In Thrity Umrigar’s tenth novel, Museum of Failures, Remy Wadia returns to India to care for his ailing mother. Beset by guilt for the distance he kept from her during his time in the United States — and his failure to realize just how sick she really is — Remy aims to set things right. He also uncovers an old photograph and a family secret that upends his memories of his childhood, just as he struggles himself with being a father.
—Jina Moore Ngarambe for Guernica
They ate dinner in Shirin’s room, Shirin too exhausted to come to the dining table. Seeing her wan face, lined with fatigue, Remy felt a pang of apprehension. Here he was, getting ahead of himself as usual. Mummy looked as if she could slip away tonight.
“Wake me up if there’s the slightest need,” he whispered to Manju after they’d tucked Shirin in for the night. “Keep an extra eye on her tonight. She’s very tired.”
Manju’s lips were a thin line, her face brimming with disapproval at his misadventure from this morning.
He returned to his room but it was too early for him to go to bed. He turned on Netflix on the TV in his bedroom, settling in to watch an episode of The Crown. He had enjoyed watching the show with Kathy, but at this moment, the stiff upper lip stoicism of the British aristocracy got on his nerves. Bloody constipated bastards, he said out loud, then grinned, because he had sounded just like his father. When the episode ended, he turned on his computer to check his emails.
There was an ad for Macy’s which he promptly deleted and an email from Sharon. He opened it hurriedly, thrilled to hear from her. It read:
Hi Dad,
I have some news. I’ll call tomorrow around 7 a.m. your time, okay? Pick up.
Talk to you then.
Love you,
Sherri
Remy shook his head. This was so like Sherri, not giving him the news but building the suspense. She’d probably done well on a test or made the softball team for next summer. In either case, he would hear it soon enough. He caught himself smiling at the thought of his funny, excitable daughter.
Well. If she was calling him at seven tomorrow morning, he’d better get some sleep. He turned up the AC and got under the covers. He heard the cawing of a solitary crow and was immediately reminded of his first night in Bombay. How could it be that he’d already been here a month? Would this be the longest time he would ever spend in India?
He remembered his earlier resolution to bring Sherri here with him when she was a little older. To lull himself to sleep, he thought of all the places he’d take her—the backwaters of Kerala, for sure. Back to Goa, maybe. But also to the non-touristy places. Maybe the ancient stone temples of Osian and the Anamalai Tiger Reserve in Tamil Nadu. And when she was old enough to understand, he’d take her to visit Cyloo’s grave. Yeah, he thought, as he drifted to sleep, he would make sure that Sherri didn’t remain a stranger to India. That would be one way to keep the memory of his parents alive.
The next morning Remy awoke in dark, his heart thudding, unsure of the cause of his anxiety. He tried falling back to sleep, but after a few futile moments, he gave up and rolled out of bed.
He glanced at the clock and decided against going for a run. It was already five-thirty a.m. and he wanted to be home when Sharon called at seven. He showered, then turned on his computer to work for an hour.
He heard Manju help his mother to the bedside commode, and even after they were through, he kept the door to his bedroom shut. He’d go in there after he was done talking to his daughter. In any case, Mummy needed to sleep in today, after yesterday’s exertion. And if Kathy was upset about his email, he would need a few minutes to deal with his emotions after they’d hung up.
The phone rang and he answered immediately. “Dad?” Sharon said.
Remy’s body flushed with warmth. “Hi, sweetheart. Good morning to you.”
“Thanks,” Sharon said. “Except, like, it’s night here.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, of course. Anyway. How are you doing? Let’s hear your big news.”
“Wait. How’s grandma?”
“She’s…you know. She’s doing as well as can be expected.”
“Tell her I said hi.”
“Of course. So, what’s the big news?”
He heard Sharon exhale. “Well, I met with Mr. Pike today.”
“Mr. Pike? Your principal?” Had he misread Sharon’s email? “Are you in trouble?”
“What? No. Dad. Let me talk.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“And he said it was fine. That all the teachers would help me. And Jenna promised to email homework to me every day.”
“Sherri, baby. Stop. I’m not sure what we’re talking about. Are you sick? What’re you…”
“That’s because you keep interrupting me.”
Remy’s lips tightened in annoyance. But he said nothing. He wondered where Kathy was and why she wasn’t getting on the extension, since Sherri was calling from the land line.
“Hello? Dad?”
She’s thirteen, he reminded himself. This separation has to be hard on her, too. “Yes, darling. I’m here.”
“So, is it okay? If we come?”
A pinprick of comprehension lit up in Remy’s brain. “Come here?” he said. “You and Jenna?”
“Daaaad. You’re being silly.” He heard the frustration in Sharon’s voice. “Me and Mom, of course. Not Jenna.”
Had she always talked like this, with such emphasis on every third word or so? Or was this something new? “Mommy has to work, sweetheart,” he said, in what he hoped was a reasonable tone. “In any case, I intend to return home soon. You know, this is just for a short while longer.”
Sharon laughed. “Hold on one second. I’ll go get Mom.”
“Sherri, wait,” Remy said, but she was gone. He rubbed his forehead in confusion. What was the kid talking about? Had she just made up this whole fantasy or what? And why wasn’t Kat picking up the damn phone?
“Hey, hon,” Kathy said. “How’s it going?”
“Hi. I’m fine. Hey, what’s Sharon talking about?”
“So how do you like your birthday present?”
“Huh?”
“Just do me a favor. Pick a day to invite all your friends. We’ll get in on Monday night. So, maybe wait until Wednesday or so. You know, what with the jetlag and all.”
“Kathy. What the fuck are you talking about?”
He heard Sharon in the background say, “Tell him to check now.”
“Go look at your email. I’ll hold.” Kathy sounded bemused, unruffled by his obvious irritation.
He went back to his computer. There was an email sent from Kathy’s Gmail account. He looked at it. No text in the body of the email, nothing except an attachment. Muttering under his breath, he opened it.
It was a picture of Kathy and Sherri, smiling broadly, each of them displaying a full sheet of paper. Remy enlarged the photo and saw that they were holding a printout of an itinerary of a United flight from Newark to Mumbai. On top of each sheet, Kathy had written, in a red magic marker, “Surprise! Happy 40th birthday!”
Remy’s breath caught in his chest. He picked up the phone again. “Are you serious?” he said. “This isn’t some kind of a gag?”
“No, honey. We’re leaving here on Sunday. We would’ve left sooner but the dog sitter can’t come until Saturday night. She’ll drive us to the airport on Sunday and then stay with Walter.”
“But Kat. What about your job? And what about Sherri’s school?”
“I applied for family leave as soon as I read your long email. In fact, I was talking to HR when you called. And the teachers at Hawthorne were most understanding about our predicament. They’ll help keep Sharon up to date. In any case, you know our daughter. She’s not going to fall behind academically, knock on wood.”
“But…how?” Remy ran his hand through his hair. “How could you have possibly put all this together in one day? And why? I mean, I’ll be home soon, I promise.”
“Sherri needs to say good bye to her grandmother,” Kathy said. She lowered her voice. “She just left the room for a second so I’ll talk fast, okay? Listen, she’s really upset about Shirin. More than she lets on. And also, Remy, I need to see Shirin. I…after everything you’ve told me, I owe her an apology. For judging her all these years.”
“Kat, let it go. She doesn’t want apologies from us. And the last thing she needs is for us to hate Dad.”
“I could never hate your father. Look, I was already debating whether to come alone for a week after you’d told me the whole story. But you know whose idea this is? Sherri’s. She said being there to support you at this time was more important to her than anything else.”
“You didn’t tell Sherri any of the family stuff, did you?”
“Of course not. She’s too young for that. But Remy. She’s your daughter. Not much escapes her.”
Except my whole life escaped me, Remy thought. But he didn’t say it out loud. It was hard to talk with the lump in his throat.
After a moment Kathy said, “Honey?”
“Yeah. I’m here. I…I’m in disbelief. It’s like, beyond anything I could’ve hoped for.” A thought struck him. “Wait. How long are you coming for?”
“Well, family leave allows you up to three months’ unpaid leave.”
“There’s no way Sherri can miss that much school. And I…I can’t stay away that long,” Remy said. “I need to be back in Columbus for the Wexner account. I mean, Eric’s done a great job, but how long can I be away from the agency?”
There was a silence. Kathy’s voice was gentle when she spoke. “Honey. I’ll know better after I see Shirin for myself. But from what you’ve described, your mom’s not going to last that long. I’m sorry.”
The tears fell down his cheeks. “I guess,” he mumbled.
“And this what you have always craved, right? For your whole family to be together? Well, that’s what we’re going to do. Celebrate your fortieth birthday in India. With your mother. And your friends. Okay?”
“How did it happen?”
“How did what happen?”
“How did I end up with a wife like you?”
“Don’t thank me. Thank your brilliant daughter. All I said to her after reading your email was that you wouldn’t be back in time for your birthday. And she immediately said that we should fly to India. I was late to work this morning because she insisted I come in and speak to her principal.”
“And…and you don’t think it will be too hard on her? Mummy looks bad these days. She uses oxygen almost all the time now.”
“Sharon’s thirteen. She’s more resilient than we think. We can decide what to do if, you know, things get…difficult at the end. Although I’ll work with her doctors to make sure that Shirin is comfortable at home. That’s another reason I want to come, Remy. To be of use.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Kathy exhaled. “Look, I don’t want to raise our daughter like a china doll. Death is…it’s life, right? I saw a meme recently that said, Cause of Death: Life! Good line, huh? Sharon will be fine. We’ll make sure she is.”
“Put her back on.”
Hearing Sharon’s excitement put the rest of Remy’s doubts to rest. How much easier his stay would be with his wife and daughter here. Everything would feel lighter, more hopeful. Sherri’s presence alone would be a reminder that the current of life flowed forward. In the aftermath of Mummy’s death, he would need to be reminded of this truth. It would be good for Mummy, too, to have them around. He imagined Shirin smiling as an animated Sharon described the play she’d starred in last fall; imagined Kathy and Feroza giggling together as they ganged up against him; pictured Jango and Shenaz taking his daughter out for the afternoon and doting over her in their playful, easy way. Yes, it would be good for Sherri to get to know his friends, to feel that she had a community of aunties and uncles who cared about her. Just the thought of going to the airport on Monday to pick up the two of them and seeing their beautiful, bright faces, cheered him up, lifted the gloom that had wrapped around him these last few weeks. And when the inevitable end came, when the last link to his past was gone, he would have his future putting their arms around him.
“Dad,” Sharon was saying. “Mom thinks we should celebrate your birthday early, like, on Wednesday or something. In case, you know, Grandma isn’t well. But I think we should wait until the actual day? Can you convince her?”
“It doesn’t matter what we do, darling. Because my real gift will be when I see you at the airport.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll understand when you’re a mom someday.”
“Whatever.”
The thought of his daughter rolling her eyes at him from ten thousand miles away made Remy bite down on his lower lip to keep from bursting into laughter.
When Remy finally hung up and walked into the dining room, Shirin was already at the table. Manju had bathed her and dressed her in a blue cotton duster coat, pulled her hair back into a wisp of a pony tail. A shaft of light fell on Shirin as she sat on her high-backed chair, sipping a cup of tea.
Remy smiled at the familiar scent of lavender soap and talcum powder. With her hair tied back and her body swathed in baby powder, Shirin looked like a tiny schoolgirl rather than an elderly woman whose heart was killing her. It was as if, this close to the end, beyond grief, beyond loss, beyond jealousies and betrayals, everything was burnt away and human beings were distilled into the purest essence of themselves. Maybe this is all we are in the end, Remy thought, children again. Maybe that’s where the two ends of life meet—in childhood. It’s so interesting, he thought as he studied her, how closely sunrise resembles sunset. Both color the sky in the same way.
Manju rose to make Remy a cup of tea and he used the opportunity to pull up a chair next to his mother. “Mummy,” he said. “I have some good news for you.”
Shirin turned toward him. In the morning light, her hopeful face opened up to his, as eager to receive good news as he was to deliver it.
“Yes?” she said.
Thrity Umrigar’s novel, Museum of Failures, is out now from Algonquin Books.
