(Source : The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri)
Gerald remembered a bar of French chocolate he he bought on his way home, and this was unwrapped, broken apart, and passed around the table. Eventually the talk turned to India. Gerald asked the questions about the recent rise of Hindu fundamentalism, a topic Gogol knew little about. Lydia talked at length about Indian carpets and miniatures, Maxine about a college class she'd once taken on Buddhist stupas. They had never known a person who had been to Calcutta. Gerald had an Indian colleague at work who just went to India for his honeymoon. He'd brought back spectacular photographs, of a place built on a lake. Was that in Calcutta ?
"That's Udaipur," Gogol told them. "I've never been there. Calcutta's in the east, closer to Thailand."
"What's Calcutta like ? Is it beautiful ?" asked Lydia, fishing out a stray piece of lettuce and eating it with her fingers.
He was surprised with the question. He was accustomed to people asking about the poverty, about the beggars and the heat. "Parts of it are beautiful," he told her. "There's a lot of lovely Victorian architecture left over from the British. But most of it's decaying."
"That sounds like Venice," Gerald said, "Are there canals ?"
"Only during monsoons. That is when streets flood. I guess that is the closest it comes to resembling Venice."
"I want to go to Calcutta," Maxine said , as if this had been a thing denied to her all her life.She got up and walked over to the stove.."I feel like tea. who wants tea ?"
But Gerald and Lydia decided against tea tonight, there was an I, claudius video they wanted to watch before bed. Without tending to the dishes they stood up, Gerald taking their two glasses and the rest of the wine. "Good night, dear," Lydia said, kissing Gogol lightly on the cheek and went up the stairs.
"I suppose you've never been subjected to someone's parents on the first date before," Maxine said once they were alone, sipping milky cups of Lapsang Souchong from heavy white mugs.
"I enjoyed meeting them. They're charming."
"That's one way of putting it."
They remained awhile at the table, talking, the sound of the rain echoing in the enclosed space behind the house. The candles shrink to stubs. Silas, who had been softly pacing on the floor, came and pressed his head against Gogol's leg, looking up at him, wagging his tail. Gogol bent over, patted him tentatively.
"You've never had a dog, have you ?" Maxine asked, observing him.
"No."
"Didn't you ever want one ?"
"When I was a kid. But my parents never wanted the responsibility. Plus we had to go to India every couple of years."
He realized it was the first time he'd mentioned his parents to her, his past. He wondered if perhaps she would ask him more about these things. Instead she said, "Silas likes you. He is very picky."
He looked at her, watching as she undid her hair, letting it hang loose for a moment over her shoulders before wrapping it thoughtlessly around her hand. She looked back at him, smiling. Once again he was aware of her nakedness beneath the cardigan.
"I should go," he said. But he was glad that she accepted his offer to help her clean up before leaving. They loitered over the task, loading the dishwasher, wiping down the table and the butcher-block island, washing and drying the pots and pans. They agreed to go to the Film Forum on Sunday afternoon, to see the Antonioni double feature that Lydia and Gerald had recently been to and recommended over dinner.
"I'll walk up to the subway," Maxine said when they were finished, putting a leash around Silas., "He needs to go out." They went up to the parlor level, put on their coats. He heard the the sound of a television faintly through the ceiling. He paused at the foot of the stairs. "I forgot to thank your parents," he said.
"For what ?"
"For having me over. For dinner."
She linked elbows with him. "You can thank them next time."
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