Yes, well, Ashna wasn’t doormat enough for that. Being vulnerable in her mother’s presence was a mistake. She got herself up off the floor. The tub was full. She turned off the water. “There’s nothing to move past. I’m happy for you. And I’m proud of everything you’ve achieved.” There, she’d said what a dutiful daughter would say. “Good luck.”

“Oh, Ashna, maybe someday you’ll mean that. I have changed the lives of thousands. I’ve worked hard for it. It would be nice to have the person I gave birth to acknowledge it.”

“I’m proud of you,” Ashna repeated, trying to reach into that part of her that still remembered how proud she used to be of Shobi. The water was the perfect temperature. She dropped a capful of eucalyptus oil in. The steam rising from it turned intoxicating. She sank down to her knees again and inhaled it.

“I don’t mean repeat the lie. I mean, actually mean it. You have no idea how badly I wish you could see my life. Understand it. See me.”

“Across the thousands of miles you’ve always put between us?”

Instead of another gasp, another pause followed. A potent pause, filled with things Ashna didn’t want to hear, places she didn’t want to go with the woman who had birthed her.

Ashna skimmed a circle on the water’s surface.

“You’re right,” Shobi said, her voice determined. “Let’s fix that.”

Ashna’s hand jostled the water, disturbing the surface, splashing herself. Why hadn’t she just stayed silent? It was the only strategy that worked with Shobi.

“Actually, that’s why I was calling, I just didn’t know how I was going to ask. So I’m glad you brought it up. Why don’t you come to India?”

Ashna took her face close to the water’s surface. The tip of her nose touched the liquid warmth. The weight of her heavy bun skewed to one side of her head.

“Ashna?” Shobi pushed into her silence.

“I can’t do that.” Her whisper reflected off the water, the mint in her breath mixing with the eucalyptus. She picked out the distinct familiar scents and let her mind linger on each.

“Why? This is the perfect time to come home. Share this experience with me. They asked me to choose someone to introduce me at the awards ceremony and, naturally, I want you to be the one to do it. It’s been too long, beta. You haven’t been to Sripore in thirteen years. Come home!”

Sripore was not her home. “Palo Alto is my home,” she said quietly, “and Woodside,” she added to make sure her punch hit home. Woodside was where her aunt and uncle lived. The people who had been more parents to her than Shobi ever would.