EIGHTEEN Jessie

EIGHTEEN

Jessie

The last thing Jessie expected was for Gayatri Singh to agree to an in-person meeting at her daughter's chai café in Edison, New Jersey. She wasn't going to turn down the opportunity, though. It was too good to pass up.

Because Jessie wasn't the strongest driver, Ravi manned the red Lexus they'd borrowed from one of his friends. Jessie was still unsure of whether it was a good idea for them to borrow the expensive car, but they couldn't secure a rental like they had planned on such short notice.

"Are you sure you're not upset?" Ravi asked for the tenth time as they pulled into the parking lot of the chai café.

"No," she said again. "It was my fault I forgot that I had a shift this morning, not yours."

She saw his jaw tense, and she knew that he didn't believe her after all the times she told him how important her job was to her. But she had no one to blame but herself. And it was hard to feel guilty when she was so happy. She would've probably been in worse shape if her manager weren't so understanding. Luckily, she was able to trade a shift at the last minute with someone else who desperately needed the free time on a Tuesday night.

"I don't want to get in the way of your work," he said as he nosed the car into a parking spot and shut off the engine. "I promised you I'd be supportive."

With more confidence than she ever thought she'd possess, Jessie cupped his cheek. She enjoyed the rush she felt when he leaned into her touch. "I'll let you know if you get in the way," she said.

"Good," he replied.

They both got out of the car at the same time and headed toward the front door. Before she reached the café entrance, she felt Ravi step up beside her, then slip his hand in hers. Their palms pressed together, and their fingers interlaced. She looked up at him and smiled even as he opened the door for her to walk through first.

"Jessie Ahuja?"

Jessie turned to look at the slender woman in a dark-maroon shirt and khakis step in front of their path. She folded her hands together and nodded so rapidly that Jessie worried her head would bobble off her neck.

"That's me," Jessie said. "Hi, you must be Gayatri Auntie's daughter? The one we've been emailing with?"

She nodded again. "I can take you to see my mother. She hasn't been this excited for visitors in a while."

Jessie looked back at Ravi, who grinned. She was glad that he came along and was willing to flex his family name to get into the good graces of a woman in her early seventies.

They followed Gayatri's daughter toward the back of the restaurant, where they turned a corner and stopped in front of a booth with brown leather bench seats and a glossy hardtop table. Seated on one side of the booth was an elegant older woman with rich black hair, dressed in a matching pantsuit and stylish red glasses. Engrossed in a game of Candy Crush, she briefly looked up when she saw them approach and smiled as bright as a sunbeam. Her gaze locked directly onto Ravi.

"I love your father's website. It's the best way to talk to my family in India."

"Thank you so much. It's lovely to meet you." He leaned down to press a kiss against her papery cheek. "We appreciate that you're taking the time out of your day to answer some questions."

Gayatri giggled like a schoolgirl; then her eyes met Jessie's, and her smile warmed. "You want to talk about Divya."

"I do," Jessie said. "Can we sit with you?"

"Sure, sure."

Her accent carried the faintest hint of India, noticeable in the hard consonants and rounded vowels. She'd graduated from the New Jersey Technology Center two years after Divya disappeared, then went on to marry one of her classmates, who, like both their fathers, became a physician.

Jessie slipped into the booth opposite Gayatri. Ravi's thigh brushed hers as he settled next to her.

"Let's get some chai," Gayatri said. She motioned to her daughter and spoke in rapid Punjabi, the words harder and faster than the soft English she'd used to greet them. Her daughter nodded and slipped into the back room.

"Now," she said, folding her aged hands in front of her on the table. Her nails were painted the same shade of red as her glasses. "What do you want to know?"

"We are writing this story for a class," Jessie said, "but we actually have some information that we didn't share in our email because we weren't sure if it was something you knew about." She reached into her small cross-body bag and withdrew the first letter that she'd read with Ravi. Gayatri's expression shifted into one of shock and dismay.

"Where did you get that?" she whispered as she took the letter out of Jessie's hand. Her eyes began to water. "It's been over fifty years, and I can still recognize these ridiculous letters on powder-blue paper."

Ravi rested a hand on Jessie's knee under the table and squeezed. It was as if he knew exactly what she needed to calm her racing heart. "We were playing a game," she said. "A ridiculous one. We went into Davidson Tower, which has been locked in preparation for the renovation, and we found a desk on the second floor that looked like it survived the fire."

"You found the secret drawer," Gayatri whispered.

Jessie's heart began to pound. "You knew about the letters."

Gayatri Singh's daughter returned with a tray of chai cups and papad. As much as Jessie was eager to try the crispy wafer snack, she was desperate for answers. It had been weeks since they read the first letter, and even though they'd made progress in painting a picture of what happened to Christian and Divya, it wasn't enough.

Gayatri wrapped her hands around the cup and picked it up with trembling hands to take a sip. When she put it back in the saucer, it looked like some of the lines around her mouth had softened. She glanced at the letter between them, then back at Jessie.

"I knew about the letters after Divya had already fallen in love with Christian."

"Do you remember Christian's last name?" Ravi asked.

"Of course I do," Gayatri said, her tone bitter. "He was the president's son, after all. His name is probably all over the university buildings by now."

Not just a person with privilege and power, Jessie thought. But the president himself.

"Hastings," Ravi added. "Divya Das was in love with Christian Hastings."

Gayatri nodded, her face grim. "I was sworn to secrecy, and I've kept up my end of the bargain for over fifty years. But President Hastings died a few years back, and I feel like I can speak more freely now."

"We were right," Ravi said softly. "They were the source of the campus legend."

"Of course," Gayatri said softly. "That's all people could talk about for weeks, then months. But by the time I graduated, people barely remembered Divya's and Christian's names. And those of us who knew Divya and Christian preferred to keep it that way."

"Why?" Ravi asked. "Why not memorialize your friends' love story?"

"Because times were different back then. We learned very quickly that we were not welcome in this country. And to be in love with someone who is White? There was a lot of discussion about it after that big law case."

"Law case?" Ravi asked.

"Loving v. Virginia,"Jessie said quietly. She turned to Ravi. "Loving v. Virginia was decided in 1967, less than five years before Divya and Christian met." It seemed so inconsequential now. Interracial relationships were normal.

"And it didn't just apply to Black and White families," Gayatri said, her accent from decades past hardening her words. "We weren't impacted to the same extent, but it still affected my friends and loved ones. In the end, I don't know if there was a happily ever after for Divya and Christian. And they wanted their relationship to be kept a secret. As a friend, I felt like I should honor their wishes."

Jessie had so many questions. She couldn't stop thinking about the order in which she planned on asking them on the drive to Edison. But now, there was only one that came to mind.

"Can you tell us what Divya Das was like?" she asked.

Gayatri's expression softened. "It's been a long time, but I can still remember how beautiful she was. Her family was very strict. Stricter than mine. But she was still so curious and wanted to try everything. She hoped to be a teacher. It would've been the perfect job for her."

Setting her cup down, Jessie fought back the tremor in her hands, not wanting to reveal how deeply moved she was by the revelation that this person knew precious information about the woman they'd been trying to learn about for so long. Divya wanted to be a teacher. Her family was strict. She was as beautiful in real life as she was in her picture. It was no longer a mere story; it had transformed into tangible history before their eyes.

"We haven't read all of the letters yet, Auntie," Ravi said. "But we do know that the latest one was dated in November of 1972. Do you know what happened to Divya and Christian?"

"I do," Gayatri Singh said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Divya wasn't the only person from her family to be accepted into the program. Her cousin Vaneeta was also a student. Vaneeta and Divya grew up together. Their fathers were brothers and were able to immigrate to the States at the same time. Vaneeta was always jealous of Divya's accomplishments. They were in constant competition since they were children. At least that's the way I saw it.

"Divya and Christian were in the library, in an embrace. That's when Vaneeta found them. I think she followed her cousin, suspecting she was up to something. It took no time at all for that snake to run home and tell Divya's parents."

The hot masala tea scorched Jessie's mouth. "Auntie, did Divya and Christian run away?"

Gayatri didn't answer right away, as if she were still grieving the loss of her friend.

Maybe there was a part of Jessie that thought Divya and Christian had their happily ever after. But the sadness etched across Gayatri's face made this seem like an impossibility. Her teacup trembled. "The next day, Divya came to school crying. She was going back to India. She was getting married. That's what all of our parents expected from us in those days. She said that the next day she was going to run away with Christian before her parents got to the university. They were going to take what little money they had managed to hide and start over somewhere else."

Ravi's grip tightened on Jessie's thigh and she covered his hand with hers.

Gayatri continued. "The plan was absolutely ludicrous. Women, especially Indian women, didn't have power back in the seventies. We constantly fought against a system that never acknowledged us as anything more than charity. I was afraid for Divya, and I told her that. What if Christian gave up on her? She'd have no one. But I hugged her, and I gave her whatever pocket money I had available to me. Then she went to the library, and I never saw her again. That night, there was a fire in Davidson Tower. I always wondered ..."

They were quiet for a long time. Jessie knew there was always a possibility that Divya and Christian set the fire intentionally as a distraction, but it was sounding more and more like what had actually happened. They could've hurt so many other people in the library that night. Did the means justify the ends?

Ravi nudged her in the arm. "Jessie, I just realized something."

She shook her head as if clearing the brain fog. "What is it?"

"What if we look at some of the faculty? They might have been students at the time the fire happened. The newsletter always brags about the retention rate of graduates who come back and teach. Professor Barnard might even be—"

"Barnard?" Gayatri said. "Lydia Barnard?" Her eyes sharpened. "I know her ..."

Jessie's heart pounded, the same way it had when she'd first seen the letters. She looked up at Ravi, whose mouth was set in a thin line.

"We should probably take advantage of those office hours," he said.

Gayatri Singh made a soft sound of understanding, and Jessie turned away from Ravi to look in her direction.

"I understand now," she said softly. Her finger, curled at the knuckle, motioned back and forth between both of them. "You two. You are together."

"We are," Ravi said, his voice resolute.

"But you're going back to your family, and Jessie is staying here," Gayatri added. Her face had such sadness in it, such understanding as she looked at Jessie.

"We don't know yet," Jessie said softly.

"Well, I hope you learn from Divya and Christian," she said.

"Excuse me?" Jessie asked.

The woman's pain was reflected in the glassy surface of her eyes. "Divya and Christian sacrificed their family and friends for each other. If they really found happiness, they would've come back to us. But they never did."

"You think they died," Ravi said softly.

Gayatri nodded. She looked every bit her age now because of the deep lines around her mouth, and the exhaustion etched in her frail frame. "I learned a lot from my education here, but the one piece of advice I still try to follow is something Divya's story taught me. You can't find meaning in someone else's happiness. You have to find meaning in your own. I hope the sacrifices you'll make are worth the fleeting joy you have now."

With that omen hanging over her head, Jessie drank her chai.