Natasha smiles. “I mean, I know you don’t really get how it feels to hit a point so low that you’re totally lost, but, yeah, I do wonder if there’s something with our family that makes some of us prone to it.”

Suhani bites her bottom lip. Natasha has no idea about the low points she’s hit. Nobody does.

“Um, are you okay?” Natasha asks as she scans Suhani’s face. “I know it’s weird for me to ask you that, considering where I am right now, but still.”

Suhani smiles. Now isn’t the time to tell Natasha she’s so tired of trying to be perfect all the time. What does being the good girl amount to, anyway? It doesn’t protect you. It definitely doesn’t ensure you’ll be happy. Ever since she could remember, every victory gave her a brief, fleeting high. But the goalpost was always moving and she was soon chasing the next one. Perfect GPA, perfect body, perfect manners. She thought it would lead to a sense of security at some point. But all of it only continued to leave her in this limbo between achievement and the persistent, gnawing feeling that she’s not good enough.

“I’m totally fine,” Suhani says. “And regarding something running in our family, I do see your point.”

Natasha peers at her the same way she did before, as if she knows Suhani is keeping something from her. But before she can say anything, Suhani changes the subject and they stick to safe topics for the rest of her visit: a funny joke Anuj made when he stopped by with Dad and Mom last night, how Natasha plans to stay in touch with her roommate, the quirks of the different nurses on the ward, and the excitement of her being out of here in twenty-four hours.

Twenty-Seven

Bina

Natasha is already waiting for Bina by the time she reaches the ward. No matter how often Bina sees her, she can’t ever get used to the image of her daughter in these gray scrubs. Her pulse quickens at the thought of Natasha wearing her ratty Georgia State hoodie and sweat pants in a matter of hours. Who ever thought she would miss the disheveled clothing?

“Beta, I can’t believe you’ll be out of here soon.” Bina gives her a hug and hands her two yogurt containers, which she still reuses for food storage. The habit started when she and Deepak moved to America and couldn’t afford glass containers. The kids would sometimes get annoyed thinking they were opening a tub of yogurt, only to find leftover chole or a ball of dough.

“Mooooom,” Natasha says, stretching out the word, pretending to be annoyed but smiling as she takes the dhokla. “You didn’t need to bring me food. We’re literally going home in an hour.”

“And what if you got hungry during that time?” Bina says.