Chapter 22

“That’s ‘corner,’ Ammaji,” Monica told her, looking to Parvinder with a sigh to step in.

“We just thought you’d be more comfortable, Ma,” he told her.

“I will be perfectly comfortable in the guest room,” she assured her son.

“But, that’s right across the hall from our room.” Monica blanched.

“I didn’t come all the way from India to live with my son so that I could live in a mirrored mausoleum. If I wanted to just look at myself all day and never see him, I could have stayed in Hyderabad,” Ammaji insisted.

“Is that still an option?”

By the time Ammaji had grown tired of pestering Monica by outrunning her to the bathroom every morning, Ashok and Mark were broken up; he’d moved his stuff back home first and asked questions—such as, “Can I live here with you for a while?”—later, laying to rest Monica’s hope of peace and quiet or Pilates for once and for all.