Staying with the belief...

Both women breathed a grateful sigh as their sixteen year-old daughters slammed the car’s rear door and simultaneously yelled, “Bye, mom.” Ruby and Beena watched the two girls head for a group of animated, similarly clad teens, all waiting for the Doon’s High School bell to ring.

“God,” said Beena Bhargav. I can’t believe how calm it is in here when those two get out. Blessed relief!”

Ruby, still watching through the window, responded only with a nod, and then quietly said, “You know, Beena, except for the skimpy clothes those girls wear now, that could be us— twenty years ago.”

Beena was quick to answer. “Yeah, but you know what? I think what the kids are wearing nowadays beats the hell out of the stupid stuff we wore back then. I mean, those ugly granny dresses and sandals—”

“Headbands and fifteen hundred bracelets.”

“Right, and no makeup.”

“At least we wore our bras on the inside!”

“You mean when we were actually wearing one.”

Both women laughed at the memory, and Beena, whose turn it was for the car pool, re-started her ancient Mercedes 300 diesel. She turned it, clattering, out into traffic, complaining. “Listen to that, Ruby. Sounds like the garbage truck that’s always late getting to our block.”

“Bull.”

“I wish. I guess we had our own version of peer pressure, didn’t we?”

Both mothers had another chuckle and fell silent. It was Friday, and Ruby was glad of it. On Tuesdays, Beena drove, and on Thursdays, Ruby did. They both rode together on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, dropping the kids off, and then going to their aerobics class at the YMCA. Ruby looked forward to the Fridays, for two reasons: First, she and Beena always finished up the morning part of their routine by going to Polar Bear Ice Cream Parlor after the exercise class, where they promptly destroyed most of the workout by consuming huge banana splits. And second, Ruby knew she would then have some respite from her old high school rival over the weekend, knowing Beena usually went out of town somewhere with her latest boyfriend.

While they bounced and semi-seriously high-stepped through their class, Ruby Jagpal allowed herself another smile over Beena’s recital of the teasing rhyme she had once so despised, which, until this morning, she had deleted from her memory file. She wasn’t at all certain that Beena hadn’t been the original author, either.

Beena, Ruby reflected, had tried hard. She was always trying hard. Ruby knew that Beena, who still had her cheerleader’s figure, needed the aerobics class not so much to keep it as to have friends. Well, at least one friend. Beena Bhargav couldn’t stand to be alone, even if it had to be Ruby who supplied the necessary company. Yet, Ruby also recognized the feminine phenomenon of her own need to have a rather close confidante, and therefore had perpetuated the co-dependency. She knew they would never be totally honest with each other, but also knew they would always use each other as sounding boards for their frustrations and foibles—without having to pay the high price of betrayal.

This tacit arrangement, with all its air-kissing superficiality, was not deep friendship, certainly, but in a small town like Doon, it was enough. For both of them.

They left the Mercedes parked half a block from Polar Bear. “Aren’t you going to take your keys in with you, Beena?”

“Nah, that car’s too old for anybody to steal. After my divorce, I got a real kick out of driving it. You know, it was a new Mercedes after all, and I knew it pissed Jatin off to see me driving around town in it, the bastard. I keep thinking I’ll get rid of it someday, but it’s still reliable, it’s well insured, and the heater and cigarette lighter still work fine. Come on, let’s get that banana split. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

They took their usual booth and were not there two minutes before Polar Bear’s Balli brought the coffee and twin mountain peaks of pure sin. Between bites, Ruby commented, “Old Balli doesn’t look a day older than he did when we were in high school.”

“You’re right. It’s good to know some things never change.”

“Just the prices.”

“It’s worth it. God, this is good, but I’ll tell you something, Ruby, we’re gonna have to start doing this once a month instead of once a week.”

“I know. It takes more and more work to get it off.” Ruby looked down at the chocolate and caramel-covered goo, wondering how long this time it would take Beena to bring up the subject of their marriages—the last part of their Friday ritual. Ruby could do without that, but she knew Beena needed the weekly catharsis. Eighteen years ago, Arpit Jagpal (the most wanted, tall-dark-n-handsome guy) had surprised them both by marrying Ruby. Furious, a rebounding Beena had swiftly seduced, and married Jatin Bhargav, the fattest boy in their class— and the son of the richest man in town. Back then, like every other girl in their school, they had worshiped only tall, good-looking boys, especially quarterbacks of the football team.

But quarterbacks on small town high school football teams rarely make it to the big time, while chubby sons of small town bankers who follow in their dad’s footsteps often become quite wealthy. Some of them, like Jatin Bhargav, eventually realizing they married the wrong woman, go to the fat farm and trim down, and though it was costly, get a divorce. Beena had gotten her daughter, the big house, a large cash settlement—and the Mercedes.

After her divorce, one of Beena’s early boyfriends had been a broker who had helped her make some shrewd investments. Then, she had run through a ten-year string of lovers. However, to her everlasting credit, Ruby reminded herself, Beena had never made a play for Arpit.

Walking back to the car, Beena said, “You know what’s coming up this weekend, don’t you?”

“Yep. But this time I think I’ll skip the hen party.”

The previous year, Ruby had let Beena take her into a trip to Delhi at The Taj during the Christmas weekend. Arpit hadn’t minded her going, having already planned hosting all his pals for the big game. “No,” Ruby added. “I thought I’d never finish cleaning up all that mess they made last year. I’ll pass this time, Beena.”

“Too bad. You’re a helluva lot more fun when you have a couple drinks and let go. I’ll never forget when you stuffed that five-dollar bill in that stripper’s jock strap. You sure took your time doing it.”

“He wouldn’t hold still long enough for me to—”

“That’s a white lie, Ruby. You enjoyed it. Why won’t you admit it?”

Ruby smiled. It was true. She really had enjoyed it. All of it; getting really dressed up, the drinking, the brief stab at gambling, and yes, even the male strip show. A taste -- one tiny glimpse of life-in-the-fast-lane after twenty years of Doon -- was fun, but that’s all it was. A surreal, temporary lark -- for two days and one night, like watching a home movie of someone that wasn’t herself. Plus, the headache she had suffered on the drive home the following day had convinced Ruby that once every twenty years was enough!

Beena wouldn’t let it go. “And that cute guy from US really liked you. You should have made it with him. You know damn well none of us would have told anybody. Joe would never have known.”

“Maybe not, but I would have. He sure tempted me, though.”

“That man could have tempted a nun. I don’t know how you’ve stood it all these years, Ruby. I admit I was mad as hell when Arpit chose you over me, but when I saw what he turned out—Oops, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t, Beena.” Of course you meant it, you silly bitch. You didn’t have to actually say it. Arpit dropped out of college, didn’t he? Couldn’t hack it, could he? Best he could do was open Jagpal’s Dry Cleaners and plug away all these years… But it was a decent living, wasn’t it? We did okay. Hard work for nearly twenty years, but we made do. With me working alongside of him most of those years, we managed a modest little slice of the Indian Dream in spite of it all.

“Sure you won’t change your mind and come along with us? My treat this time.”

“No, Beena. I’m going to help Arpit this time around with his Christmas party. Less clean-up hassle. Besides, if all they drink is beer, it won’t be so bad. It’ll be good to see Arpit having some fun. Maybe next week we can go see that movie you were talking about. The one Shah Rukh is supposed to be so good in.”

“Sure. Why not?”

Beena drove the Mercedes carefully into Ruby’s still ice covered driveway, honking the horn at Arpit, who grinned, waved, and continued shovelling the last remaining snow from the sidewalk in front of their small bungalow. Both women sat there in the warmth of the car for a few more minutes, mutely watching Arpit’s methodical work.

With a soft sigh, Ruby opened the door on her side and started to slide out. Just as she did, Beena reached over and grabbed Ruby’s hand. In almost a whisper, she said, “I’ll never understand you, Ruby Jagpal. Why did you settle for so little when you could have had so much more?”

Ruby got out of the noisy car, and before slamming its door, she leaned back in and answered, “Well, Beena, I guess he’s a lot like this old Mercedes. He’s too old for anybody to steal, but he’s reliable, well insured, and you know what? His heater and cigarette lighter still work just fine. See you Monday.”