There's Something About Sweetie

by Sandhya Menon

  Pinky and Elijah protested, but Ashish shook his head at them and they fell silent. He looked down at Sweetie and smiled a little. “Um, sorry to just leave like this. But I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

  She nodded slowly and he walked away. She’d probably call and cancel their date before Saturday. Whatever. To be honest, he was starting to think that maybe he wasn’t ready to date again at all.

  Outside in the parking lot, the air was cool and dry. Ashish walked over to the Jeep, grabbed a hoodie from the back, and put it on, zipping it up to his throat. Even though the parking lot was empty, he felt strangely exposed.

  He leaned against the Jeep and texted Rajat, asking him to pick him up. This was nothing new; Rajat was pretty much on call 24/7 and had picked up Ashish at parties before when he didn’t want to drive. Rajat was discreet, if nothing else. Ma and Pappa wouldn’t ask any questions about why Ashish had come home from his study group in the family car, without his friends.

  Someone cleared her throat behind him and he turned, expecting Sweetie. But it was Pinky. Her hands were deep in her jacket pockets, and she shifted from foot to foot, like she was uncomfortable. Neither of them were “feelings” people like Oliver was. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  They stared at each other. Then Pinky said, “You’re leaving because of me, right?”

  “Why would it be because of you?”

  She sighed and leaned against the Jeep beside him. “I should’ve just let his bullshit roll off my back. But I can’t. That guy annoys me so much. He’s just so selfish and …” She sucked in a breath. “Anyway. I’m sorry I made a scene like that. Especially in front of Sweetie.”

  Ashish bumped her gently with his arm. “Nah, it’s okay. I know you were just trying to look out for me. It’s cool; you can’t help but love me.”

  Pinky snorted. “Right. So … you excited about your date with her? She seems nice.”

  A car drove by and they both looked up, but it was a green Mustang. Relaxing back against the Jeep, Ashish said, “She is nice. But I think she’s probably going to call the whole thing off. And honestly, maybe that’s the right thing to do.”

  “What? Why would you say that?”

  “I mean, just hearing about Celia makes me all … I don’t know. Like I’m Mount Vesuvius and I’m just waiting to blow. I’m no shrink, but I’m pretty sure that means I’ve got some unresolved crap. Oh, and hearing what Samir said probably made Sweetie want to run away as fast as she can, which, let’s face it, is pretty dang fast.”

  “Okay, one: So you’re not over Celia. Isn’t that what this is about? Going out there, getting back on the horse again? Giving another girl a chance? And two: If she runs, it’s totally her loss.”

  “Aww, thanks, Pinky Dinky Doo.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “You’re such a good friend.”

  “Ugh!” She made a half-hearted motion to struggle and get away. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

  The bell above the front door of Roast Me tinkled and they both looked up. Sweetie stood a few feet away, looking at them. She waved a little awkwardly as she made her way over.

  “I think that’s my cue.” Pinky extracted herself from under Ashish’s arm. Turning to him, she said quietly, “Give her a chance, Ash.” Her eyes were big and devoid of her usual Pinky sarcasm. “I have a good feeling about this one.” Then, nodding at Sweetie, she walked back inside.

  He looked at Sweetie, approaching in the purple-white lights of the streetlights. Even now she was beautiful. It wasn’t just her physical appearance, though. Something about the way she held herself—that tentativeness, that open-eyed curiosity, that beguiling shallow dimple that popped out whenever she smiled or quirked her mouth—all of those things were attractive to Ashish, and he just couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was her pheromones. He’d read somewhere that if two people were suitable for each other, they’d find each other’s smells really compelling. He flared his nostrils and tried to sniff surreptitiously.

  Sweetie narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?” She was standing about two feet away now, her head tipped back to look at him.

  Crap. “Uh … nothing. Nothing at all.” He stuck his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and looked out at the street. “You don’t have to wait with me. It’s kind of cold.”

  “I run warm,” Sweetie said. “So it feels nice out here.”

  There was a pause. He could sense her question in the space between them but didn’t press her. Honestly, the longer he could pretend that Samir hadn’t wrecked everything between them before it had even had a chance to get started, the better. He could live in fantasyland for a little while longer. Just like he had with Celia. Apparently, he didn’t learn lessons too easily. Wasn’t that an indicator of intelligence, how fast you learned things? Well, he was lucky he had basketball as a way to get into college, then.

  “Ashish …”

  He forced himself to look at her but kept his face neutral. She, on the other hand, looked anxious, her big eyes full of questions. The urge to wrap his arms around her to comfort her was almost overpowering, but he managed to resist.

  She swallowed. “What Samir said. About that girl Celia. Is it true?”

  He tried a smile, but it didn’t quite make it to his face. “What? My friends didn’t fill you in the moment I left?” Oliver was the one who’d caused this whole mess by inviting Sweetie to sit with them in the first place. And by inviting Samir. It stood to reason the moment he was asked that he’d flap his lips to Sweetie.

  She frowned a little. “No. All they said was that you’d had a hard time recently and I should talk to you about it.”

  Ashish rubbed a hand across his jaw. Oliver and Elijah were such good people. He really didn’t deserve them. “Oh.” Taking a deep breath, he continued. “Then … yes. It’s true. I went out with Celia for almost six months. It was mostly long distance because she goes to SFSU, but still. It meant something.” He laughed a little scornfully. “To me, the high school dumb-ass, anyway. We started to drift apart, but I felt sure that we could work it out. I mean, we were barely talking, but … yeah. I just thought what we had was real.”

  “So … what happened?” She asked it without judgment or greedy curiosity.

  Ashish shrugged. “I went up to visit her at her dorm one day and her roommate told me she was out with some guy. She didn’t even have the decency to tell me herself.”

  He heard Sweetie sigh, soft and low in the night. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” He heard the bitterness in his voice but couldn’t stop it.

  She leaned against the Jeep too, and they both stared at the cars passing in the street for a while. “And you’re not over her.” It wasn’t a question.

  He turned on his side to look at her then. He needed to look into her eyes when he said this, so she really understood. “No, I’m not. And I don’t know when—if—I’ll ever be. So if we date, you have to realize … you’re not getting all of me, Sweetie. And if that means that you need to walk away, I’ll totally get it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, agitated. “I’m sorry. I thought I could handle this, you know. Dating again, being with you. Because I like you. I really do.”

  “But you still see her when you’re looking at me?”

  Ashish shook his head; that wasn’t quite right. “No, it’s more like … she keeps darting into my line of vision when I’m looking at you. Like I haven’t put all of that behind me yet. I’m not sure if I can connect with you on any kind of deep level because of her, Sweetie.” It was kind of strange all of that came tumbling out. … Maybe he should be embarrassed. But he wasn’t.

  Sweetie leaned her head back against the Jeep as she looked up at the sky. Ashish felt his palms grow damp as he waited for her to say what was on her mind. He really cared what she thought, he realized. He wanted to be honest with Sweetie. He wanted her to know him, to fully know what he could offer and what he just couldn’t. That was why he wasn’t embarras
sed about everything he’d just word-vomited out.

  Finally she turned on her side too, to face him. “I still want to go out with you. It’s not ideal for me to date a boy who’s still hung up on someone else, I’ll admit.” She laughed a little. “But this whole dating thing for me is about something else too. You know how you wanted to date again, sort of like a palate cleanser to get rid of the Celia aftertaste?”

  He nodded, smiling a little at the way she’d put that.

  “Well, I wanted to date someone like you”—here she made a gesture toward his entire body—“to prove to myself that I could. My mom’s always talking about how I need to get thin before someone handsome will give me a chance. And I knew in my heart that she was wrong.”

  “She is wrong,” Ashish said forcefully, and she looked up at him in surprise. “I’m sorry, but that’s total crap. You’re beautiful. And you’re incredibly talented, too. Any guy would be lucky to go out with you.”

  “Thanks.” Sweetie smiled and looked down at her feet, her dimple almost slaying him. “Anyway, we both have things we want to achieve through dating each other, and it’s not that one big, grand true love, right?”

  Ashish nodded.

  “So.” Sweetie shrugged. “Let’s just keep on with the plan. Maybe I’ll help you forget Celia a bit, and maybe you’ll help me see that I should listen to Amma less about what I can and can’t do while fat.”

  Ashish smiled. “Really? You’re sure?”

  “Totally.” She held out a fist for him to bump, and after a surprised pause he bumped it, laughing.

  “You’re cool, you know that?”

  “Obviously.” She stuck out her tongue at him, and then they were both laughing.

  Car headlights swept over them, and Ashish looked over his shoulder to see the off-white Escalade with Rajat behind the wheel. “Oh, I should …” He gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. “Hey, do you want a ride back home?”

  “No, that’s okay. I drove.” Sweetie smiled and stepped back. “But I’ll see you Saturday at your house, right? So we can go to Pavan Mandir together?”

  Ashish nodded. “Pavan Mandir. Get ready to get your worship on.” He rolled his eyes.

  Laughing, Sweetie waved a little shyly and turned to walk to her car. Ashish watched her all the way.

  CHAPTER 16

  The rest of the week raced by like, well, Sweetie on the track. Kayla, Suki, and Izzy kept her mind busy with talk of the upcoming Band Night at Roast Me. Saturday morning, just as Sweetie was finished with her shower and getting dressed, Kayla sent out a group text with the good news.

  Kayla: we now have 12 bands ladies! Band Night is totally on!

  Izzy: WHAT

  Suki: F$%^#$@#@@$%F

  OMG, Sweetie typed, sitting back against her headboard in her room. How did you make that happen?? Yesterday we were at 5!

  Kayla: I told you before BGM

  Sweetie: ??

  Kayla: black girl magic

  Kayla: also I promised Antwan I’d seriously think about his promposal if he agreed to publicize at Eastman and got us to at least 10 bands

  Izzy: haha well then I guess you owe him a date

  Kayla: I was already going to say yes but this is way better than a corsage

  Sweetie: hahahaha you are hilarious and ily

  Kayla: ily2

  Suki: okay so that’s Kayla’s prom plans and band night taken care of … what about you, Sweetie?

  Sweetie: what about me

  Kayla: don’t play coy bb your date’s in what an hour?

  Sweetie: yeah just about … I’m NERVOUS you guys

  Izzy: but this is just about proving to yourself you can do it right? So there’s no need to be nervous!!

  Suki: she’s right you know … just remember that you’re one kick-ass lady. He’s the lucky one

  Kayla: you’ve got that brown girl magic, too, S. You got this

  Sweetie: OMG I’m crying. TY guys Ilysm

  Kayla: love you too we’re here for you

  Suki: love your face

  Izzy: Love you!! Have fun!!

  Sweetie: k I’ll text you guys when it’s over

  Suki: Yeah let’s grab some fro yo or something and debrief

  Izzy: Yessss

  Kayla: I’m in

  Sweetie: k!

  Sweetie set her phone down and blinked away the tears. She had, hands down, the best friends in the world. She felt readier now than she had all week, just with a small pep talk from her crew. If Kayla, Suki, and Izzy believed she had this, then she had this. She trusted their judgment implicitly, even when she didn’t trust her own. Speaking of trusting judgment … She grabbed her phone again and texted.

  going on my first date today with Ashish Patel

  Anjali Chechi: Okay you have NOT filled me in enough to drop that bomb on me

  lol sorry will do that soon

  Okay okay. Remember: SAFE SEX

  Omg Chechi seriously we’re going to Pavan Mandir

  Okay you have NOT filled me in enough to drop that bomb on me

  lolol I will I promise

  Okay then talk soon!

  Okay

  Just seeing Anjali Chechi’s words on her screen made her feel even more secure. Ashish Patel, let’s face it, was a small part of her life. There were others who knew her, who loved her, who felt like she was on totally equal footing with this basketball star who could be a model if he chose. Amma wasn’t one of them, but so what? Sweetie walked up to her vanity, drew on some winged eyeliner, and smiled at herself. She was wearing a yellow kameez top with little red flowers on it and plain white salwar pants. Her dupatta, the shawl, was red with gold thread shot through. (It was a little warm for a long-sleeved outfit, but Amma had once told her her arms were her worst feature, and Sweetie had never quite been able to get over that.) She’d paired the whole thing with red sandals and a gold bindi, something she wore only to the mandir. Her hair hung in loose waves down her back and she felt almost beautiful today, and that was a good day in any book.

  She still had more than an hour, so she walked over to her closet and pulled out her art supplies. She could finish working on the boxes for next week’s farmers’ market (she’d decided not to go with Amma this weekend, as she had to get ready and be in the right head space for the date). She’d just set everything up on the dining room table and gotten comfortable when Amma walked in.

  Sweetie glanced at her and then back down at the box she’d been tying the burlap ribbon on to. “Where’s Achchan?”

  “Taking a bath. He’ll be out soon.” Amma bustled around in the kitchen, putting things away. “Hopefully I’ll sell almost everything today.”

  Sweetie made a vague, noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. She was still pretty mad about the whole thing with Ashish, to be honest. She still felt completely betrayed that Amma had told Sunita auntie that Sweetie wasn’t good enough for her son. And so she didn’t feel like looking at Amma right now, let alone talking to her.

  “Want some chai?” Amma asked from the kitchen.

  “No, thanks.” Sweetie kept her eyes on the heart she was attaching to the corner of the box. She hoped Amma would go sit outside to drink her chai like she did when the weather was nice.

  But no such luck. A moment later she was sitting two chairs down from Sweetie, watching her work while noisily slurping her drink.

  Sweetie wanted to glare at her but managed to resist.

  “That’s nice,” Amma said. “I like that color palette. Red looks pretty against the brown of the burlap.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Sweetie said, reaching to snip off some more burlap.

  “I’m making coconut chicken curry tonight. And pal payasam for dessert.”

  Sweetie glanced at Amma. Those were her absolute favorite foods. “But it isn’t Onam.” Onam was a festival from southern India, and Amma was fairly rigid about making pal payasam only during Onam or for other special festivals.

  Amma shrugged and sipped her chai. “S
o?”

  Sweetie knew what this was: a peace offering. Amma and Achchan—and Sweetie by extension—didn’t ever say “I love you” like her friends and their parents did. They made up not by talking about their feelings or sharing deep, intimate moments. Instead there were myriad ways of saying I love you or I’m sorry in their house: making someone’s favorite dish; helping someone design the boxes for their sweets; being present at the farmers’ market every Saturday so Amma never had to sit alone, or every track meet so Sweetie would always see a friendly face in the audience, no matter how far away the other school was; drawing a black dot in kohl on the cheek to ward off the evil eye; buying the right kind of soap before someone ran out.

  But sometimes, like today, Sweetie wished Amma would say the words. That she’d say she was wrong or that Sweetie absolutely was good enough for whomever she chose to date, that her worth wasn’t measured in dress size or pounds or kilograms. But that would never happen. So they sat there, in silence, until the bell on the big clock in the living room tolled nine o’clock. Sweetie got up, put away her art supplies, and smoothed down her hair.

  Then, going back out into the living room, where Amma and Achchan were now, she said, “Okay, bye. I’m leaving.”

  Amma looked up from her Bolly Gossip magazine for a moment. “You’re going to Kayla’s house?”

  “Yes. We’re going to study for that calculus test.” Sweetie’s palms were drenched. She hated lying; it was hardly ever a good idea. She’d read once that if you were lying about something, it generally meant that your values were clashing with your actions. But the article hadn’t talked about what to do when you knew, 100 percent, that you were right and your parents were wrong, but it had been ingrained into you from childhood that lying to them was the worst possible thing you could do.

  The guilt only intensified when Achchan beamed at her. “My Sweetie, straight-A student and star athlete! So focused on her studies.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Sweetie mumbled, not quite able to meet his eye.

  “No, it’s true!” Achchan said, reaching out and taking her hand. He tugged on her and she sat in the oversize recliner, half squeezed in beside him, half on his lap. They’d sat like that since Sweetie was little, when he’d read to her from whatever book she was obsessed with that week. “I am very proud to call you my daughter. Your Achchan is very lucky, and he knows it.”