my entire family. I delayed my trip again, wanting to see her healthy before I left. Once I’d reassured her that I planned to return to India after getting more work experience, her health gradually improved.

The evening of our return to Covington, Bob and Evie invited Raj and me to dinner, knowing we would be exhausted from the long flight and the equally long drive from New York. Regretfully, I realized I had forgotten to mention Raj did not eat meat. I could smell the steak as we walked up to their door. Once inside, I introduced Raj to Bob and Evie, and she gave them a shy smile. Evie admired Raj’s sari and made small talk while she set the food on the table and Bob popped open a few beers. I did not mention to Raj that Bob and Evie were living together even though they were not married. It would have been a shock to her, and I thought it best she learns the culture gradually.

While Bob, Evie, and I ate steak, Raj picked at the cheesy cauliflower and ate a few pieces of bread. She didn’t care for the taste of the cauliflower without spices, but she managed to eat most of it. After I drank a few beers with Bob, Raj and I returned to our apartment at around ten o’clock.

The next day, Raj watched me get ready for work. Normally, we drank our tea in bed, but I had forgotten to buy milk, so we could not make tea. During my student life, I was particular about keeping things a girl would like in my apartment, and here I had no milk for my own dear wife who was so new in this country. As I left for work, I promised Raj I would send my secretary to bring milk, juice, and bread to the apartment.

At eight o’clock, I strolled into St. Elizabeth Hospital, only to be greeted by surprised reactions from the administrative staff. When three months had passed and I still had not returned, they’d all placed bets with Mr. Gilreath, saying, “Kris is not coming back from India. He’s decided to stay there.” Then, when they heard I would be returning to work on Monday, January 18, they bet each other that I would not come to work at 8:00 a.m. “Oh, he will show up at noon,” they said, “being a newlywed, and since it’s the first night in his apartment.”

Mr. Gilreath told me he’d had faith in me all along and kept telling them that I would be coming back. He was keen to know all about my wedding. We sat in the conference room, eating donuts and drinking coffee, while I filled him in on the basic details. Bill Poll, the assistant administrator, joined us, as did other administrative staff members. It was not every day that someone left their hospital to go to India and marry a stranger. Before I left the conference room, Mr. Gilreath and I discussed my work and the upcoming projects he planned for me.

Once in my office, I sat at my desk, basking in how good it felt to be back. Suddenly, I remembered Raj needed milk for her tea. Just then, my secretary came in.

“Oh, Mr. Bedi!” she said. “It’s good to see you back! How did your trip go? How was your wedding? You must tell me all about it. What is your wife like?”

Susan was talkative, and while I would have liked to answer her questions, I needed to make sure Raj had milk for her tea.

“Susan,” I said, “would you please buy some milk and take it to my apartment for my wife, Raj?”

Susan’s eyes widened. “Would I? You bet I would!”

She jumped up from her chair and snatched her purse from a hook on the wall. I scrawled my address and apartment number on a scrap of paper as well as several other items for her to buy. Then I gave her some money, and she was out the door.

Reaching for the phone, I called Raj. After a few rings, Raj answered hesitantly.

“Raj, it’s me, Krishan,” I said. “I just sent my secretary to buy milk for your tea. She will be there in a few minutes.”

After I hung up the phone, I started planning the details for my next project, thinking Susan would return in half an hour. However, an hour passed and Susan still did not return. After two hours, I really started to worry and struggled to concentrate on my work. Finally, after nearly three hours, Susan walked into the office with a smile on her face.

I stared at her. “Susan, what happened? What took you so long?”

“Oh, Mr. Bedi,” she exclaimed. “I was talking to your wife. She is just beautiful. I couldn’t leave! It was so interesting to listen to her. I asked her all about your wedding, and she told me everything I wanted to know. It was so interesting that I completely forgot about the time.”

At this, Susan laughed, but I just stared at her in amazement. What did Raj think of Susan? It never occurred to me that perhaps it was not a good idea to send a young, attractive secretary to my apartment. I did not think of Susan as anything but a friendly secretary, but Raj barely knew me, and she knew nothing of my life in America. There were stories circulating in India about successful Indian men returning to India, allowing their parents to arrange a wedding merely to please them, and then bringing the new wife back to the States. Once there, the poor girl would find this stranger already had a wife, a nice American girl he’d fallen in love with. Now, this traditional Indian girl would fall by the wayside with no choice but to return to India a disgrace or find some way to stay in the States on her own and keep the news from her family.

At around five o’clock, I

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