The Lowland

were she to come in after eleven at night.
    The bed was high, the dark headboard thin, the double mattress covered with a white cotton spread. A small television on the dressing table, lace curtains in the window, filtering a quiet light. She looked at the books in the bookcase by the bed. She pulled out a volume of Montaigne and put it on the nightstand.
    Those were my father’s books. He taught at the university. Lived in this house until he died at ninety-five. Refused to leave it. Had to get him a child-sized wheelchair in the end, because the doorways are so tight.
    The professor’s name, when Gauri asked, sounded familiar, but only vaguely. Perhaps she’d once taken a class with him, she couldn’t recall.
    She freshened up, putting on the sweater she’d packed. The room was drafty, the fireplace just for show. Downstairs there was a real fire burning, and a young couple with their backs to her. On the coffee table was a tray with a teapot and cups, cookies and grapes. The couple were looking at Nan’s pottery display, wondering which of the large platters they wanted to buy. Gauri listened to their discussion, how carefully they considered the choice.
    The couple turned around, introduced themselves. They came from Montreal. She leaned over to shake their hands, their names sliding instantly off Gauri’s brain. They were not her students, it did not matter. Neither of them was the person she’d come to see.
    They settled together on a champagne-colored sofa. The husband refilled their teacups.
    Will you join us?
    No, thank you. Enjoy your evening.
    You as well.
    She went out to the car. The day was ending, already the sky was turning pale. She pulled out her cell phone, scrolled down to Subhash’s number. Something had catapulted her back here, a motivation as unstoppable, also as egregious, as the one that had caused her to leave.
    She was trespassing, breaking the rule they’d long come to obey. He might be busy this weekend. He might have gone somewhere. Though his letter had been friendly, of course he might not want to see her at all.
    Now the absurdity, the audacity, of what she’d done permeated her. She’d always felt like an imposition in his life, an intrusion.
    She told herself she did not have to do it right away, that there was time. Her flight to London was not until the following evening. She would go to him tomorrow, in the light of day, then go straight back to the airport. Tonight she would simply confirm that he was there.
    She drove to the campus, past buildings where she had taken classes, paths where she had walked with Bela in her pram. She drove past the mix of stone buildings and sixties architecture, the buildings that had gone up since. Past the apartment complex where they had first lived, where they’d brought Bela home from the hospital. She turned around by the little outbuilding where she had learned to do the laundry. Then she drove into the town.
    The supermarket where Subhash had liked to buy groceries was now a large post office. There were more places to buy more things, more often: a large pharmacy that stayed open twenty-four hours, a greater variety of places to eat.
    She chose a restaurant she remembered, an ice cream shop where Bela liked to get a cone at the window. A flavor called peppermint stick, studded with red and green candies, had been her favorite. There was a counter with stools inside, a few booths at the back. It was a Saturday, and she sat among groups of high school students who were out without their parents, drinking milk shakes, joking with one another. A few older people were sitting alone, eating plates of fried chicken and mashed potatoes.
    Again the discomfort she’d always felt in Rhode Island, whenever she set foot outside the university. Where she’d felt at once ignored and conspicuous, summed up, in the way. She ate quickly, burning her tongue on a bowl of chowder, gulping down a small dish of ice cream. She grew anxious that she would run into Subhash. Had he become the type to go out to restaurants?
    After dinner she drove to the bay, the two towers overlooking the sea, along a promenade where people were jogging and walking in the twilight. She continued on toward the house.
    The lights were on. She slowed down, too nervous to come to a stop. There were two cars in the driveway; she was unprepared for this. Was there a third one in the garage? Who was visiting him? Who were his