“What else did you do this weekend?” Achchan asked, just as Amma walked in and smiled at him.
He gave her a peck on the cheek and grinned warmly back. This was about as demonstrative as they got with each other in Sweetie’s presence, but Sweetie supposed it must be different when they were alone together. Her being alive was evidence of that, right?
Ew. Maybe it was better not to think about that.
“We went to the farmers’ market. Sold all of our sweets.”
“Excellent!” Achchan boomed. “Now you must expand your empire, Vidya.”
Amma just laughed and rolled her eyes.
“You must have had a lot of customers to sell all of them, no?” Achchan asked, getting a glass of water.
Amma glanced at Sweetie before looking away. “No, no, it was just one lady. She was a big fan.”
“Oh! Very nice.” Achchan gulped down his water. “It doesn’t surprise me, you know, Vidya. Your sweets are out of this world.”
Sweetie felt a sinking in her stomach. Amma really wasn’t going to tell Achchan about their encounter with Sunita auntie. Sweetie knew exactly what Amma would say if she were confronted: What was the point of bothering Achchan with something that was never coming to pass? Sweetie felt an electric bolt of anger. Amma thought she could control everything about Sweetie’s life—who she went out with, what she wore, what Achchan knew. But she couldn’t control Sweetie’s heart. She couldn’t control Ashish.
“Shall we go get some lunch at It’s All Greek to Me?” Achchan asked when he was finished with his water. It was their ritual; anytime Achchan returned from a business trip, they’d go to this Greek restaurant and eat gyros.
“Sure,” Sweetie said, and then, as Achchan grabbed his car keys, she added, “Do you both mind if I drive this time?”
This was unprecedented. Sweetie never, ever drove when her parents were accompanying her. She watched Achchan’s mouth pop open slightly. She saw Amma’s face go from suspicion to annoyance and back.
“Why?” Amma asked finally.
“Because I want to?” She coughed and tried again, getting rid of the question mark this time. “I want to.” Sweetie’s heart hammered against her chest; she’d never been so assertive in her entire life.
Amma opened her mouth to say something, when Achchan quieted her with a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, Vidya. Let her drive. After all, she’ll be driving us around a lot in our old age! Might as well start practicing now!” He began guffawing at what he thought was his razor-sharp wit. Amma acquiesced with a slight nod of her head.
Sweetie grinned on her way out the door. Man, it felt good to get her way, to say what she felt. Maybe she could ask for more stuff. Maybe this was how it would begin, her transformation from Sweetie the Softie to Sweetie the Sassy: one statement at a time. Watch out, world. I’m coming.
CHAPTER 9
Ashish was humming as he walked in the front door. And not anything manly; he was humming “Love You like a Love Song” by Selena Gomez. God, if the guys on the team heard him, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.
He crossed the foyer, nodding and grinning at Myrna, their housekeeper, who raised her bushy blond eyebrows at him in surprise. As he entered the living room, he decided he’d take a shower and then go see what Oliver and Elijah were up to. And, of course, he’d very casually drop the good news: that he was finally back on that horse they’d been urging him to rope and saddle. Also that he just happened to have hopped back onto the horse with the best track athlete at Piedmont, who also happened to be sporty and absolutely gorgeo—
Ashish stopped short. His parents were sitting on the couch in the living room. They’d drawn the drapes to make the room darker and had then turned on one lone light in the corner. They were staring at him completely seriously.
“Uh, hello,” he said, licking his lips. Jeez. What was with the Godfather impression?
“Ashish, idhar aao. Come sit, beta.” Ma patted the chair next to her.
Uh-oh. Pappa continued to stare at him, eyes narrowed, jaw set. That was never good. That was his boardroom someone’s-gonna-get-fired face. He’d seen it once when he was a kid and Pappa had to take him in to work because Ma was sick. He’d never forgotten it. It was … make-your-butt-cheeks-clench formidable.
Ashish sat. He wanted to ask a million questions, but instinct told him to wait them out. Let them give him what they had, and then he’d see what to share with them. It was a careful game of cat and mouse he’d honed over the years.
“Ashish … kahaan thay tum? Where were you this morning?” Pappa’s voice was low, almost just a growl. Ma put a warning hand on his knee, but he ignored it and kept glaring at Ashish.
“I … told you.” Ashish looked at Ma, though he didn’t like lying to her again. But this time it wasn’t just about him. It was about Sweetie, too. “I was at, um, Elijah’s.”
Ma looked at him, her expression soft and hurt. “You told me you were at Oliver’s.”
“Th-that’s what I meant,” Ashish said quickly. “Elijah was there too.”
“Really.” Pappa leaned closer. “Do you want to change your story?”
“Don’t cross-examine him, Kartik,” Ma said gently. Then, looking at Ashish: “Oliver and Elijah came by, looking for you.”
Dang it. Busted. He kept his face neutral.
“So, let me ask you again: Where were you, Ashish?” Pappa said, leaning back against the couch. He really would make a great don if he ever wanted a career change. Get out of the tech and business game, get into the breaking-kneecaps market.
“Look, I don’t know what’s up with the Indian Inquisition thing you’ve got going on here,” Ashish said, crossing his arms. “But you’re not getting anything out of me.”
Ma looked from Ashish to Pappa and then back again. “Hai bhagwan, you’re both so much like each other, it’s scary sometimes.” Sighing, she said, “Ashish, nobody’s trying to interrogate you. We just want to know the truth. Were you with Celia?”
Ashish stared at them. “What? No!”
Ma held up her hands. “We’re not judging, beta. But when I saw you all dressed up … I just had a feeling. And then you lied to us, so … Beta, she’s broken your heart. Is it really worth the pain?”
Oh great. Now his parents thought he was a loser who’d go back to some girl who’d treated him like dirt and left him a zombie with no game. Ashish ran a hand through his hair and put his elbows on his knees before looking at his parents again. “Look, Ma, Pappa … I wasn’t with Celia. I promise.”
Ma’s face relaxed, though Pappa’s remained thunderous.
Ashish hesitated. He’d told Sweetie he was willing to go behind their parents’ backs, and he didn’t want to renege on that. But he also couldn’t keep lying when he was being interrogated like this. Don’t ask, don’t tell was a different matter. “The truth is, though, that I did lie to you. And I’m sorry. I was with Sweetie Nair.” He took pains to pronounce her last name correctly—so it rhymed with “buyer,” not “hair”—because he didn’t want to give his parents another reason to jump on him.
He watched as Pappa’s face melted from pure thunder to vague confusion and back to murderous rage. Ma froze into a mask of neutrality. It was actually kind of comical.
“Sweetie Nair?” Ma asked. “What were you doing with her?”
“Sweetie Nair! Whose mother said she wanted nothing to do with the idea of you two dating? What were you thinking, Ashish!” Pappa roared. Turning to Ma, he said, “What do you think he was doing? Probably up to hanky-panky just like with those other girls! Are you trying to ruin her life?”
Ashish looked at them in disbelief. “Okay, wow. Can we all just calm down and tone down the Bollywood theatrics? Thanks for the vote of confidence, by the way, Pappa. I wasn’t ruining her life with ‘hanky-panky.’” He did the air quotes a little savagely, stabbing the air with his fingers. “If you must know, we were … running.”
The confusion was back, on both Ma
’s and Pappa’s faces this time. “Running?” they said together. “Is that some kind of slang for ‘hanky-panky’?” Pappa added in irritation.
“Will you stop with the hank—okay, look.” Ashish took a breath to flush away his annoyance. “Sweetie Nair texted me last night. She heard you and her mom talking, Ma, and she also heard you say that her weight was a stupid reason for her mom to say she couldn’t date me.” He held up a hand when Ma opened her mouth to protest. “I know you didn’t say it in those exact words, but that was the gist of it and Sweetie heard that part. So she wanted to talk to me in person. And …” He shrugged. “She isn’t a skinny supermodel, so she wanted me to see that she isn’t lazy or whatever the stereotypes are for fat people.” He had to force himself to say the word neutrally, like she had. “And the truth is, she impressed the heck out of me. She totally kicked my a—butt on the track. She’s really nice, too, and smart. And so … we both decided that we do want to date.”
“Oh ho! So you both decided?” Pappa said, his face getting pinker and pinker with each word. “Without asking your parents?”
“Ashish, Sweetie’s parents don’t know. It’s not right for you to do this behind their backs.” Ma’s voice was soft, pleading.
“No, you know what isn’t right? For her mom to decide that she isn’t good enough to date me because of the size of the clothing she wears. Okay? Sweetie is thoughtful, intelligent, passionate, and beautiful. If you want me to stop dating girls like I have in the past, then you really couldn’t do better.”
“Bilkul nahin! I forbid it!” Pappa thundered.
But Ma was looking at Ashish thoughtfully. Putting a hand on Pappa’s arm, she said, “Ashish, could you please step out for just a moment and give us some privacy? I’ll call you back in a minute.”
He looked from her face—she definitely had something cooking under that mask of neutrality—to Pappa’s apoplectic one, then shrugged and stood. “Okay.”
Ashish crossed the vast living room into the adjacent dining room. There was no door between the rooms, just a huge archway, but he was far enough from Ma and Pappa that he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Well, most of what they were saying.
Occasionally phrases would leak through (mostly because Pappa seemed to be shouting them and Ma seemed to be raising her voice to match his tone).
“… not appropriate!” Pappa.
“… first time he’s … nice girl …” Ma.
“… nky-panky!” Pappa.
“… our chance … he’s got a reputation … good family … convince them somehow, eventually …” Ma.
“… guidelines. No negotiations!” Pappa.
“Fine.”
“Ashish? Ashish?” Ma again.
Silence.
Ashish sat up. Oh, she wasn’t talking to Pappa anymore; she was actually trying to get his attention. He crossed the dining room quickly and went back to the chair in the living room. His parents were both staring at him in still silence, like two mannequins with moving eyes. “Back to the creepy, are we?”
Pappa raised his eyebrows. “Kya?”
“Nothing,” Ashish mumbled.
Ma spoke first. “Ashish, we have decided, after much deliberation, that we will allow you to date Sweetie.”
“And you won’t tell her parents?”
“We won’t.” Ma held up a finger when he smiled. “But not because we think it’s the correct thing to do. Rather … well, we think this will be good for you. You have always resisted learning about your culture, maybe because Pappa and I have pushed you too hard and you think everything we say is ‘uncool.’ But somehow Sweetie’s family has managed to raise a daughter who is respectful and knowledgeable about hers. Maybe being with her will rub off on you, hmm? Besides, beta, I’m afraid you’ll develop a reputation in the Indian community for being a rebel and feeling like you’re better than Indian girls. Pappa and I have been worried about it, and we feel this will help change that perception.”
Ashish laughed. “So this is like a PR campaign for my brand?”
Pappa glared at him. “It is not a laughing matter, Ashish. It is not just your reputation, but your entire family’s. Think of Rishi and Dimple. Do you want the focus to be on your wayward ways when it comes time for them to announce their engagement? For us to plan their wedding?”
Ashish sighed. And there it was: It always came back to Rishi, the golden child. “No, of course not.”
Pappa nodded briskly. “Good.”
“We’ll tell her parents in due time,” Ma said. “But until then …”
“We have some conditions you must follow if you want to date this girl.”
Ashish froze. “Um … what kind of conditions, exactly?”
“You can only go on dates that are sanctioned by Ma and me,” Pappa said, a smug smile on his face.
Ashish blinked. “Wait, what? You guys are going to tell me where to take Sweetie?”
“Yes. Four dates. You must go on all of those or the deal’s off.” Ma raised one eyebrow. “It’s your choice.”
Ashish huffed a laugh. “You know I could just go behind your backs and date her, right? I mean, I have a car and so does she.”
Ma picked up her phone off the side table. “I can call her mother right now and tell her what you two have been planning. I have a feeling Sweetie won’t be going anywhere after that.”
Ashish shook his head slowly. “When did you two become such criminal masterminds?”
Pappa laughed, obviously pleased with this assessment of his character.
“We’re not trying to control you, Ashish,” Ma said. “We just want what’s best for everyone in this situation.”
“Yes, and assigning your dates will cut down on the funny business.”
A frightening thought occurred to Ashish. “Wait. Where are you going to be sending us that you feel we won’t be able to, uh, get into trouble?”
“We will refine the list,” Pappa said, steepling his fingers, “but for the first date we are both agreed that it should definitely be the mandir.”
Ashish looked from one parental face to the other, hoping that one of them would crack a smile to show that they were yanking his chain. But they just stared at him. He rubbed his face and tried to collect himself. “Are you serious? You want me to take her to the temple for our first date?”
“Why not?” Pappa said. “It is an auspicious place, full of good omens.”
Ashish looked at Ma pleadingly, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage this thing. “Come on, Ma. Do you really think this is a good idea, or did Pappa bully you into it?”
Ma laughed. “Pappa does not bully me into anything, Ashish. Do not take my quieter nature as weakness. The mandir was my idea. And don’t worry, we’ll have three other equally well-suited places for you to take Sweetie.”
“That’s our deal; take it or leave it,” Pappa said.
“And if I don’t take it, you’ll tell Sweetie’s parents.”
“Correct.” Ma shrugged. “At least this way when we do tell them, we can say we kept a guiding hand on you two and made sure nothing untoward happened.”
“So, do you accept the terms?” Pappa asked. “Can we close the deal?”
Sighing, Ashish closed his eyes. “Yes. We can close the deal.”
“Excellent!” Ma said, smiling. “Then you better ask Sweetie to meet you here so we can give her the good news.”
“And so I can meet her, of course,” Pappa added jovially.
“Can’t wait,” Ashish mumbled, pulling out his phone.
CHAPTER 10
“Next month is someone’s seventeenth birthday,” Achchan said, stuffing an entire square of baklava into his mouth. Sweetie had two of the honey-covered sweets on her own plate as well, much to Amma’s distress. “What should we have at the party? Magician? Petting zoo?”
Sweetie laughed and tried not to roll her eyes. “Achcha, I’m not eight.”
“Okay, then, you tell me what you want and we will get it! What d
o the cool kids like nowadays?”
Sweetie ate a piece of baklava. “Well, I don’t know about the cool kids, but I thought one of those giant chocolate fountains would be cool. I’ve always wanted to try one, and it’ll keep the little kids happy too.”
“Not a good idea,” Amma said, folding her hands on the restaurant table.
“Alle?” Achchan asked. “Why isn’t it a good idea? I’ve heard they’re not too expensive.”
“I don’t think Amma’s talking about the cost,” Sweetie said quietly, though her hands shook under the table. Suddenly she was getting very, very tired of Amma’s irrational fixation with her weight. Maybe it was that single act of rebellion, going to see Ashish Patel and deciding to date him behind her back, but it was like something bright and volatile was beginning to spark inside of her. “She’s talking about my weight.”
Achchan cleared his throat. “Vidya … it’s her birthday. She’ll be having birthday cake, after all.”
“Athey. All the more reason she doesn’t need a chocolate fountain also.”
So now it was what she was wearing to the party and what she could eat there. What else might Amma want to sanction? How much air she could breathe? What words she could say, being a fat person? Maybe she shouldn’t even talk about food. You know, just in case people thought she was some kind of glutton. In case she embarrassed Amma again. She could feel the pressure of the words behind her teeth, building and building until she was sure she’d scream. “Bathroom,” she said instead, pushing out of the booth and speed walking to the ladies’ room, leaving two confused parents behind.
Her eyes were hot with tears, and she tried to blink them back as best she could. Luckily, the bathroom was empty. Closing herself in a stall, Sweetie pulled out her phone and dialed.
“Hello, Sweetie?”
Just hearing Anjali Chechi’s voice put her more at ease. “Hey. Are you busy?”
“Never too busy for you. What’s up, little sis?”
Sweetie grinned. Anjali Chechi was her older cousin: a successful surgeon, married to an equally successful video game developer, and … fat. She was Achchan’s oldest brother’s child, and she got on Amma’s nerves more than anything. Because how dare she be happy, successful, and fat? Amma especially didn’t like how Sweetie felt more comfortable in her own skin after talking to Anjali Chechi on the phone or after one of her visits. Amma’d once told Sweetie that Anjali Chechi would encourage her to remain unhealthy. Amma was of the opinion that surrounding Sweetie with Bollywood gossip magazines and fashion catalogs would inspire her to lose weight. But with Anjali Chechi, Sweetie could just be herself. She was constantly being forced to think of herself as the before picture, but when she spoke to her cousin, she saw that the after picture could include her just as she was right now. She didn’t need to lose weight to become the success story Amma so desperately wanted her to be.
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