“Disturbing,” said Chiti.
“But accurate,” said Vish.
Next, a timid white woman wearing dangly plastic fruit earrings rose and took the microphone.
“Hi. First of all I just wanted to thank you for changing my life.”
Groans from Chiti and Vish.
“My question is simple: What moments in your life give you solace?”
Ganishka nodded and gently closed her eyes like a cat who has been tickled in the right spot.
“That is a good question,” she purred, and the woman flushed with pleasure.
“Have you ever noticed how much Mum closes her eyes when she speaks?” asked Vish. “It’s like what she’s saying is so true she can hardly stand to bear witness to it with all her senses.”
“To be fair, I think she may have just forgotten her glasses,” said Chiti.
Sometimes, Avery saw Chiti’s desire to love her mother breach the surface of her disdain like a seal cub peeking its head above the ocean. The problem with Ganishka was that you never knew if you were going to get cuddled or clubbed.
“A moment that comes to me now,” Ganishka was saying solemnly, “is the sensation of putting my cheek on my dog’s tummy. I have two of them, and one has a considerable tummy—”
The audience laughed, in part to relieve the tension from the previous question, in part for the gift of hearing one of the fiercest living cinematic minds say the word tummy so seriously.
“Both of them used to be strays,” she continued. “One of them, her mother was killed by a car on the road outside my house. She was so small when I found her that I had to feed her with a pipette.”
Chiti released an involuntary snort.
“Yet she didn’t believe in breastfeeding us.”
“The other dog I stole,” said Ganishka with a proud shrug. “She was tied to a tree night and day near my home, and one day I just took her. I feel it is my duty to liberate the unloved.”
A murmur of approval rustled through the crowd as Chiti snapped the laptop shut.
“That’s enough of that,” she said. Avery checked her face for signs of hurt, but she appeared unruffled. “I’m hungry. You staying for dinner, Vishnoodle?”
He spun around on the island stool and emitted a loud sigh toward the ceiling.
“I’m too heartbroken to eat,” he said.
“What’s this?” asked Avery.
“The new love of Vish’s life,” said Chiti, smiling.
Avery turned to inspect the contents of their large fridge.
“Ah! And when did you meet this new love?” she asked.
“Last night.”
“So it’s serious,” she said.
She removed a bunch of wilted cilantro from the top shelf and tossed it in the bin. She had never been much of a cook and, when alone, still considered cereal an adequate dinner.
“It is!” defended Vish. “She’s cool, man. She knew all the words to Wu-Tang’s ‘Bring Da Ruckus.’ ”
“That is cool,” conceded Avery. “Should we order from the Italian spot?”
“There’s perfectly good food in the fridge,” said Chiti. “I’ll roast some veggies.”
“I like Avery’s idea better,” said Vish. “Anyway, I fucked it all up. I needed to text her something today that would make an impression.”
“So what did you send her?”
Vish hung his head.
“It doesn’t get more predictable,” he said. “More prosaic.”
Chiti inhaled sharply.
“It wasn’t a picture of your penis, was it?”
Vish’s head snapped back up.
“Woman, no!” he yelled. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Chiti offered an apologetic chuckle.
