Since the start, I was looking for one name in all of these pages, and from the start, it would appear from time to time. Like when the very story Babu would tell me about her first time meeting him appeared, exactly how she told it to me, in the pages of her diary:
Or when he was just a guy she’d dance a number or two with while pinning over Benny or Johnny or someone else:
Or the beginnings of the relationship when she didn’t know what she really thought of him:
My favorite thing early on was being the only one to know who Babu would end up marrying. You all didn’t know. Babu in the 1930s didn’t know. It was a delicious secret I couldn’t hold on to for very long.