Reboot Pt. 01

It was uncomfortable watching - although Sumita's arranged marriage to Rajeev turned out well, she had friends and relatives in both India and America for whom things did not turn out so well. Nothing as bad as the movie, but still.

It's always the women who suffer most, and Radha and Sita were no exception. They weren't really abused, but they were alone, married to men who didn't want them. As the movie went on, it became clear they would find comfort in each other, and the only question was whether they would have a happy ending together. Sumita was in tears from the climactic scene when Radha's sari caught fire until after the credits.

"Night, Mom," Sangita said, gave her mother a hug, and got up to go to her room. She wouldn't be in bed for hours, but she knew Sumita had work in the morning.

"Night, Gita," Sumita replied, and then sat on the couch for five full minutes, collecting herself after the movie. She lay awake a long time after she went to bed, but it wasn't grief that kept her up, or work. She couldn't get the movie out of her head, and when she did sleep, her dreams were not at all restful.

She was all alone in a dark place, wearing her wedding outfit of pumpkin-colored silk, and she had to find Rajeev, but he was gone. The only light was fire. Fire in a stone pit gaping before her, fire crawling across the sky, fire erupting in great gouts from the ground around her. One of those gouts caught in her clothes, first the embroidered sari, and then the long, crystal-studded skirt and cropped blouse. Sumita panicked and ran, which only fanned the flames. They consumed her clothes, but they didn't burn her skin, leaving her naked. And then the fire was gone, and all Sumita could see was Jenna's ice blue eyes, staring back at her wherever she looked.

~~~

Sumita rolled into work around nine forty the next morning, late and grumpy from not sleeping well. Late for her, anyway - many of the other devs got in between ten and eleven. She spent the first hour of her day cleaning up her email inbox, responding to whatever needed answering and filing everything away to keep her inbox down to one screenful. The messages she kept in her inbox were the ones that needed some further action, something she couldn't or didn't know how to deal with first thing on a Monday morning. Sarah's email with Jenna's contact information was at the top of the list.

At eleven, Sumita's calendar showed a new twice-weekly status meeting with Dave, her newly returned lead, the eight other devs who reported to him, and the PMs they worked with. Sumita showed up at the conference room right on time, which meant she was the first one there. Everyone else filed in by five after, and then a small, scrawny guy in khaki Dockers and a blue shirt limped in, with a cane and a full-length brace on his left leg. Dave, obviously. Whatever had happened to his knee must have been pretty serious if he was still limping that badly six weeks after surgery.

The meeting involved going around the table and everyone talking about what they were working on. It seemed like a waste of time to Sumita, but whatever. If a silly status meeting twice a week kept people happy, it wasn't that big of a deal. She didn't get to form much of an impression of Dave - that would come on Friday, in her weekly one-on-one meeting. She wasn't really looking forward to it.

It turned out to be a disaster. Dave started the meeting by informing Sumita that he thought her feature was a bad idea and that he was recommending to Bhavesh that it be cut from the schedule. In the meantime, he suggested Sumita would be better off doing something, anything, else. That rant - it wasn't really an argument, since Sumita didn't get many chances to speak - consumed the first twenty minutes of the half hour, which left very little time for Sumita and Dave to get to know each other. That was fine with Sumita - she had already made up her mind that he was an officious little twit, and that, if anything, Sarah had understated his obnoxiousness.

Aside from her blessedly few meetings, Sumita spent most of her week fighting with her new data table feature. Her boss may have hated it, but it was still her job, and she was looking forward to doing it. Nobody else on the team knew much about it. A completely different team owned the editor; Sumita's team just owned the plug-in library that provided the data table editing stuff. The code she was building on top of was undeniably brilliant, but it was also more than a little idiosyncratic, and it was Thursday before Sumita even felt confident about where to add her new code, let alone how to write it.

Every afternoon around five thirty, Sumita opened Sarah's message with Jenna's email address, determined to do something with it, either email Jenna, file it away in her personal folder, or just delete the damn thing. Every afternoon, she hovered her mouse cursor over the link and almost clicked, but didn't, closing the message instead. The rational part of her brain told her she wasn't over her husband's death, that she wasn't ready to go out with anyone, let alone a woman she barely knew. Another part of her brain couldn't stop thinking about Jenna's ice blue eyes, or about the magic she painted onto her canvasses. The fight between the two always ended in a draw.

~~~

Jenna's painting arrived on Friday night, and it affected Sumita just as strongly as the first time she saw it. She hung it on the wall opposite her bed, where it would get plenty of natural light but never be directly in the sun. She didn't want the bright colors to fade.

She showed her daughter the painting Saturday afternoon. Sangita liked it well enough, but the emotion didn't jump out at her the way it did for Sumita.

"It's really pretty," she said, "but how can you tell they're fighting? I can barely tell they're people."

"I don't know," Sumita replied. "I think it's the way they're facing each other. There's just so much energy between them. Plus, the red and orange and yellow. They look angry and jealous to me."

"Whatever, Mom," Sangita said. "How do you know they're not getting married? Those are wedding colors in India, you know."

"Sangita," Sumita said, getting annoyed with her daughter. "The artist isn't Indian, and anyway, the painting is called Argument. They're definitely fighting."

"I know, Mom," Sangita said, breaking into a goofy smile. "I was just teasing you. I can kind of tell that they're arguing, and I do like it. I can see why you're so interested in this Jenna person. You should call her."

"Gita, I . . ." Sumita said, not really knowing how to finish. She wasn't sure herself what she was going to do about Jenna, and her daughter bringing up the subject left her flustered and tongue-tied.

"Gotta go," Sangita said. "I'm shopping with Dina this afternoon. A bunch of us are getting dinner later, so don't wait for me."

"Okay, Gita," Sumita replied. "Have fun."

Sangita gave her mother a quick hug and dashed out the door.

~~~

The next few weeks went by much like the last. Sumita made some good progress on her feature at work. It wasn't on any of the official schedule reports since nobody understood it well enough to even estimate it, but she did talk to Bhavesh about it a few times a week, and he was happy with her progress. She found out through office gossip that she had landed in the middle of a very long disagreement between Bhavesh and Dave. Knowing Dave's hostility wasn't really about her made Sumita feel better, but it didn't make those weekly meetings any more pleasant.

Afternoon coffee was usually a pretty big group, so Sumita kept her conversation topics uncontroversial. Once or twice, there was cricket on the TV in the corner of the cafeteria, and Sumita sat down with Ravi and a couple other Indian guys to watch, while Sarah and the other non-Indians went outside to enjoy the sun.

At least once a week, though, it was just Sumita and Sarah, along with maybe Meaghan or Carl. On those days, Sumita felt free to gripe about Dave, and Sarah joined in enthusiastically.

"I swear," Sarah said one day, "if he says, 'Now let's all just sharpen our pencils,' one more time, I'm going to scream." Her voice was a pretty good impression of Dave's prissy, condescending tone, and her face was a perfect mockery of his overly serious expression. Sumita burst out laughing.

"Wow," Sumita said. "It's scary how good you are at that. Are you practicing to take his job or something?"

"Oh, god no," Sarah replied, looking horrified. "Even if I do become a lead someday, I will never want Dave's job. He actually likes all the meetings and spreadsheets and crap that Bhavesh and the other leads have to do. Volunteers to do more of it. It's scary how fixated he can get on bug counts and RI calendars."

"It's a good deal for Bhavesh, I guess," Sumita said. "He can dump all that stuff on Dave and keep the other leads happy. It's not such a good deal for us, though."

"Yeah, well," Sarah replied. "What can you do? At least he doesn't get in my way."

"Mine either," Sumita said, "at least so far."

After that, the conversation moved on to happier topics. Project Sprout, Sarah and Meaghan's nickname for Meaghan's pregnancy, was going very well, no problems at all. It was starting to feel real for Sarah, the whole becoming a mom thing, and she was nervous and happy and excited about all of it. She invited Sumita to the baby shower, two Sunday afternoons away. Sumita happily accepted.

Sumita filed away Sarah's message with Jenna's email address so she wouldn't have to see it every day. She was still intrigued, especially after seeing that painting on her wall first thing every morning, but she decided she wasn't going do anything about it. She was still getting used to being a widow and being back at work. Soon enough, she'd have to adjust to Sangita moving into a dorm room at the university. Now wasn't the time to for big changes in her life. That's what she told herself, anyway, and she almost believed it.

~~~

Sarah's baby shower invitation said casual, and Sumita knew she meant it. Neither the tech folks nor the artists were likely to be dress-up types, even for high tea. Sumita wore a knee-length denim skirt and a sleeveless white cotton blouse. Casual and comfy but still festive and feminine. The invitation also said two thirty, and Sumita cursed herself when she walked up to the door at two forty two. She hated being late, even for casual social occasions, where times can be elastic. She had accounted for traffic, but she had to hunt forever for a parking spot near Sarah and Meaghan's building downtown, and she felt like an idiot for not thinking about that beforehand.

She also felt a little edgy, on top of being late, and she had no idea why. She decided it was that she'd only known Sarah and Meaghan for a few months, and she worried about feeling like an outsider among their family and friends. That worry disappeared as soon as walked through the door.

"Sumi!" Sarah said, wrapping her in a brief hug, "I'm so glad you're here. Come on in - Meaghan's in the living room. Can I get you something to drink? We have water, soda, iced tea..."

Before Sarah could finish, the door opened again and a tall, thin blonde in a short yellow sundress walked in. Sarah greeted the woman, named Kate, equally enthusiastically, and Kate bubbled and smiled back and sort-of-but-not-really apologized for being late. Sumita had heard about Kate from both Sarah and Jenna, and the reality matched her mental picture perfectly.

"Not a problem," Sarah replied. "Tea won't be ready until three, and not everyone's here yet anyway. We're just glad you made it."

"A party at Sarah and Meaghan's, and all women," Kate said with a big grin. "How could I resist such a target-rich environment?"

Sarah laughed. "You're terrible," she said. "And anyway, most of these women are happily married. You know, to men."

"You can't blame a girl for trying," Kate replied, and wandered off to find Meaghan. Sarah and Sumita followed, both smiling at Kate's silliness.

When Sumita turned toward the living room, her breath caught at the view. The living room wall was all glass, like her own, but instead of looking out low over a smallish, pretty lake, Sarah and Meaghan's place was high in the air, looking down on Elliott Bay and Puget Sound, and it was majestic. In the bay, Sumita could see two ferries passing, one coming in from Bainbridge Island, the other going out to Bremerton, as well as the water taxi, a container ship heading into the port, and at least a dozen sailboats. The bluff of West Seattle, skirted by Alki Beach, bounded the bay opposite the downtown waterfront, and across the sound to the north, Bainbridge Island and the Kitsap Peninsula rose out of the water, with the Olympic Mountains towering behind them. The sun shone through a break in the light, wispy clouds, painting the water a shimmering silver, too bright to look at for long.

The kitchen was to the left of the front door, separated by a wall from the entryway but open toward the windows. Sumita heard somebody working away in there, but she couldn't see who it was. A narrow table stood by the kitchen door stocked with ice, glasses, and all manner of beverages. Another of Meaghan's illustrations hung over the drinks table, a morning scene on the Seattle waterfront featuring a ferry. Sumita smiled at it, just as she had at the ones in Sarah's office. Meaghan's art could brighten up any spot.

The open living room had obviously been rearranged for the shower, with every available couch and comfy chair brought in for seating, and two round tables supplementing the dining room table. Opposite the kitchen, a cello and a bamboo music stand stood in the corner, and a few plants had been relocated into a semi-circle in front of them.

The music playlist in the background was perfectly chosen, long classical pieces interspersed with more modern instrumental music, from folk to jazz, all of it beautiful and none of it distracting. "This is pretty much the same music I played for Meaghan on our first date," Sarah explained when someone asked about it. "Mozart never goes out of style."

Sumita found herself sitting, mimosa in hand, on one of the sofas between Dianne, Meaghan's lead at work, and Sarah's grandmother Nanami, whom she recognized from the picture on Sarah's desk. In person, the relationship was immediately apparent. Nana was older and full Japanese, but she and her granddaughter had the same easy kindness and humor in their eyes.

Meaghan was on the next couch over, the one that looked like it was there all the time. She was the serene center of all the activity swirling around her. Everyone took a moment to say hello to her - it was her party, after all - and Meaghan greeted them all with the perfect happiness of a cat curled up by the fire.

Two or three more women showed up, and Sarah made introductions. There wasn't any family present beyond Nana and Cheryl, Meaghan's sister in law, but Sarah and Meaghan had lots of friends, from work, the art scene, their birthing class, and elsewhere. In all, there were almost two dozen women at the shower, cheerfully crammed into the too-small space. When everyone else was settled, Sarah plopped herself down next to Meaghan on the couch, who was already in the middle of one of the inevitable baby shower conversations.

"Little Rachel couldn't wait to be born," said Kara, Carl's wife, beaming. "There wasn't even time for an epidural - under an hour from when I got to the hospital until I was holding my baby in my arms. It was absolutely wonderful! I hope it goes oaky for you, Meaghan."

Cheryl piped up after that. "My daughter Grace was bad enough," she said, giving Kara a mildly hostile look, "but her brother Sam was just awful. Three different trips to the hospital with Braxton Hicks contractions, just to turn around and go home again, and then when he finally came, I was in labor for twenty three hours."

The stories went on after that. At home or in the hospital. C-sections. Drugs and no drugs (mostly drugs). Doctors and midwives and doulas. Even Nana jumped in, telling everyone that Sarah's grandfather didn't know he had a daughter until the next morning. That got a laugh. The stories all ended the same way, though, with a distant, glazed look from remembering that wonderful moment when a mother first sees her new baby.

Meaghan smiled through all the stories, unshakeable in her calm, like she knew all of the painful things that would happen to her, and some of the terrible things that could, but she knew somehow it would all turn out right in the end. Sarah, on the other hand, visibly flinched every time she imagined some new disaster happening to her wife or their baby. She looked ill by the time everyone had had her turn.

"What about you, Sumita?" Dianne asked. "You have a daughter, right?"

"Yeah," Sumita replied. "C-section. I was unconscious for most of it, so I don't remember much." She didn't think anyone, especially Sarah, would particularly appreciate hearing about how she almost died having Sangita. How she didn't have a memory of that special moment because of the pain meds. How her first baby would be the only baby she could ever have.

The pair working in the kitchen emerged a minute later, wearing battle-stained aprons over their party clothes. The shorter one was in a green dress, while the taller one wore blue jeans and a white shirt. They were obviously sisters, though the one in the green dress was rounder and softer, and her hair was longer and blonde. They had the same straight nose and the same eyes. Ice blue. Jenna.

Sumita froze in her seat and her nerves flooded back a hundredfold. She had expected to see Jenna at the shower, and she was surprised, relieved, and disappointed all at the same time when she hadn't earlier. Now there she was. Sumita's heart beat faster, and she tried to make herself small, disappear into the couch cushions.

"Tea's ready," Jenna's sister said. "The food's on the counter, and the teapots are in the kitchen."

Meaghan was first, of course. Her party. She filled a plate with yumminess while Sarah got a pot of tea for each of them from the kitchen and a plate of her own. They sat back down on the big sofa, with plates and cups on the coffee table.

Everyone else queued behind the counter after Meaghan and Sarah. Sumita was in the middle of the bunch, next to Dianne, and she was very impressed with the spread. The china was white and delicate, the silver was silver, and the food looked amazing. There were at least a dozen different kinds of tea sandwiches, and they were perfect. Perfect little squares of bread, no crusts, with fillings in ideal proportion. Even ignoring the meats - ham, turkey, smoked salmon - there were too many choices. Sumita settled on egg salad; hummus and olive tapenade; and cucumber, cream cheese, and sprouts. Beyond the tea sandwiches, there were baby quiches, roasted vegetables, and other assorted savory things, and beyond that, the desserts. Cookies, scones, sweet breads, cakes, tarts, and cupcakes, all in bite-sized pieces. Sumita chose four without even looking at the labels, and then added a pile of fresh cherries to round out her plate.

"Did you really make all this, Rose?" Sumita heard someone behind her ask. One of the art people, she thought, though she couldn't be sure.

"Everything," Jenna's sister replied with a confident smile.

"Well, it all looks amazing," the art person said, and everyone around her added their agreement.

Sumita set her plate down on one of the round tables next to Dianne, and then went into the kitchen for a teapot. Jenna was there, standing guard. Her expressions was pleasant and bland, the perfect hostess, but the smile lines around her eyes crinkled when she saw Sumita.