The Full Moon Bride

by Shobhan Bantwal

Just as I laid down the trays on the coffee table, I heard the doorbell ring again. A wild thrill of anticipation raced through my veins. Roger! I told myself I had to stop behaving in this giddy fashion around Roger. The guy was playing the field with beautiful girls bearing cute names like Carrie and Colette, besides which, he was busy producing a play and trying to live on a shoestring budget.

  I might have the hots for him, but he wasn’t being anything but friendly toward me. I had to keep that fact in mind. Friend.

  Dad was still busy getting the drinks, so I hastened to answer the door.

  Roger stood on the stoop, looking taller than ever, his hair getting tossed about in the cold wind. He wore a black leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers. Even before he could take off the jacket I knew there would be a sweatshirt underneath. I had to resist the mad urge to throw my arms around him.

  “Hi, Soorya,” he greeted me, stepping inside. Then he handed me a bouquet of mixed flowers—carnations, lilies, and mums. “Happy Thanksgiving. These are for the three charming Giri ladies.”

  He wants you for a friend, I reminded myself once again, trying not to think of the rose he’d given me outside the temple not too long ago. I wondered if he remembered it.

  “Thank you, Roger. It’s very sweet of you,” I said, making sure not to sniff the flowers or I’d start sneezing despite my antihistamine. “Just hang your jacket in the closet,” I instructed him.

  “Something smells delicious,” he remarked, sliding his jacket over a hanger.

  “That’s Mom’s tandoori turkey,” I said. I could bet Roger would do full justice to the food, too. “My cousin Krishna and his girlfriend Carol are in the living room with Dad. Please join them.”

  “Soorya.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You look very nice today, more casual but festive,” remarked Roger, with a heart-stopping smile.

  I looked down at myself. Festive? All I had on was a pair of black slacks and a coral-colored pullover sweater with a black and coral scarf around my neck. I wasn’t sure how to take his compliment. “Uh . . . thanks.” A bit flustered, I turned around and went back to the kitchen to find a vase.

  By the time I finished arranging the flowers, I heard Pamma being introduced to Carol. I hoped the old lady’s heart could withstand the shock. She was just now recovering from the bronchitis attack.

  When I returned to the living room, I found Pamma sitting on the couch, staring at Krishna and Carol, a slightly purplish tint to her face, her mouth clamped shut. The dentures were positively not clicking.

  Krishna was sitting glued to Carol, a possessive arm around her shoulders. Any closer and Carol would be in his lap. I could see why Pamma’s face looked flushed. To pry her gaze away from those two, I announced cheerfully, “Look, you guys, Roger brought us flowers.”

  It was a smooth move on my part. Both Mom and Pamma switched their attention to the bouquet. “Such beautiful fall colors. Thank you, Rajesh,” Mom said. Pamma’s dentures clicked.

  Roger, God bless him, immediately put Carol at ease by asking her about her job. In the few minutes that I’d been out of the room, how had he managed to draw her out? His ability to make people feel comfortable was always a delight.

  “So, Carol, what is it like working as an executive assistant at a high-tech corporation?” he said, popping a baby carrot smothered with dip into his mouth. His left hand curled around a frosty glass of beer. He looked very much at home. If he accidentally found himself in a snake pit, he’d probably find a way to make himself comfortable.

  Carol, looking thrilled at being asked about her career, replied with a modest smile, “It can be overwhelming sometimes. It’s not easy being an assistant to two executives with such diverse personalities and management styles. One of the guys is especially difficult.”

  “I’m sure it’s a tough job, but something tells me you’re very good at it. Am I right?” Roger shot her a killer smile, making Carol blush with pleasure.

  Krishna ruffled Carol’s hair. “You should see how efficient she is. She can juggle six things at once.” So it appeared that Krishna and Carol worked for the same employer and that’s where they’d met. And for a change, Krishna was saying something nice about someone.

  Good for Carol. She was making a better man out of Krishna. I was beginning to like her more and more.

  “Thank you, Kris!” Carol cooed and kissed Krishna’s cheek, making him send the rest of us a smug, self-important grin. He was basking in the adoration this sweet woman was laying at his feet.

  Pamma’s face went back to the earlier purple tint. Even my cool, confident dad looked like he’d just grown another pesky hemorrhoid. So I quickly jumped in. “Anybody need their drinks refreshed? I know I could use a soda.”

  Mom sprang to her feet and headed for the kitchen with a murmured, “I better see about getting dinner on the table.”

  It was pretty much smooth sailing after that. Dinner was lovely, with the turkey coming out looking delectable and the vegetables cooked to perfection. The candles, besides adding a warm glow, lent a homey aroma to the dining room. Pamma looked every inch the Giri family matriarch as she looked around the table with a smile.

  When Dad asked Roger how his play was coming along, he said it was only a few weeks to opening night and that he was working the crew and himself to the point of exhaustion. “Today’s the first day my cast and I have taken time off in weeks,” he said with a sigh. “Of course, they’d have slaughtered me if I hadn’t given them Thanksgiving off,” he added with a hand at his throat, imitating a swift cutting motion.

  I had to admit Roger was working extremely hard toward fulfilling his ambition, something I hadn’t expected when I’d first met him. If there was one thing I admired, it was dogged determination to realize one’s dream.

  Krishna, with his superior computer software job, tried his best to belittle Roger’s unusual career. Several times he made snide remarks about show business and Roger’s assumed American name. I was itching to defend Roger, who appeared unconcerned about Krishna’s jibes. Mom looked a little distressed, too. Dad continued to eat his turkey like he hadn’t eaten in a year.

  Why the heck wasn’t Roger giving Krishna back in equal measure? I knew he was an easygoing individual and let very little upset him, but this was the limit.

  Eventually, just when my temper was about to reach boiling point, Roger unexpectedly and cleverly threw a knockout punch at Krishna. It wasn’t just me that he took by surprise. Everyone at the table looked at him in awe.

  “Let me tell you something, Krishna,” explained Roger in a calm tone. “I could have chosen the trite path to medicine or computer science or engineering. I had the grades, the brains, and the resources for any of those fields, but I decided to be different. It takes guts and creativity to try what I’m trying. I’m following my vision. And Roger’s a rather nice name.” He took a sip of water and smiled, deftly removing the sting from his words. “I might fail miserably, but at least I will have tried. It’s better than being bored to death.”

  I was proud of Roger. He’d proved he could handle the worst kind of pompous asses, and they couldn’t get any worse than my pretentious cousin.

  Carol looked impressed. “Roger, that’s so admirable. Very few people have the vision and courage to do what you’re doing.” When she beamed at Roger, Krishna decided to shut up once and for all.

  As I studied Krishna and Carol across the table, I sincerely hoped that Krishna had enough decency to treat her well. Carol seemed to be genuinely in love with him. My primary concern was for her. Precisely what were Krishna’s intentions toward her? Was he serious about Carol, or was he merely toying with her while he waited for the ideal Telugu virgin to materialize?

  It made me angry to visualize such a scenario. He had no right to play with a girl’s heart, use her for sex, and then trash her. It wasn’t all that uncommon for young men coming from conservative cultures to seek out a good time before settling down with a suitable wife.


  After dinner Mom and I cleared the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. Then I shooed Mom out of the kitchen, telling her to relax with the guests and give herself a break while I put the coffee on and got the desserts out.

  Mom had been working since dawn, and she seemed tired. I had a feeling this whole Krishna-Carol affair and Krishna’s parents’ potential reaction to it were placing Mom under a great deal of stress.

  While I got the dessert plates, Carol unexpectedly came into the kitchen. “Soorya, can I help you with anything?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Sure,” I replied with a smile. “You can get the cups and teaspoons, if you don’t mind.”

  “No problem.” She went to the cabinet I pointed to.

  I glanced at her back as she stood on her toes to reach the cups on the top shelf. She was a pleasant person, open and friendly. There was something very innocent and likeable about her. After a second of debating whether I should get nosy or not, I said to her, “Carol, can I ask you something personal?”

  She put the cups on the counter and turned around to face me, looking uneasy. “Yeah . . . sure.”

  “How long have you and Krishna been seeing each other?”

  Carol opened one of the drawers, looking for flatware, conveniently avoiding my gaze. “Almost a year.”

  “Wrong drawer,” I said, opening the right one for her.

  “He’s really a great guy,” she assured me, picking up several teaspoons. “He’s quite thoughtful.”

  Thoughtful? Were we talking about the same man here? “That’s nice.” I kept my uncharitable thoughts to myself.

  “I never thought I’d fall for someone from a completely different culture.”

  “How did you guys meet? At work?”

  She finally looked up at me. “At an office party. He and I started talking, and we hit it off right away.” She waited a moment for my reaction before adding, “He asked me out the following week.”

  “He sure didn’t waste any time,” I remarked. Krishna knew a good thing when he saw it.

  “He was so different from anyone I’d met,” said Carol. “So down-to-earth and kind of shy.”

  Down-to-earth . . . maybe. But shy? Either Krishna had made a 180 degree turn since the last time I’d seen him or Carol was so totally in love that she was seeing things. But the next thing that came out of her mouth stumped me. “I’m really sorry, Soorya. I know you must hate me.”

  I stopped what I was doing and faced her. “Why would I hate you, Carol?”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Kris is going to be mad at me.”

  “Mad about what? What are you talking about?” I had my hands parked on my hips. Carol backed up a step or two. I was easily half a foot taller and a whole lot heavier than she. I probably looked like a raging bull ready to charge at her.

  “Kris told me about how the family expected the two of you to marry and . . . that you’re in love with him . . . but he didn’t return your feelings.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Is that what he told you?” The nerve of that lying, egotistical weasel! I was tempted to march out into the living room right that second and confront my smug, self-serving cousin. But I took a deep breath instead.

  “He broke your heart when he”—Carol said with a remorseful pause—“when he said he didn’t want to marry you, right?” All of a sudden she rushed forward, threw her arms around my waist and gave me a hug. “I’m sorry, Soorya.”

  “Sorry for what?” Taken by surprise, I awkwardly patted Carol’s head resting against my chest. Her hair smelled like peaches.

  “I know this hurts, but it’s not a good idea for cousins to marry. It’s not healthy.”

  “I know that, Carol. It’s definitely not healthy.”

  She pulled away. “So you do understand?”

  “Perfectly. And don’t worry, I never had any feelings for Krishna.” I gave Carol a casual shrug. “I don’t know where he got the insane idea that I was interested, but I never was and never will be. To me he’s just another cousin from India. I have several of them.”

  Carol’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I’m so glad you see it that way. I was worried and nervous about coming here today.” She gave a tremulous laugh. “God, am I relieved!”

  Poor Carol. She was taking this way too seriously. And how hilarious was that, now that I’d gotten over my initial fit of rage at Krishna and could actually see the humor in all this? The man had an ego as big as California, and since it had suffered a blow he’d come up with some ridiculous explanation to soothe it.

  I wondered if bringing Carol here was his way of throwing it back in our faces. Was that why he’d looked so smug when she’d made a public display of kissing him?

  I went about readying the forks and plates. “So, are you and Krishna serious?”

  Carol’s golden eyes lit up like light bulbs. “He’s talking marriage. I don’t know when, but I know he’s serious. Of course, I have to think about Adam’s future and then—”

  “Adam?” My radar beeped.

  “He’s my son.”

  My hand stilled for a second before uncovering the pie. “Oh.”

  “My ex has him every other weekend and part of the summer. Kris and Adam get along okay, but Adam’s a little shy around him right now.”

  “How old is Adam?”

  “Eight.”

  “I guess he’ll adjust in time,” I offered. What did I know about how an eight-year-old boy’s mind worked? But I had to say something supportive.

  “He’s only a little boy,” Carol said, defending her son. “And unfortunately he’s never been around anyone other than white people. That’s my fault, of course.”

  I smiled. “I understand.” Actually I didn’t. What was Krishna getting into? Had he even thought this thing through clearly? Marrying a divorced woman with a son was a lot to take on, especially for a spoiled brat raised in India. Clearly Carol was older than him, and a young son and ex-husband made the situation more complicated. What about the rest of her family? How did they fit in?

  And then again, was Krishna really serious about Carol or was he merely leading her on? The thought made me start fuming again.

  I could only imagine the fireworks this scandal, as Mom called it, would set off in my aunt and uncle’s home. My only hope was that Carol and her little boy didn’t get hurt in the crush. Carol seemed very trusting, from what I’d learned so far. And very much in love.

  The ruckus would erupt the moment Mom called Shantha. I had the uncomfortable feeling that Shantha and Raju would soon be arriving in the U.S., ready to do battle and rescue their precious son from what they’d consider a life sentence.

  Well, I actually began to feel a wee bit sorry for Krishna, but mostly I reserved my sympathy for Carol.

  Later, after everyone had dessert and coffee, I once again sent Mom out of the kitchen. I wanted to give her a real break. Another surprise awaited me as I turned on the dishwasher and started hand-washing the crystal. Roger came in with an offer to help. I thrust a towel in his hands. “I’ll wash and you can dry. Be careful. Those pieces are delicate and my mom loves them.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll do my best.” Roger happily dried every last glass with all the delicacy he could put into those lean fingers while he whistled some cheerful tune.

  “So, when is your opening night?” I asked him.

  “In ten weeks.” He inclined his head at the glasses he’d lined up on the counter. “Tell me where these go and I’ll put them away.”

  I pointed to the cabinet and he neatly arranged them on the shelf by height. The boy was handy in the kitchen. He was full of surprises lately, and good ones, too. I was beginning to see the eccentric Roger in an entirely different light, especially since our visit to the temple.

  “Are you nervous yet, Roger?” To me he looked cool as an ice cube.

  “Absolutely. The tension is killing me,” he answered, pressing a hand to his belly.

  I laughed and wiped
the wet countertop. “You experiencing tension, Vadepalli? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  He picked up the salad bowl from the draining board and dried it with great care. “I may not show it, Soorya, but I do get nervous. Lately I’ve been having nightmares that things are going to go terribly wrong at the last minute.”

  I could see he was serious, and I believed him. It was a huge production and he probably had no one to confide in. I’d have been a basket case if I were in his shoes. “I’m sure it’ll be all right,” I soothed. “Just have faith in yourself.” It came as a shock when I realized I genuinely wanted to reach out to comfort him, to cheer him up.

  Setting the last bowl down, he draped the damp dish towel on the handle of the oven and sprang another surprise on me. “Soorya, if you’re not busy on Saturday, will you have dinner with me?”

  “Why?”

  “My flagging spirits could use a boost.”

  “I can’t. I have plans for Saturday.”

  He looked at me for a long, speculative moment. “You have a date?”

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Irritation sparked. “You think someone like me can’t have one?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I’m too plain to have a date? Is that what you’re trying to imply, Roger?”

  “Damn it, Soorya, why do you get so defensive? Why can’t you accept the fact that you’re not plain? I’ve told you that, more than once. Why can’t you just let go of all those teenage hang-ups of yours and enjoy life for a change? You’re an attractive woman with a brilliant, spirited personality—when you’re not angry and prickly, that is.”

  “You don’t really mean that—the part about me being attractive.” He’d told me that before, but he was so full of bullshit sometimes.

  “Don’t tell me what I do and don’t mean. You just finished telling me to have faith in myself, so why don’t you have a little faith in yourself for a change?”

  “It’s not easy for me. It’s never easy. I was always the tallest and the biggest girl in school. The boys always gravitated toward the cute, petite girls. My parents talked my cousin into coming all the way from Arizona to take me to the senior prom because no boy had asked me. But then you’d never understand that kind of humiliation, Mr. Cute and Captivating.”