She was wearing skinny jeans and a black halter top, while Sheena was dressed in the exact same thing, except that her top was hot pink. She rushed over and grabbed Sunita auntie in a bear hug, which was kind of hilarious to watch because she was much shorter. “How are you, darling?”
Sunita auntie smiled sweetly, but Sweetie thought she could see the strain in it. Rajat, the driver, was stone faced as he climbed back into the driver’s seat, having deposited Sunita auntie’s bags in the trunk, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Sunita auntie stepped a half step back. “Hello, Tina. I’m well; how are you?” Her gaze flickered over to Sheena, who was looking down at her phone. “Hello, Sheena.” Sheena flashed a smile and then went back to her phone.
“So, we’re going to Taj!” Tina auntie said. She smiled very briefly at Amma and Sweetie before turning back around to Sunita auntie. “I went there on opening night, you know! It was packed with celebrities! I saw Will Smith and Jada, and they just looked so happy! I got the same thing as them—the lamb vindaloo. It was spicy. I hope you came prepared!” She trilled a laugh that nearly punctured Sweetie’s eardrums.
Sunita auntie gestured to Amma and Sweetie, moving her body so they were suddenly part of the conversational circle again. She did it with a practiced gracefulness, so it wasn’t completely evident she was doing it unless you were really watching. “I hope you both like it. The chef is supposed to be world class.”
“I’m sure we will,” Sweetie said politely. She already liked Sunita auntie. She was classy and glossy while simultaneously being approachable and momlike somehow.
Tina auntie and Sheena just about muscled their way into Sunita auntie’s car, so Sweetie and Amma headed over to their sedan.
“So!” Amma said, just as the engine turned over. She looked at Sweetie. “You know who that is? Kartik Patel’s wife.”
When Sweetie looked at her blankly, Amma clucked her tongue. “The CEO of Global Comm?”
“Oh,” Sweetie said. “Ashish Patel’s parents?” Oh, right. Sunita auntie had introduced herself as Sunita Patel. “Well, that explains the chauffeured car and buying five hundred dollars’ worth of sweets, I guess.”
“And the invitation to Taj.” Amma smiled. “But Sunita is very down-to-earth, you know. Very modest. I spent quite some time talking to her at Tina’s birthday party. We have the same values for raising our children.”
“Cool,” Sweetie said absently. Ashish Patel’s sad eyes flashed in her memory again. So apparently, in addition to lots of money and the adoration of hundreds of basketball fans across the state, he also had a really sweet mom. What was the hairline crack in his perfect life?
CHAPTER 5
Taj was just as opulent and pretentious as Sweetie was expecting, but it was still really fun to be in an environment like this one, so different from anywhere she usually went. There were models roaming around—beautiful, pin-thin people with peacocks on delicate leashes, iridescent feathers trailing behind them. Sweetie wondered what happened when the peacocks pooped. Or maybe they’d been trained not to do that somehow. Maybe they saved all their unsightly activities for after hours.
She saw the Indian maître d’ (a brown Ashton Kutcher) take in her and Amma’s not-quite-Taj-level attire with a slightly disdainful sneer. Then he saw that they were with Sunita auntie, and his entire face changed. He went from looking like a man who’d bitten into moldy bread to someone who’d just been visited by the lottery fairy. “Mrs. Patel!” he said, clasping his hands together.
“Hello, John,” she said. “I don’t have a reservation, I’m afraid, but—”
“That’s not a problem at all, Mrs. Patel! You know we always have a spot for you. I will show you to your favorite table.” With a smile, he led them toward a table upstairs, with a bird’s-eye view of the entire restaurant. To either side, windows showcased the beauty of the impeccably kept rose gardens.
When they were all situated with their gold-foil menus in their hands, Tina auntie spoke up. “What’s the occasion, Sunita? Why are we here today?”
Sunita auntie’s glance passed over Sweetie, as if she was weighing something. And then she smiled breezily. “No real occasion. I was in the neighborhood and remembered you’d said Vidya is at the farmers’ market on Saturdays. We were sorely in need of some sweets.”
“Oh, well, good thing we were at the farmers’ market too! Sheena was finding some jewelry for the prom, you know.” She elbowed Sheena, who was still on her phone. “Sheena beta, you don’t have a date to the prom yet, do you?”
Sheena looked up from her phone. “Well, I was going to see if …”
Tina auntie smoothed a lock of her hair off her forehead and she stopped talking. “It’s so hard to find a good boy to go with, even as friends. These American boys just want one thing.”
“Um, I’m American too,” Sweetie said. “And so is Sheena. We were born here.”
Tina auntie waved her hand. “Oh, you know what I mean, Sweetie.”
“Not really,” she mumbled under her breath, before going back to studying the menu. Ooh, they had lamb biryani. But then there was the shrimp korma, which was probably equally delicious. Oh, and she’d read on Zagat on the way over that the paneer makhani was a must. Dang.
“Sweetie’s birthday—” Amma began in the silence, but Tina auntie cut her off.
“So is Ashish going to his prom, Sunita?” She was smiling so wide, Sweetie was afraid to look directly at her whitened teeth. And jeez, the lady had no game. It was so obvious she wanted Sheena to hook up with Ashish, it was almost like some sitcom situation.
Sunita auntie held up a finger. “I think Vidya was about to tell us something,” she said, and she sounded so much like a teacher telling off an overzealous kindergartner with no manners that Sweetie almost choked on her water.
Amma smiled gratefully. “Oh, yes. Sweetie’s birthday party is coming up in four weeks. We’ve been trying to find her an outfit.”
“I already know what I want,” Sweetie mumbled. She wished she were just a bit braver so she could say it loudly.
“So what kind of outfit are you thinking of?” Sunita auntie asked, leaning forward. “Something Indian or something Western?”
“An Anarkali suit, I think,” Sweetie said. She noticed Tina auntie fidgeting, eager to bring the conversation back around to Sheena and Ashish. “I always like Indian clothes for special occasions.”
“That’s nice,” Sunita auntie said. “I wish Ashish wouldn’t be so opposed to wearing a kurta every now and again.”
“Yes, but the Indian outfits for girls nowadays are becoming so risqué!” Amma said, shaking her head. Sweetie tried not to roll her eyes. “Halter tops and exposed backs …”
“Nothing wrong with halters!” Tina auntie laughed, wiggling her shoulders to show off her own halter top. “But of course, one has to have the body for it, no?” Smiling snidely, she took a sip of her water.
Sweetie felt her face get hot. Here it was, the beginning of Tina auntie’s efforts to show, once again, how amazing she and her offspring were and how damaged Sweetie—and by proxy, Amma—was. Sunita auntie opened her mouth to say something right when their waitress, a college-aged Indian woman, approached.
“Hello!” she said, smiling brightly. “My name is Lakshmi, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Would anyone like some lassi?” She looked at Sweetie.
The yogurt drink was one of Sweetie’s favorites. “Yes, please,” she said. “I’ll have a mango lassi.”
Tina auntie made a noise. “Not for me or Sheena,” she said. “Lassi is one of the fattiest drinks you can get. We’ll stick with water.”
“I’ll have a jal-jeera,” Amma said quietly when it was her turn, and Sweetie’s heart sank. She’d never, ever stood up to Tina auntie for her. Not once.
“I think I’ll have a namkeen lassi,” Sunita auntie said. She smiled at Sweetie. “After all, what’s the point of coming to Taj and not trying their famous lassi?”
Sweetie smiled we
akly. She got what Sunita auntie was trying to do. It just … didn’t really help. She didn’t want people making snide remarks at her, but she wasn’t a charity case either. Why couldn’t people just leave her alone? She picked up her menu and began to study it as if it were the most important thing in the world.
After they’d all ordered—Tina auntie helpfully telling Sweetie the dal had the least calories—Sunita auntie pulled her phone from her bag and looked at it. “Oh! Tina, do you remember that sideboard you saw in the dining room and asked about? Well, my furniture person says he just got another one in stock from France now, but he’s afraid there’s another customer who’s very interested.” She tapped out something and then made a face. “Mm. He says he can’t hold it because she wants to buy it on the spot, but if you can get down there in the next thirty minutes, he’ll give it to you as a favor to me.”
“Oh, I really need that sideboard,” Tina auntie said, looking genuinely distressed. “But all this food we’ve ordered … and I don’t want to leave you!” She looked at Sunita auntie a little desperately.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Sunita auntie said. “I’ll be sure to pack the food up and donate it to the homeless shelter on the way home. And I won’t be alone—I have Vidya and Sweetie to keep me company, after all.”
Tina auntie glanced at the two of them dubiously. “Yes … of course.” As if making up her mind, she nodded and grabbed her purse. “Come on, Sheena! Let’s go. Thank you for the heads-up, Sunita.”
“Of course,” Sunita auntie said, smiling sweetly. “Rajat can drive you there and then straight to your house so you can get it all set up.”
“Really?” Tina auntie grinned, looking pleased. “But won’t you need the car?”
Sunita auntie waved a hand. The golden ring set with pearls sparkled. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure he can be back in plenty of time to pick me up.”
“Great. Thank you again, Sunita!”
Tina auntie and Sheena tip-tapped out of the restaurant, Tina auntie’s eyes laser focused, her expression hungry.
Sunita auntie took an audibly deep breath once it was just them. “I admire Tina’s passion, but … sometimes she can be a little intense.”
“Oh, she’s not so bad,” Amma said loyally. But why? Why was she so loyal to someone who was such a total douche?
Sweetie grinned. “Did you really get a text about the sideboard?”
Sunita auntie laughed. “No. But I did text Ishmael to tell him she was coming. Hopefully, he’ll have something else to please her.”
Sweetie relaxed. This act of kindness didn’t feel like charity. She got the feeling that Sunita auntie genuinely didn’t like Tina auntie too much, and the thought cheered her. The waitress arrived with their food, and Sweetie dug in with gusto. “Mm.” She closed her eyes. “Those Zagat reviews don’t lie. This is heaven.”
Amma gave her an embarrassed smile. It was Amma’s opinion that Sweetie should never talk about food. “If you act like you don’t like it, then people will assume you have thyroid problems, mol,” she often said. Because thyroid problems were sympathetic, but being fat was not. Fatness made you the enemy of the people.
“Isn’t it delicious?” Sunita auntie said. “I’ve never had such good aloo mattar.” Dabbing her mouth with a napkin, she said, “You know, my oldest son, Rishi, loves aloo mattar.” She smiled a little wistfully. “None of us like it as much as he does, so we hardly ever eat it anymore now that he’s away at SFSU.”
“How often do you get to see him?” Sweetie asked.
“Once a month or so. He tries to divide his time between us and Dimple, but of course, Dimple usually wins.” She said it without bitterness, with a fond sparkle in her eye.
“And how are things? With him and Dimple?” Amma asked.
“Absolutely great,” Sunita auntie said. “I would like them to get married after Dimple finishes graduate school, but Rishi tells me I must not ever bring it up. Apparently, she’s of the more modern mind-set and would prefer not to think of marriage until her thirties.” She sighed.
“Kids nowadays have their own ideas about how things should be,” Amma said, and Sweetie could almost hear the tsking.
“Oh, yes. Ashish is completely different from Rishi. He’s very … modern. Very Americanized.” Her gaze darted to Sweetie. “Have you run into him at any of your games, Sweetie?”
She shook her head. “No, but some of my friends have. So I know of him. I saw his picture in the paper recently. Oh, and congratulations! I hear he has a really good shot at playing basketball in college.”
“Yes, yes, he’s very athletic, just like you,” Sunita auntie said. “Everything on that front is going well. But … I really wish he would find an Indian girl to date. These other girls just break his heart.”
Amma looked a little embarrassed. She wasn’t opposed to Sweetie dating, but that wasn’t a problem she’d ever had to worry about, and Sweetie got the feeling that both she and Achchan were happy that things were that way. “Oh, perhaps when he’s in college …”
“Yes, that’s what I thought, but then it occurred to me: If he’s already like this with our moderating influence, can you imagine what he’ll be like in college? He seems to think that if he dates an Indian girl, we’ll be breathing down his neck the entire time. But I keep telling him, it’s not like we expect him to get married at seventeen! Maybe dating Sweetie will show him we can restrain ourselves.” She smiled at Sweetie.
Amma laughed, a nervous, high-pitched sort of thing. “Yes, yes, maybe you’re right. Of course, we wouldn’t know about such matters.”
Sunita auntie’s careful gaze slid from Sweetie to Amma. “Sweetie’s not allowed to date? I was under the impression that you and your husband—Soman, isn’t it?—were not opposed to it.”
The waitress came by to check on them, and there was a slightly awkward shift as they all reassured her that their food was, in fact, as delicious as they’d expected. When she was gone, Amma said, “Well. This was absolutely delightful, Sunita! Thank you so much for inviting us. But now, I think, we must go.” She smiled a fake smile that looked like someone had just suggested she eat a bag of hair but she wasn’t sure how to refuse politely. “Soman is returning from his business trip in an hour.”
“But I thought Achchan was gone till tomo—”
“He called. His flight changed.” Amma glared at her. “Come on.” She reached for her purse, but Sunita auntie waved her off.
“Oh, no, please, this was my treat.” After pausing, she asked delicately, “I hope I haven’t offended …?”
“No, please, don’t worry; we are just in a hurry. Nothing to do with you. Thank you very much for the lunch.” Amma kept smiling that rictus fake smile as she and Sweetie got up and made their way outside, leaving a somber-looking Sunita auntie behind.
“Amma, what—” Sweetie began as soon as they were out in the parking lot.
“Nothing.” Amma walked briskly to their car. She could move at a pretty good clip for someone who was totally unathletic in every other way, and Sweetie sped up too.
“Is Achchan really coming home today?”
“No.”
They got in and buckled up, Amma already backing out before Sweetie was fully finished. “Then why did you—”
“I have my reasons, Sweetie.” That tone meant, Don’t ask me any more questions, because you’re not getting any answers.
Sweetie sighed. “Is it because it’s Ashish Patel? Do you not approve of him?”
Amma said nothing. Her eyes were glued to the mostly empty highway as if it were that old Malayalam movie Kilukkam, which featured Amma’s lifelong crush, Mohanlal.
Sweetie tried a different tack. She could actually kind of see herself dating him. That picture of his that Suki had shown them … that kind-of sadness in his eyes … how athletic he was … She had a feeling Ashish Patel might be an interesting guy. And, to be honest, if their parents were setting them up, it was a lot less scary than her approachin
g a guy she liked. Which she’d never done. Because what was the point? She saw the way guys at her school looked at her. At first it had just been disdain and mockery because of her weight. And then, as she beat record after record, it was respect. Platonic respect. The kind of platonic respect that made them laugh when anyone even suggested that they might take her to the prom, as Izzy had suggested to Brett Perkins once. Sweetie had been sitting across the cafeteria, but she’d heard him say something along the lines of, “Aw, man, I love Sweetie like a sister. Or actually, like a brother. She’s just not the kind of girl you take to the prom, you know? I mean, I don’t even really think of her as a girl.” That had been a year ago, but you didn’t forget that stuff easily.
“I thought you and Achchan would be happy—an Indian boy for my first date. Plus, if his parents are setting it up, you know he’s going to be on his best behavior. Not to mention he’s from a good family.” Sweetie personally didn’t give a crap what kind of family he was from, but she knew it was important to Amma and Achchan. She was totally cheating, but whatever. Amma wasn’t sharing everything with her, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.
Amma darted a glance at her and then focused back on the road. “No, Sweetie.”
No, Sweetie. There really wasn’t much else to say about it, was there?
Sweetie slumped in her seat and rested her head against the window, watching the world go by.
CHAPTER 6
Ashish sat on the terrace in the gloom of dusk, watching the sun set in the distance. He was alone again. It was Saturday evening, and he was alone. Hello, Loser Territory, may I please plant my flag here? I think I am your new king. He took a dejected swig of his Coke. Pinky had hooked up with some guy at the protest. She’d taken a picture with Mr. Hippie White Boy Dreads and texted it to him with devil horns drawn on her own head. Ugh. Ashish didn’t want to know what she had planned. Oliver and Elijah were on their romantic date. And here he was on the terrace, sipping a Coke, watching the sunset. By himself. Even his parents were off doing more interesting things. He was like some forty-five-year-old dude, minus the wife and kids. This had happened more often than he cared to admit over the past three months, ever since he and Celia had broken up. And now that there was zero hope for reconciliation thanks to some douche with overzealous thumbs, Ashish supposed this was what he could expect for the foreseeable future. “Depressing” didn’t even begin to cover it.
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