Chapter 6

Alice had been right about word traveling fast. The next day, during her night shift, a young man in shabby clothes slipped into the store, his eyes darting nervously, a wrinkled paper clutched in his hand. He shuffled up to the counter, his eyes firmly on the floor, and mumbled something in Hindi. Alice leaned forward.

"What did you say?" she asked, trying to speak clear Hindi, but knowing that her touch of Southern accent made the words even harder to understand.

The man didn't look up, but he repeated himself a little more loudly, and held out his fist to her. Alice thought she heard the words 'father' and 'sickness', and very clearly understood the word for 'pay'. She took the wad of paper from his hand and smoothed it out. There was a roughly drawn map and a small envelope. She peeked inside. There were several crumpled bills. She glanced back at the man who was glancing from side to side like a wanted fugitive. Alice felt her stomach tighten. This was probably all the money he had in the world.

She carefully closed the envelope again and slid it back across the counter. The young man finally met her eyes, looking panicked. He started speaking rapidly and shoved the envelope back to her, but Alice was firm.

"Cikitsaka," she said, a word that she had just learned for this exact situation. It meant 'doctor'. Or at least, she was pretty sure that it did. The young man stopped gibbering and stared at her.

"Aja rata," she said, the word for 'tonight', pointing to a spot on the rough map that was circled. She assumed this was his house. "Cikitsaka."

She wasn't even entirely sure she was using the words correctly, but apparently it was enough. The man relaxed a little and took the envelope when she handed it to him again.

"Aja rata," she said again, with a smile.

"Aja rata," the man repeated wearily, "Dhan'yavada. Thank you."

After he left, Alice stared at the map she held in her hand. There were symbols scrawled all over the page and Hindi phrases that would probably take her the better part of forever to figure out. She sighed and dug into her bag, pulled out a battered Hindi to English dictionary, and set to work trying to decipher what she could.

Business was slow that night and right at ten o'clock, Alice locked up the shop and set off for Bruce's house, almost at a run, sliding to a stop in the doorway. Bruce took one look at her and snapped his journal shut, sitting up from the mattress in one smooth motion.

"You got something," he said, not as a question, but a statement.

Alice nodded and held out the scribbled map.

"It's not far I think, just a few streets north of here."

Bruce stood up and took the map from her, studying it in the dim light.

"No, not far at all," he muttered, "So what is it?"

Alice suddenly felt woefully unprepared.

"I… I think his father is sick?"

Bruce looked up at her over his glasses.

"Who's father? Sick with what?"

Alice shook her head.

"I don't know, some guy that came into the shop today. He didn't speak English."

"We're in India, of course he didn't speak English," Bruce said, still staring at her and making her squirm uncomfortably, "Are you telling me that you don't speak Hindi?"

Alice crossed her arms and shrugged, trying not to let him see how inadequate he was making her feel.

"I know enough to get by. And a lot of the people I've met speak at least a little English. It's never been an issue."

Bruce rolled his eyes and folded up the map, stuffing it in the back pocket of his jeans.

"Yeah, well, where we're going, they don't teach 'Dumb Tourist 101', so get ready for your crash course in mingling with the locals."

Alice resented being referred to as a dumb tourist, but before she could think of a clever reply, Bruce had grabbed a bag from the corner and blown out his candle, plunging them both into the complete darkness of a cloudy night. Alice jumped and fumbled behind her for the door frame. She bumped into something solid and yelped. A hand caught her arm and steadied her.

"Calm down, it's just me."

She could hear the amusement in Bruce's voice and immediately felt sheepish. After a couple more blinks, she could see him standing next to her in the darkness. She pulled away from his grip.

"Sorry," she muttered, unnecessarily adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder.

"You okay now?" he asked.

Alice nodded.

"Good."

He slipped out of the house into the dark streets, Alice following close behind him. He didn't even glance at the map in his pocket, navigating the dimly lit streets with ease and confidence. They quickly reached a row of small shacks and finally, Bruce reached into his back pocket and pulled out the map. After a cursory glance, he walked up to one of the doors and knocked. It opened a crack and the young man that had come into the store peeked out. Bruce leaned forward and spoke softly in fluent Hindi. Alice felt a twinge of jealousy. He didn't sound like he had any accent at all. The young man opened the door and ushered them both into the small room beyond.

The single room was lit by a small fire in the center of the dirt floor. Nestled in a pile of blankets against one wall was an old man, his sparse hair and beard gray, and wrinkles carving deep furrows over his face. He looked so thin and fragile that Alice thought one touch might break him. He opened his eyes and they were milky white. He was blind.

The old man called out in a husky voice and his son knelt beside him, soothing him. Alice heard the word 'cikitsaka' and Bruce was motioned over. Alice slid herself into a shadowed corner and watched with increasing curiosity as Bruce knelt beside the old man. They spoke in soft voices and whispers, so it was hard for her to hear what they were saying, but the older man seemed completely at ease in Bruce's care.

As she watched him work, gently yet efficiently, Alice began to wonder what had happened to the man of just a few days ago, sobbing in despair in his empty house. It was as if he had become a completely different person. Her eyes followed his movements and her ears listened to the rhythm of his words as he spoke and asked questions. Everything about him was calm, soothing. It was deceptively alluring and Alice wondered how hard he had to work to keep up the act.

Finally Bruce stood and pulled the son to the side, speaking quietly with him. The young man nodded vigorously at everything that Bruce told him, and then reached into his pocket and handed Bruce the dirty envelope, speaking rapidly. Alice didn't know why, but Bruce's eyes flicked to her for just a brief moment as the young man pressed the envelope into his hand. There was a pause as Bruce looked down at the envelope, and Alice suddenly knew what was happening, even if she didn't understand it. For some reason, Bruce didn't want to take the money.

Alice hurried to Bruce's side, pressing her hand over his to keep the envelope in his grip. She could see him staring at her out of the corner of her eye, but she gave her full attention to the young man in front of them.

"Dhan'yavada," she said, with a smile, "Thank you."

The young man smiled and, with a few more muttered words that she didn't understand, he went to his father's side. Alice took Bruce's arm and they walked out of the house together. She didn't dare to look at him until they were out on the street. When she did, she didn't give him a chance to speak.

"If they offer to pay you, you have to take it or you'll insult them," she said quietly. She was surprised she was even having this conversation with him.

Bruce looked dazedly at her, then down at the envelope still clutched in his hand.

"But I didn't do anything," he muttered.

"What was wrong with his father?" Alice asked, her voice steady and neutral, trying to bring Bruce back to reality. He seemed a long way off right then.

"He… It was food poisoning," he said, "Just needs plenty of fluids. I gave them some ideas what to do, but he might not even survive."

"But you gave them hope," Alice said, gripping his wrists tightly, "That's what they're paying you for. You gave them a chance and that's all they want."

Bruce looked around them, at the dirty broken down shacks.

"But… How can I take this from them?"

Alice sighed and forced his fingers closed around the envelope again.

"If it makes you feel better, you can use it to buy supplies, medicines. You're probably going to need that stuff anyway."

Bruce looked down at her and she held his eyes steadily, watching him come back from the haze he had been in.

"Your accent is terrible," he said.

Alice jerked back and he gave her a half smile. She scowled at him and let go of his hand, adjusting her bag self-consciously.

"Yeah, well, it's not my fault. I grew up in the South."

"That is no excuse. I'm surprised these people can understand a word you say," he said, his smile broadening as he teased her, "If I'm going to be seen with you, we're going to have to work on that."

Alice was surprised by how casually he said that. If I'm going to be seen with you… He was still smiling, not teasing now, just kind, gentle, the kind of smile it was hard not to return. but Alice managed. She gripped the strap of her bag in her fists, forcing her hands to be still.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to show me how it's done, Dr. Banner," she said, glad that her voice didn't waver, "Your Hindi seems flawless. Was your mother native or something?"

They had started walking again, slowly. Bruce shook his head.

"No. And even if she was, it wouldn't have done me any good. She died when I was young."

"Your dad then," Alice said, more as a statement rather than a question.

The small smile that Bruce had been wearing disappeared and Alice felt her stomach drop.

"No," he said, with a touch of bitterness in his voice, "My father wasn't particularly interested in teaching me anything."

Alice had to suppress a wince. She had gone too far, delved too deep, and she felt a knot of anxiety in her stomach. Quickly, she tried to get control of the conversation before it had a chance to lash back at her.

"So, do you speak any other languages?"

The shadow on Bruce's face lifted slightly, but his easy smile didn't return.

"Fluently? I speak Spanish, French, Italian, and I can just barely get by in Brazilian Portuguese."

Alice raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself.

"Damn. But why Brazilian Portuguese?"

Bruce shrugged.

"I spent some time in Rio de Janeiro a few years back, Rocinha."

Alice perked up.

"Really? When?"

He thought about it for a moment before he replied.

"2008, I think."

"No way!" she exclaimed, and it made Bruce jump, "I was in Rio in '08!"

Bruce's eyebrows went up.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I was working in this soda factory, but there was this industrial accident, some sort of explosion, so I relocated."

When Alice looked at him, the smirk was back on Bruce's face.

"An industrial accident?" he said, "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

It took a moment for Alice to get the hint.

"That was… That was you?"

Bruce's smirk widened.

"Looks like you and I relocated about the same time. What a coincidence."

"Yeah," Alice said, trying to wrap her mind around it.

They had lived in the same town, worked at the same factory, and yet, they had never met. What were the odds? Absently, she touched the two rings hanging underneath the fabric of her tank top, before she realized what she was doing and dropped her hand quickly. If Bruce noticed he didn't say anything.

The road leading to Bruce's little shack was pitch black. Alice glanced at her watch. It was late. Really late. She seemed to be having a lot of late nights recently.

"Well, I'll let you know if anything else comes up," she said.

Bruce nodded, then after just a moment's hesitation, he said, "You should come by tomorrow night."

Alice blinked at him, tongue-tied.

"I'll try to help you with your Hindi," he said, "Really, you need all the help you can get."

Alice glared, "I think I can manage."

"I don't," Bruce said, that hint of a smirk on his face again, "I'm telling you, Country Girl, that accent is atrocious."

Alice opened her mouth to retort, but couldn't think of anything to say. It was true, her accent was pretty awful. She could use the extra practice.

She sighed, frustrated.

"Fine. I'll come. But you're bringing dinner this time."

Bruce grinned.

"Deal."