The Trouble with Hating You

by Sajni Patel

  “You’re definitely the woman for the job,” Sana said before grabbing some almonds.

  I blew out a breath and added, “And remember the guy my parents tried to match me up with?”

  The girls nodded as Sana mentioned, “The cute one from mandir?”

  I shook my head. “Ugh. Sure. He’s the lawyer my company hired to stave off some lawsuits, another thing no one bothered to mention during interviews. So I now have to contend with him on a weekly basis as he tries to ride my butt as if any of this corporate mess is my fault.”

  “And if I’m not mistaken, you have pics of him on your phone?” Preeti teased.

  I groaned. Biodata.

  Both Preeti and Sana made gimme motions with their hands like a pair of toddlers. I pulled up Jay’s pictures, even though I hadn’t looked at them before. But now, those pictures, both professionally taken ones for work and action shots taken by family or with family, were quite stunning. I handed Preeti the phone, and she and Sana giggled over the pictures as if we were in high school crushing on some hot football player.

  “He is so handsome,” Sana reiterated.

  “Until he opened his arrogant mouth. Within two seconds of meeting him it was clear that he expected me to flounder at his feet just because he smiled at me.”

  “I almost did…” Sana giggled.

  “I don’t like guys like that. And then he called me out in my first upper management meeting. Should’ve thrown my phone at him.”

  “So a guy has actually gotten under your skin?” Reema asked. “Hmm, interesting. Wish I’d been there to see it!”

  “Why?”

  “Guys don’t usually do that to you.”

  “Well, what can I say? There’s just something about his upturned chin and conceited smile that makes me want to punch him.”

  The girls stared at me. I shrugged and added, “Not that I would. I just…I dunno.”

  “Rohan mentioned Jay and his brother the other day,” Reema said. “Don’t worry, I didn’t bring up anything regarding the dinner. Rohan said the family was super nice.”

  I mumbled, “Rohan gets along with everyone.”

  “He said Jay asked about you…”

  My eyes flashed at her. “And?”

  “Hmm, methinks you must be somewhat interested in him.”

  “Why?” I scoffed.

  “Just look at how quick you were to ask what Jay asked about you.”

  Sana and Preeti concurred.

  “Do you know him?” I asked Reema, seeing that her fiancé seemed to be friends with Jay.

  “I know of him,” she replied. “I’ve seen him around mandir and met him a handful of times when Rohan was with him. But I have never hung out with Jay.”

  “So what did Jay ask about?” I nonchalantly checked my nails as if I didn’t care.

  “Mainly why’d you run off the way you did.”

  “I didn’t want to meet him. I was manipulated by my dad. So I left.”

  “You literally ran into him. Knocked him over and just left without apologizing. Did you at least apologize at mandir?”

  I grimaced. “Why should I?”

  Sana and Preeti stared wide-eyed.

  “Come on. I’m not a horrible person.”

  “Why didn’t you just meet him and his mother and say that you had to leave, or apologize that it was a misunderstanding and you weren’t ready to meet someone yet?” Sana asked.

  “Are you serious? I’m not apologizing to him for anything. I was the one who was manipulated.”

  “Still, there was a better way of handling the situation.”

  “I suppose, but I did what I did. I think he expected me to apologize at mandir, which I didn’t…I’m sure my non-apology is why he embarrassed me at the meeting in front of my coworkers.” My face burned from anger.

  “Maybe that wasn’t why.”

  “It has to be. Unless he truly is a giant ass.”

  Reema twisted her lips as she contemplated which was the worst of two evils, but she apparently came up short and shrugged.

  “So, that’s that. The added drama to my already miserable existence at my new job. But on to happier things. Preeti.” I turned to her. “Did you say the other night that your parents wanted you to meet a guy?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I’m not sure about him. But he is…you know?”

  Her words trailed off, and we all knew what she meant, but I had to hear it. Because I had to correct her. “What?”

  She sighed. “The only one who’s shown interest in me.”

  “He’s not the only one…” I raised an eyebrow and let the tangy sharpness of my drink slither down my throat.

  “He doesn’t count.”

  She couldn’t even say his name. The once great love of her life. Daniel Thompson.

  Preeti rolled a piece of cheese between her fingers as she continued. “Everyone here knows about that relationship, but the man my parents want me to meet, Yuvan, seems to be okay with it. He said it was in the past. Part of me wonders how long that might last, seeing that so many people had gossiped about it. How much of that can he take?”

  I frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t care so much about what others think.”

  She swirled the remaining red liquid in her glass. “That’s easy for you to say. I’m not as strong as you are, Liya. I’ve always been taught to keep my opinions to myself, obey my elders and parents, and do nothing that could blemish my name or that of my parents. I want to make my parents proud and see them happy. What I did nearly tore my family apart.”

  “What you did was fall in love. I was raised the same way. I just stopped caring so much about what other people think. All it did was add stress and make me depressed, make me feel that I was never good enough. And it’s not that I don’t care how my mom feels, especially if someone says something negative about me to her. But that’s not how it should be. My mom should be able to put her foot down and stand up for me.”

  “Is that how you feel? That your mom is ashamed of you and doesn’t stand up for you?”

  “Of course. So fine, I’m not a virgin, I drink, I date, I flirt, but I’m not just sleeping with everyone. I’m not a horrible person. It’s ridiculous and vexing.”

  “Now you’re all riled up.”

  “I’m being honest and frank, and if that comes across as rude, then that’s just another thing wrong with society. For example, you having dated…he who cannot be named in your presence…should never have been a big deal. He’s a good guy, educated, loyal, stable, and so into you and liked your family. Your parents respected him until, well, until their daughter fell in love with him. Because what? He’s not Indian? Love doesn’t see color, just society. And Reema, you aren’t going to be a housewife raising three kids and splitting your day between laundry, cleaning, and cooking. Rohan loves to cook. He loves kids, so if anything, he would stay at home.”

  Reema nodded in agreement.

  “But you’d get flak for that. The world is changing, and the older generation needs to keep up or shut up.”

  “I understand, and no disagreement here,” Preeti said. “I just wish I could do it the way you do, with my chin up. I thought love was enough, but the way love broke everything wasn’t worth it.”

  “Love is enough. It’s society’s views and old-world thinking that broke everything.” I bit into a piece of sharp cheese paired with a juicy grape. Oh, if only she knew that there wasn’t a concrete barrier between me and the harsh, destructive world. Those same stupid things got to me, too. With Preeti, society wanted to humiliate her because she fell in love with a non-Indian. With me, society wanted to banish me because I wasn’t chaste and polite and un-opinionated.

  Sana fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “Well, I’m not like any of you. I can’t live on my own. I need that safety net of my family and marriage.”

  “It’s fine to want a compliment, but you can’t marry a male figure who basically replaces your father.” I shuddered at the thought. “Besides, you h
ave a safety net. Us. Always.”

  “I’ve decided to accept the offer of engagement,” she blurted.

  I quirked my brow. “From the guy in India whom you’ve met once?”

  “We talk on the phone every week and email every day.”

  I sighed, but Reema and Preeti hugged Sana and offered congratulations. I threw my head back.

  “I know you don’t approve of the traditional ways. We weren’t blindly arranged, and I have the option to decline. Arranged does not equate to forced,” Sana said.

  I softened, the best that I could do. “I know. If you like him, fine. Get to know him more, though. That’s all.”

  She slouched, and Reema shot me a scathing death glare. I bit my tongue. There was a time and a place to get opinionated, but right now with my sensitive and very traditional friend was not one of those times.

  “If you’re comfortable and really want this, then good. We’re happy for you. He just better treat you right.”

  “Or he’ll have to deal with you?” she asked with a light smile.

  I grinned. “Don’t mess with my sisters.”

  Preeti added, “But listen, anything can happen to any marriage, no matter how it starts. The person you’ve dated for ten years before the wedding can be a felon. Who knows? Reema’s arrangement worked. So have the matches of plenty of our friends. Be honest, Liya. It’s marriage that you abhor.”

  “It’s true.” I shrugged. “It’s an archaic practice. Who wants to marry someone just because parents and society tells us we need to, or because we’re getting too old? Who wants to be tied down to the same man forever? Who wants to have to answer to a man? Who wants to be trapped?” Who wanted to be hurt when they were let down by their man? But there was a critical, heartbreaking question beneath it all: who wanted to marry a broken woman?

  I looked to both Preeti and Sana to say, “I do require that you share everything you know about these men, though.”

  “We have plenty of time for that later. Can we talk about something else?” Sana asked, her face red.

  “Same,” Preeti said. She seemed happy to have found someone that her parents approved of, but I knew those glistening, sad eyes. She was forcing herself to move forward. Because this was what society told us had to happen? We had to appease family and community, and it was absolute BS.

  “How about wedding talk?” Preeti asked.

  “Oh, speaking of…” Reema cringed as she finally admitted to Preeti, “He who cannot be named might be at the wedding. Rohan keeps in touch with him, and I wanted to invite Brandy. Would be rude to invite one sibling and not the other.”

  We all held our collective breath. There was nothing worse than having to see the love of your life and knowing you couldn’t be with him.

  Preeti gave a gentle nod. “It’s fine, guys. I knew Brandy would probably be at the wedding, and of course her brother is still friends with Rohan. Aside from having my ex in attendance, Reema, we have six ladies performing, and they agreed to keep practicing every Saturday at mandir,” Preeti said with her usual cheer.

  Reema clapped her hands. “Yay!”

  “You can’t watch, you know,” I reminded.

  She pouted. “I know, but the dance is going to be amazing at the reception. Rohan said he took a sneak peek.”

  “What? I told him not to watch!”

  Reema laughed. “Just kidding. I wish I could watch and hang out. I got a text from Soniya earlier. They’re moving the Sunday program at mandir to Saturday.”

  “We can do it afterward, I guess,” I offered.

  “Great! I’ll get to see you there, then.”

  Great. I was bound to run into Dad and a bunch of nosy people who didn’t approve of me. Oh, well. It was the same old, same old. What was the worst that could happen?

  Chapter Six

  Liya

  Preeti nudged my shoulder as we slipped off our shoes at the mandir entrance. The large room with idols to the left and the kitchen to the right was filled with noise: laughing, chatting, calling out, and clanking pots and pans. Incense, sweets, and perfumes clashed for attention in my nostrils. I remembered when I’d actually enjoyed coming here. But that was so long ago. Another lifetime ago. A time when I was young and innocent and accepted by Indian society. Whatever normalcy and personal peace that I’d obtained over the past few years came from staying away from this place.

  The marble floors were ice beneath my bare feet, but at least my wiggling toes shined from a pedicure with a splash of red and silver stripes that made them look like candy canes.

  Preeti and I both opted for a comfortable salwaar kameez. She liked them because the long tunic and leggings felt like scrubs, and I liked them because there was no reason to dress garishly for what was ultimately a dance practice.

  “Look at you, bindi and bangles and everything,” she said, wagging her brows at the length of my sparkly bangle–covered wrists.

  “When in Rome,” I said. “But I want to see how it feels to dance with all this stuff on or if I should take some of it off.”

  “I think you’ll like how it feels, professional and all. Hey, I know mandir isn’t your thing, but thanks for coming to worship with me.” She exhaled and slumped as her gaze moved across the crowd.

  “Don’t worry about them. They can shove their opinions up their…you know? You didn’t do anything wrong in your entire life.”

  “I know, but…”

  “Don’t let them get into your inner calm, okay? They are no one, not worth an ounce of your worry. You, my darling, are an intellectual queen, and they are but mindless peasants.”

  “I really wish I could be more like you.”

  “My outlook took a lot of practice and time, and it’s not always easy but definitely worth the effort. Smile if you’re happy, keep your chin up, cling to us for support, own this place. This is where you come to worship, not to be judged,” I ended with a sneer as soon as Ravi caught my attention. He and his friends turned a little sour at the sight of me.

  Although my words were meant to encourage Preeti to the one-hundredth degree, it was easier said than done. As the crowd noticed us in their midst, the two most outcast women in their religious community, it was easy for any newcomer not privy to the latest gossip to see that we were not wholeheartedly welcome here.

  Preeti hooked her arm with mine, and we weaved through the masses of sari-clad aunties and kurta pajama-wearing uncles until we spotted Sana and Reema. As protective sisters, we clipped into a circle and maneuvered away from any bickering nosy-bodies.

  Our circle grew as Soniya and the rest of the dancers arrived, and we were at a perfect balance in our own world until some auntie pried through our conversation and kindly gave compliments to all of the younger women. Except Preeti.

  Her smile instantly turned imitation as she said, “So nice to see you, Preeti.”

  Preeti nodded.

  “I heard an engagement is on the horizon with a nice young man,” she said. Rich, coming from her. She did not want her son anywhere near Preeti. Not that Preeti had given any thought to her son, but he had been interested in her at one point. Until his meddlesome, gossip-mongering mother swooped in and convinced him that a good Indian boy would never marry a girl touched by another man. “Such a shame, huh? My boy is your age. You would’ve made a good match. Too bad that it didn’t work out.”

  Preeti’s cheeks turned red, and I almost thumped the auntie on her mouth.

  “Well,” I said, since my dear friend was lost in a stupor, “Preeti is a doctor and your son a what? A business analyst. Oh, no, auntie. That match would be too uneven. A son like yours would probably feel threatened and emasculated to have a wife who makes that much more money than him.”

  “Oh!”

  Preeti opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. She might’ve tried to smooth over the situation or politely moved on, but I caught her gaze and made googly eyes, and she tried her best not to laugh.

  The auntie went around the circle, t
o Sana, next. “I hear you’re thinking about engagement to a nice boy in India?”

  Sana grinned and blushed and looked at her feet like a glowing, virginal bride-to-be. “Perhaps, but I haven’t made a decision.”

  The auntie tsked and pouted. “Mustn’t keep a good boy waiting, he won’t wait long. What is there to say no to?”

  I wanted to gag but straightened my face when her large, brown eyes landed on me. “And Liya! I haven’t seen you in mandir in ages. So good to see you. I’m glad that you returned to your senses. I almost didn’t recognize that beautiful face of yours.”

  “You’re too kind,” I gritted out simply to keep the tension low and away from Preeti, who was in the corner of our group with a downturned face.

  “You stress your parents so, living on your own.”

  And here we went…

  “They worry about your safety. My girls didn’t move out until they were married. It saved their name. We didn’t want rumors to start. And once a girl’s reputation is sullied, no good boy will marry her.”

  “I guess that only matters if I want to get married one day.”

  “Oh, my! Of course you’ll get married one day. You have to. What’s the purpose of life without a family, a husband and children?”

  “Actually, since you’re so inclined to be in our business—”

  “It’s so good to see you, auntie,” Reema intervened. “We should find a place to sit before the program starts.”

  The auntie was lucky. A sneer rolled off my face just as she nodded and floated away in her green-and-purple sari to meet a group of other older women, more draconian aunties. I caught Dad watching as we sat near the back of the room, passing hundreds of people. Momma waved, and I smiled. I stepped forward to go to her, to hug her, to somehow ease her, but my smile vanished the second she turned away, because Dad shook his head. He silently reprimanded her and me at the same time with the same look.

  It never ended. He had his hold, and what could a person do if Momma didn’t want to break that crushing grip? I didn’t care how it made Dad feel if things were to become public, but I did care how Momma would take it. We, unfortunately, still lived in a society eager to alienate victims instead of protecting them.