Free If Today Be Sweet by Thrity Umrigar

making all the major decisions. But she seems paralyzed. One day, I get the feeling that she could live here, even be happy here. But the next minute she’ll say something about her beloved Bombay and how she’s looking forward to her bridgeparties when she returns in February and then I don’t know what to think. It’s driving Susan crazy, also.”
    â€œWomen,” Percy said. “Women. Just goes to show, at any age they’re still the same—indecisive, unpredictable, irresolute. And isn’t it funny how everyone always misses Bombay as long as they’re not living there? But listen. I’ll talk to her, okay? You guys are coming to Homi and Perin’s party this week, correct? I assume you’re bringing Mamma to the party? Good. I’ll try to say something to her then. As her lawyer, I need to know.”
    â€œThat would be great. Maybe she’ll be less evasive with you.”
    â€œMaybe I should have a talk with demon woman, also. Tell her to treat my best friend with more respect.”
    Sorab snorted. “Respect? That woman wouldn’t know how to spell the word.”
    â€œToo bad you can’t divorce your boss. I think they should start a whole new category of people you can divorce—bosses, teachers, immigration officials, parents, children, pets, landlords, Tom DeLay, Donald Trump, Wal-Mart greeters. After all, why should the joy of divorce be restricted to spouses?”
    Sorab grinned. “I feel a new lawsuit coming on.”
    â€œYeah, a class-action suit, representing ninety percent of all Americans.”
    Sorab pulled into the circular driveway of Tropez and parked his car in front of the black sign that said VALET PARKING . “You know something? You have the same idiotic sense of humor that you did in high school. Remember how you used to drive poor Mr. Singh nuts with your limericks and puns?” He handed his car keys to a young man in a tan shirt.
    â€œHey, you just made a pun yourself. Singh and nuts, get it? Singh means ‘peanut’ and you said—”
    â€œI get it, I get it,” Sorab groaned. “Ae, listen, I’m at the restaurant. I’ll call you later, okay?”
    â€œGo. Have a good time with your lovely wife. And tell her about my standing invitation—if she gets sick of you, she can always marry me instead. I’m sure Julie won’t mind me taking another wife. I mean if the Muslims and the Mormons can—”
    â€œI’ll tell her,” Sorab interrupted. He cast an eye around the restaurant for Amy, the dark-haired girl who usually seated him. “And hey, Percy—thanks for everything. As usual.”
    â€œNo mention. Us guys have to stick together against these wicked women with their wily ways. Listen, don’t worry. I’ll talk to Tehmina mamma. We’ll get things sorted out, okay?”
    As he hung up, Sorab’s eyes fell on Susan at a table near the window. As usual, she had brought a book to read while waiting for him. On their first official date, he had been stunned when Susan had shown up at the restaurant carrying a novel, and had misunderstood her reasons. Did you really think the date would be so boring you’d have to read? he’d asked her. But after all these years together, Sorab knew how shy Susan could be and how she hated waiting alone in a restaurant or in any public place. The book provided a welcome escape.
    Susan looked up and spotted Sorab across the room. Shutting the book, she waved. Inexplicably, Sorab felt his throat tighten. Good old Susan. How solid, how substantial she felt after the brittle superficiality of Grace Butler. Susan would never use a word like brilliantastic. Susan was home, a harbor, a refuge from the gaudiness of the world.
    As he crossed the restaurant to meet his wife, Sorab felt his body relax for the first time all day.

CHAPTER FOUR
    H i, hon,” Sorab said, bending down to kiss his wife on the