncomfortable.
What was he supposed to do next? Was he supposed to enroll in an MBA in India? Was he really supposed to pursue a career in film? And in the meantime, was he supposed to settle into living at home and get back in touch with his old friends and develop a life here in Delhi? Was he supposed to date? Was he supposed to let his parents set him up as an apology for what he was putting them through? As usual, he did not feel like he could make any decisions on his own, but he also did not know how to talk to his parents right now. Which was exactly why he needed a drink, but he decided it was best not to have anything to drink tonight. His parents would think he was not taking the situation seriously if he sat and sipped whiskey with the neighbors all evening.
Rupak pulled a cream-colored sweater over his dark blue collared shirt that was tucked into a pair of jeans. He was wearing clean brown leather shoes, and he had shaved. He ran his hand through his hair and went downstairs to meet the neighbors.
His father, in a tracksuit, was coming out of his bedroom at the same time.
“Ah it’s nice to have you at home, Rupak,” Mr. Jha said. “But why so stiff? It’s just a casual drink with the neighbors tonight. You don’t have to be dressed so formally.”
Rupak looked down at his outfit.
“I’m just wearing jeans and a sweater, Papa,” he said.
“You don’t need to, you know. You can wear shorts and a T-shirt,” Mr. Jha said. “Or a tracksuit. Would you like to borrow one? I bought three.”
“I’m fine in this. It’s getting cold anyway,” Rupak said.
“It is. It really is. You know what we need? Central heating. Have you noticed that no homes in Delhi have that yet? Everyone still just has those small room heaters that you have to turn on when you enter a room and then you spend half the evening huddled as close to it as possible. Although, come to think of it, I haven’t been in the Chopras’ home since it started getting cold. I wonder if they have central heating. We’ll get it anyway. It’s important these days. Thank God for global warming. Although, in Delhi, it really should be called global cooling,” Mr. Jha said with a laugh. “Oh, Rupak, it’s good to have you home.”
“Papa, what have you told the neighbors?” Rupak said.
“I was telling your mother about how in Korean homes, you can turn on appliances from your phone. So I suppose the other option would be to get the room heaters but to hook them up to our phones so we could put them on an hour or two before entering the room to make it nice and warm. That could be an alternative to central heating, if your mother insists. But then I would insist on getting a heater in the bathroom also, and I don’t know how safe that would be.”
“Anil, Rupak, what are you both doing standing up there? Come downstairs. The guests are here,” Mrs. Jha said, looking up from the base of the stairs.
“Yes, we are coming. We were just discussing central heating. Rupak also agrees that it’s a good idea. I’m going to look into it tomorrow,” Mr. Jha said. “Global warming, you see.”
“No, I didn’t say,” Rupak said, but he couldn’t finish his defense to his mother because his father was booming, “Dinesh! Mrs. Chopra! Welcome, welcome. Make yourself at home. How wonderful to see you. Johnny, hello. How nice that you could come too. Sit, sit. Wonderful that we can have both sons home as well. This is Rupak.”
“Ah, the prodigal son returns. Or is it prodigy? Prodigal? What’s the word I’m looking for?” Mr. Chopra said, looking around the room. Everyone shrugged. “In any case, welcome home, Rupak. It’s nice to finally meet you. Here, we brought along a bottle of white wine for you from”—Mr. Chopra squinted at the bottle—“Italy. A bottle of white wine from Italy. It’s not quite cold enough for now, I’m afraid.”
“Thank you so much, Uncle,” Rupak said politely. “I’ll put it in the fridge. Please sit.”
“Careful there,” Mr. Chopra said to his wife. “Do not sit on those small pieces of glass.”
“Crystals,” Mr. Jha said. “Swarovski crystals. And they are perfectly safe to sit on.”
“Right,” Mr. Chopra said.
“I like how they glint,” Mrs. Chopra said.
Mr. Jha smiled. “I like that also. I ordered it from Japan. I’d be happy to give you the details if you’d like.”
“So what are we drinking to welcome Rupak home?” Mr. Chopra said.
“Right this way. All the drinks are set out here,” Mrs. Jha said. Even though it was just the neighbors, Mr. Jha had insisted on setting up a bar of sorts on the side table. He had put out all their spirits, glasses, and even a stainless steel ice bucket with tongs that she didn’t remember ever having bought.
“And there’s red and white wine if you prefer. The red wine will just have to be decanted first,” Mr. Jha said, smiling and pointing to a crystal decanter.
“What is that?” Mrs. Jha whispered.
“I bought it from Amazon. I had to have it rush delivered but thank God, it arrived this morning,” Mr. Jha whispered back.
“I wouldn’t mind some white wine,” Mrs. Chopra said.
“You know what? I’ll start with some white wine as well,” Mr. Chopra said. “To toast. And then we can move on to the real liquor.”
“Excellent idea,” Mr. Jha said.
“We could have the one you brought with ice if it isn’t quite cold enough yet,” Mrs. Jha suggested, thinking the guests might appreciate that. So she was surprised when Mr. Chopra laughed and her husband joined in laughing even more loudly.