The Wishing Trees (27 page)

As they hurried down the stairs, Ian began to worry about their looming separation, wondering if there was anything he could do to soften the blow.

FIVE HOURS LATER, RUPEE WAS WEARING NEW clothes and sandals. His belly was full. Maybe best of all, at least from Rupee’s perspective, was that Ian had opened a bank account in Rupee’s name and deposited five hundred dollars. With his new identification card, Rupee could go to the bank and withdraw small sums of money whenever he was hungry. Because of this arrangement, Rupee wasn’t worried about having to hide his valuables from the other boys. If he found a piece of jewelry, he could sell it, deposit the money, and then live on his earnings.

Rupee had never understood the workings of banks, but Ian had explained to him in great detail how people went about depositing and withdrawing money. Normally, Rupee wouldn’t have been allowed in any bank, but with his new clothes, and with Ian and Mattie at his side, he hadn’t experienced any problems. And the bank manager had been happy to take Ian’s deposit.

Numerous times during the day, Rupee had looked at the sun and thought about how he’d normally be swimming in the Ganga, fighting the current and the blackness, sifting through the silt to try to discover the treasures of the dead. Most days he found nothing more than bits of wood, stone, and bone. He went to bed hungry, sleeping in a half-sunk fishing boat that rotted at the water’s edge. He hid in the boat, lying beside the old wheelhouse, nestled in newspapers, Prem perched on his belly. Rupee always went to the boat well after dark, when the older boys were unlikely to find his hiding place. And he woke up at dawn, returning to the streets or the river.

Now, as Rupee followed Mattie, he couldn’t believe how one chance encounter had so drastically changed his life. He’d eaten in a restaurant for the first time, wore new clothes, had a fortune in a bank, and a girl from America called him her friend. Rupee had never been happier. He felt as if he were flying instead of walking. His mind seemed to sing instead of slumber. Even his eyes felt sharper.

Rupee had never been to the small amusement park on the outskirts of Varanasi, but that was where he, Mattie, and Ian were headed. They’d taken a taxi from the center of town, heading only a few kilometers from the river, but driving by sights foreign to Rupee—gardens and three-storied homes and markets with piles of food and goods.

The entrance to the amusement park was little more than an iron gate flanked by a pair of ticket booths. Ian paid a nominal fee and led Mattie and Rupee inside. Both children were excited. Mattie took Rupee’s hand and hurried forward, past groups of laughing teenagers, women sitting on benches, men taking photos with their cell phones. Though dusk approached, the day was still stifling. The heat was as noticeable as the balloons that sailed upward from the failed grasp of toddlers.

Mattie led Rupee toward a small roller-coaster ride. A metal frame consisting of iron rods rose fifty or sixty feet high. A few dozen people formed a line that ran toward the ride. Ian looked up and saw a black, bubblelike car rumbling down the rails. The car screeched to a halt near the front of the line.

Mattie, who tended to observe a whole scene rather than its parts, tugged on her father’s arm. Pointing toward a rise in the track, she asked, “Daddy, are those people . . . pedaling up that hill?”

Squinting, Ian peered at the car making its slow way up the rise. He saw that no chain or cable ran up the hill to carry the car. In fact, the entire roller-coaster ride seemed to not contain a single engine. “I reckon you’re as right as rain,” he said, wondering how Indian information technology personnel helped to run his company while their roller coaster didn’t have a power supply. “Shall we give it a go?”

“Absobloodylutely,” Mattie replied, rising on her tiptoes to try to peer beyond the people in front of her. Putting her hand on Rupee’s shoulder, she jumped up. “We’re almost there!”

Rupee smiled, giggling at the thought of going on a roller coaster. He’d heard of such rides but hadn’t imagined sitting on one. “Thank you, Mr. Ian,” he said. “Prem and me, we thank you so many times.”

“You’re welcome, Rupee. So many times.”

Another few minutes passed before the trio stood at the front of the line. An attendant pulled a lever that somehow slowed an approaching car. Four laughing teens climbed out of two rows of seats. Mattie and Rupee got in the front seat, while Ian moved behind them. Sure enough, a pair of bicycle pedals was positioned just above the floor in front of Ian. He chuckled and put his feet on the pedals. “Ready, Roo?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Mattie answered, laughing.

“And you, Rupee?”

“Yes, Mr. Ian!”

Ian glanced at the attendant, who motioned for them to get going. Ian started to pedal and the car moved forward with surprising ease. A hill approached, and as soon as the car began to tilt upward, the resistance to the pedals intensified. A click could be heard beneath the car with each revolution of the pedals, and Ian assumed that some sort of safety feature kept the car from sliding backward.

The going was tough and Ian started to sweat. “You ankle biters pedaling up there?” he asked, tousling Mattie’s hair.

She giggled. “Let’s go faster.”

The car continued to lumber upward. “It’s like towing a bloody elephant up a hill!” Ian added, sweating profusely.

“Daddy! Stop being such a baby!”

Rupee laughed, peering over the side of the car, surprised at how high they’d already climbed. He pulled Prem out of his pocket and showed him the view. “Don’t get too scared,” he whispered in Hindi. “I promise we’ll be all right.”

Finally the car reached the crest of the hill, which plateaued for about twenty feet before descending in a series of rises and falls. “Look around, you two,” Ian said, gazing at the distant city. Varanasi seemed to smolder beneath the setting sun. Dead ahead, a pair of naked lightbulbs marked the start of the descent. Encircling the bulbs were hundreds of flying insects.

“Hold on!” Mattie shouted, as the car tipped forward and down.

The descent was faster than Ian would have guessed possible. The car dropped as if free-falling, producing screams from Mattie and Rupee. Ian laughed at the sound of the shrieking children, holding on as the car plummeted and soared. Though the ride didn’t have loops like roller coasters back home, for some reason Ian found this experience more enjoyable. The world rushed past, his heart seemed to skip a few beats, and Mattie and Rupee screamed as if they were on Space Mountain at Disney World.

When they approached the line of people on the ground, unseen brakes slowed the car in a start-and-stop fashion. Ian watched Mattie lean close to Rupee and laugh with him. At that moment Ian’s joy faded. He thought about how he had never given her a sibling, how she was destined to grow up alone, and how he would die one day and leave her with no one.

As such thoughts dominated him, he felt trapped in the battered car. He saw its age for the first time—the rust on its floor, the frayed ends of the seat belt. He watched Mattie help Rupee from their seat and knew that soon they would be separated. Mattie would leave India, and Rupee would be once again on his own. Ian had already decided to spend the next morning researching and contacting orphanages, but he was worried about being turned away. He couldn’t leave Rupee on the streets, but if the orphanages were full or uninterested, what choice would he have?

Mattie took Rupee’s hand and hurried toward the next ride—which looked to involve some sort of water balloon fight. Sure enough, a pair of adversaries spaced about thirty feet apart used oversized slingshots to launch water balloons at each other. The participants stood in a chain-link cage, so that errant balloons didn’t fly into passersby.

“Rupee and me against you, Daddy!” Mattie said, handing their tickets to an attendant. The man explained the rules in English, gave Ian a bucket with ten water balloons, and handed another full bucket to Mattie and Rupee.

Ian joked with Mattie, laughing, trying to fill her with joy even though he no longer felt joyous. I’ve become such a bloody actor, he thought, as he held up a balloon and threatened to throw it at his daughter. Kate’s dead. And sometimes the future scares the wits right out of me. But I have to smile and laugh and pretend that tomorrow is going to be lovely. But what if it’s never lovely? What if I have to pretend for the rest of my life? Soon Mattie will see right through me, and then I’ll only make her sadder.

His stomach starting to ache, Ian chewed on an antacid and picked up a red balloon. Placing it in the slingshot, he pulled back and yelled, “Ready to get wet?”

Mattie and Rupee laughed, working together to arm their slingshot. Mattie shrieked as they let go, and their blue balloon tumbled through the air, hitting the chain-link fence above Ian, dousing him with water. “I see ya be declarin’ war on me, Blackbeard the Terrible,” he said, speaking and snarling like a pirate. “Well, ya scurvy dogs, y’ll be walkin’ thee plank before this day’s dead.” Aiming his slingshot, he let go, howling triumphantly when his balloon burst directly over their heads.

The children shrieked, quickly reloaded, and sent a balloon in his direction. Ian could have ducked out of the way but he let it hit him in the chest. “Y’ve struck a blow,” he shouted, pretending to stagger. “But me ain’t one to run from a brawl. Prepare to be boarded!” He picked up another balloon, which popped in his hands as he tried to load it. “Curse thee cannon!” Another balloon splattered above him. “Ye think Blackbeard will go down so easy?” he said, baring his teeth.

“Have a drink!” Mattie shouted, as she and Rupee fired another balloon.

Ian smiled, a genuine smile, one that at least temporarily denied his pain and fear. He knew that he would make mistakes with Mattie, that he would fail her, that no matter how much he loved her, he wasn’t capable of being a perfect father. And one day he would be gone, leaving her with only memories of him, of their best and worst times together.

He wanted this moment to be one of the best times, something that would give her solace in the years when he was gone. So despite the many aches that compromised his life, he pulled back on his slingshot, told them to fear the wrath of Blackbeard, and launched his yellow balloon.

THE NEXT DAY BEGAN WITH BREAKFAST ON the veranda outside their hotel. Rupee had slept on the floor of their room and now sat next to Mattie, eating from a carton of yogurt. Though usually Ian ordered local food, he’d made the mistake of asking for scrambled eggs and forced himself not to grimace as he ate hunks of watery, half-cooked eggs. Normally, he would have set the food aside and munched on a piece of bread, but in Rupee’s presence, he ate every last bite of the eggs.

Though Mattie had spent much of the previous day laughing with Rupee, she was less animated this morning. They were leaving for Hong Kong the following day, and she didn’t want to say good-bye to Rupee. He knew how to make her smile, how to laugh and be silly. She had forgotten what it was like to have an aching belly after laughing on and off all afternoon. And she loved how Rupee grinned when she took his hand and led him forward.

Ian was eager to start looking for orphanages and paid the breakfast bill as soon as possible. The hotel had a small business center, and he stepped into it, then settled down in front of a computer and a phone. While Mattie taught Rupee how to draw with her colored pencils, Ian got online and started researching orphanages in Varanasi. He worked hard and fast, as he had before Kate had gotten sick. His fingers beat against the keyboard as if it were an instrument. His eyes read groupings of words instead of individual words. He was unaware of the children beside him.

Within an hour, Ian had a list of four orphanages that appeared to be reputable and well run. He picked up the phone and started making calls, being polite but also succinct and aggressive in his line of questioning. There were some advantages to being a foreigner in India, and he relied on these strengths, asking to speak with managers, pushing people when he felt that they were being evasive.

Once Ian had settled on what he thought was the best orphanage in the city, he tried to convince the man on the other end of the phone that Rupee would be a welcome addition. Though Ian spoke about Rupee’s good health and disposition, the man said that his orphanage was filled beyond capacity. Ian reached for an antacid, thinking of a way out. In the end, he promised to make a thousand-dollar donation to the orphanage if the manager would take Rupee. The man was delighted by Ian’s suggestion, and the details of the deal were quickly negotiated.