(Thank you, Alaskans, for reading this. I can look at the stats now, and I see that many people in Alaska are following along. I appreciate it!)
Rohit looked at warily as his grandparents as they entered the back door of the house. He was wearing Pink Floyd pajama pants and an old t-shirt stained pinkish in the laundry, and was standing at the counter eating Cocoa Puffs.
"That is not a breakfast for a growing young man," scolded his grandfather before turning back to his grandmother to bicker in Hindi.
"Issues," said Rohit. "You two have issues."
His grandparents ignored him, as his grandfather reached for Best Buy catalog. Rohit nodded; his grandfather was addicted to gadgets and wanted everything money could buy that could be plugged in, charged, or remotely controlled. His grandmother, more practical, worried that their suitcases would explode from overpacking on the way back home to India.
"Rohit,"said his mother coming from her basement studio. "Thank goodness. Come."
He followed, carrying his cereal, as his mother beckoned him into the hallway and reached for her purse.
"You must take your cousin away," said his mother urgently. "I have the Artists Tour tomorrow, and my studio is not yet ready. I need some peace and space today."
Rohit sighed extravagantly. "Me?" he asked. "Why me? Can't he be with Nana and Nanima today?"
"No," said his mother firmly. "They are going with Auntie Priya and Uncle Carlo to the Hayden Planetarium, and her car only seats 4."
Rohit knew an excuse when he heard one -- he was a teenager and spoke the language well -- but also sympathized with his mother. Peace, quiet, personal space. All of this that Rohit took for granted in his three-person household had vanished when his relatives arrived. And his cousin, Jairaj, was the worst offender.
"Okay," he said. "I'll take him out."
His mother leaned forward to kiss Rohit on the cheek and handed him forty dollars. "Jairaj will be ready to leave in thirty minutes," she said. "I'll drive you to the bus stop."
Rohit frowned. "Bus stop? Where are we going on a bus?"
"Oh," said his mother, no longer meeting his gaze. "There's something for Jairaj at the mall."
Rohit felt that he was being told only part of the truth, but he finished his cereal and nodded at his mother.
Rohit looked at warily as his grandparents as they entered the back door of the house. He was wearing Pink Floyd pajama pants and an old t-shirt stained pinkish in the laundry, and was standing at the counter eating Cocoa Puffs.
"That is not a breakfast for a growing young man," scolded his grandfather before turning back to his grandmother to bicker in Hindi.
"Issues," said Rohit. "You two have issues."
His grandparents ignored him, as his grandfather reached for Best Buy catalog. Rohit nodded; his grandfather was addicted to gadgets and wanted everything money could buy that could be plugged in, charged, or remotely controlled. His grandmother, more practical, worried that their suitcases would explode from overpacking on the way back home to India.
"Rohit,"said his mother coming from her basement studio. "Thank goodness. Come."
He followed, carrying his cereal, as his mother beckoned him into the hallway and reached for her purse.
"You must take your cousin away," said his mother urgently. "I have the Artists Tour tomorrow, and my studio is not yet ready. I need some peace and space today."
Rohit sighed extravagantly. "Me?" he asked. "Why me? Can't he be with Nana and Nanima today?"
"No," said his mother firmly. "They are going with Auntie Priya and Uncle Carlo to the Hayden Planetarium, and her car only seats 4."
Rohit knew an excuse when he heard one -- he was a teenager and spoke the language well -- but also sympathized with his mother. Peace, quiet, personal space. All of this that Rohit took for granted in his three-person household had vanished when his relatives arrived. And his cousin, Jairaj, was the worst offender.
"Okay," he said. "I'll take him out."
His mother leaned forward to kiss Rohit on the cheek and handed him forty dollars. "Jairaj will be ready to leave in thirty minutes," she said. "I'll drive you to the bus stop."
Rohit frowned. "Bus stop? Where are we going on a bus?"
"Oh," said his mother, no longer meeting his gaze. "There's something for Jairaj at the mall."
Rohit felt that he was being told only part of the truth, but he finished his cereal and nodded at his mother.
