by Sonya Lalli
“Sat Sri Akaal, Nikesh,” Dad said in reply. “I’ve been looking forward to trying your dirty chai.”
“It’s on the house.” He pushed the drinks forward, and when I caught his eye, we smiled at each other. It wasn’t just Ainsley that I’d missed. It was her whole family.
“Where’s MacKenzie?” I asked him.
“With his babysitter a block over.” Nikesh looked at his left wrist, even though he wasn’t wearing a watch. “Actually, would you mind going with Ainsley and picking him up, Serena? He’s a been a handful lately.” He turned to my dad. “Uncle, how about you stay here with me. I could teach you how to make dirty chai.”
Dad, oblivious to the tension surrounding him, enthusiastically climbed into the booth with Nikesh. He even helped himself to an apron.
“When do we have to grab MacKenzie?” I asked Ainsley, staring at my shoes.
“Not for another hour.”
So, Nikesh had made up the excuse so Ainsley and I could talk and make up. My heart sang. Did that meant she wanted us to make up, too?
“Well, Nikesh is very smooth.”
“No he’s not,” Ainsley said. “He bit my tongue the first time he kissed me.”
I laughed, catching myself. There were a few people in line behind us pushing their way forward, so I grabbed my drink, and then we moved into the shade behind a neighboring stall.
“So how’s the office?” she asked coolly.
“Deborah promoted Carlos to digital director,” I said, unsure about where to begin. “Just this past week.”
“Good. I was worried she’d hire externally.”
“And I fired Vic.”
“No.” Fleetingly, Ainsley seemed to forget that we were fighting as I told her what had happened.
“I’m proud of you,” she said after I’d finished. “And I also heard you hired Becket on a six-month contract. That was a really good call.”
I looked at her, wondering how she knew.
“He and Nikesh still hang out.”
I nodded, glad that our breakup hadn’t affected their friendship.
“It’s nice that you guys have been able to stay friendly at work. Although, I think the fact that Becket’s met somebody already helps.”
“Has he? Good.”
“Sorry, I hope that doesn’t bother you—”
“Not at all,” I said, waving her off. “I’m happy for him. And, actually, I’ve met someone, too.”
“Oh?”
I wiggled my eyebrows sexily, if that was possible.
“Is it—”
“Jesse?” I beamed and felt a rush of happiness just thinking about him. “Of course it’s Jesse.”
“I knew it!” Ainsley cheered, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Didn’t I call this? Because if I didn’t say it out loud, I was thinking it the whole freaking time.”
“You called it.” I pressed my lips together, ready to say what I came here to say. “Because you know me. Ainsley, you’re my best friend.”
“Serena . . .” Her eyes welled up. Other than that one time with her father-in-law, I’d never seen Ainsley cry. “I’m sorry—”
“No, I’m sorry. It was such a stupid fight.”
“It was stupid! I didn’t even go freelance, in the end.” Ainsley laughed. “Now I’m at a tech company with even longer hours!”
“You are?”
“I’m a VP, for Christ’s sake.”
“Ainsley, congratulations!”
“I need to wear a suit every day. Can you believe it? I’m a suit!”
I hugged her fiercely as she hugged me back.
“You were right,” she said, whispering in my ear. “I was learning Punjabi for Nikesh’s dad. Fuck him.”
“Double fuck him—”
“And you made up with Mr. S? I’m so happy to see that.”
I pulled away from her, wiping my face as I nodded, happily. There was so much to catch up on with each other, and there would be time. If we were lucky, there would be decades of these moments. Impromptu trips to the farmers markets. Dinners at each other’s houses. Family holidays. Picnics and poetry readings, maybe even cooking classes.
Although, probably not trips to the sex club.
We’d fight, too. Of course we would. But we would always make up. With Ainsley, I would never stop making the effort to make up.
“I love you,” I said. My voice was weird. I’d never said that to a friend before, and I wondered how she would react.
“Serena Singh,” Ainsley said, throwing her arms out widely. “I love you, too!”
“I wanted it to be you, Ainsley Woods,” I said, clutching her face between my hands. “I wanted it to be you so badly.”
“You had me at hello!”
“Yes, yes!” I bellowed. “A thousand times yes!”
It occurred to us, after we’d exhausted our knowledge of romantic movie one-liners, that we had caused a scene. We had fallen over onto the lawn, and there were people looking at us as they walked by, some bemused or appalled or somewhere in between. It didn’t matter to either of us. We were getting too old for that shit, to care about what people thought of us.
We knew exactly who we were and what we wanted. And right now, we wanted to be silly thirtysomething best friends causing a stir at the local farmers market.
Author’s Note
My parents did not have an arranged marriage. Although they knew each other a bit through the South Asian community, they reconnected at my dad’s university graduation party, and the rest was history. My grandparents were progressively minded and wholeheartedly supported their interfaith marriage, and my brother and I grew up exposed to and influenced by the religions, languages, cuisine, and cultural traditions of both sides of my family. We had the best of both worlds. But most importantly, we were part of a family that encouraged us to value where we came from while never letting it limit us.
Every Indian living in the diaspora has a different story to tell about how and who they came to be. But we do share something in common: Our stories all started with the choices and sacrifices of the generations before us.
I’m incredibly lucky to have a platform to tell stories and be a part of the growing representation of South Asian women, and with each book, I draw from a different part of who I am and where I come from.
In my debut novel, The Matchmaker’s List, I channeled the confusion and disappointment I felt over the double standards about marriage that continue to be felt by South Asian women while also borrowing from the vibrant personality of my Nani to create the main character’s loving, meddling Hindu grandmother. In Grown-Up Pose, my main character, Anusha, went on a journey that reflected my own desire to break free of the “good Indian girl” label. I also explored my love for yoga, the Punjabi culture I inherited from my father’s side, and some of the Hindu beliefs and superstitions I understood from my mother’s side. And for the first time in Serena Singh Flips the Script, I drew on my Sikh background while also tackling the expectation on women—of any heritage—that we are expected to marry and have children in order to have our own “happily ever after.” Because no matter who we are or where we come from, we are in charge of our destiny and our own happiness.
Acknowledgments
I am immensely grateful to my family, particularly my mom and dad, for their love and support, and for giving me the freedom to write and flip scripts as I so please. Thank you to my big brother Jay, to whom I’ve dedicated this book. You are my role model, my rock, (my former tormenter,) and your words of encouragement seven years ago were what gave me the strength to take a leap of faith and start writing my first book.
Thank you so much to my husband, Simon. You’re literally there for me every day, whether it’s to make sure I’m well fed and caffeinated, to encourage me to write anyway on the tougher days, or to be my sounding b
oard. Thank you for sharing this with me.
A huge thanks to my Berkley family for being as fabulous as ever, particularly my brilliant editor, Kerry Donovan, as well as Brittanie Black, Dache Rogers, Fareeda Bullert, Mary Geren, Vikki Chu, Kristin del Rosario, and Claire Pokorchak. Thank you to my fantastic agent, Martha Webb, and her colleagues at CookeMcDermid for being my champions, and to Federica Leonardis and Stephanie Caruso for all of your help. And thank you to all of the book bloggers, booksellers, librarians, and more who have recommended my books, and for your incredible support online and in real life. It means the world.
Last but not least, I want to thank my friends for decades worth of love and laughter, and for giving me enough material to write a thousand books on friendship. Thank you to Annie, who captured my heart on the first day of Grade 5 and has never let go, and to my amazing elementary school friends: Emily, Michelle, Molly, and Ashley. Thank you to my high school squad—my sisters and my B’s: Beshmi, Fafa, and Steph, and to Liz, Sasha, Nick, Fows, Jazz, and Steve. We helped each other survive those awkward teenage years, and we’re still helping each other survive to this very day. And a huge thank-you to all the beautiful souls who have come into my life and whose friendship I am blessed to have, including Anju, Heather, Crystal, Bea, Roseanne, Stephanie, Kyrsten, Cléme, Qi, Katherine, Paige, Laura, Ron, and my wonderful friends and colleagues at House of Anansi Press and Groundwood Books. I love you all to the moon.
READERS GUIDE
Serena Singh Flips the Script
SONYA LALLI
READERS GUIDE
Questions for Discussion
At the outset, Serena has a strained relationship with her mother, Sandeep. Why do you think that is, and what motivates her to try to mend it?
Becket introduces Serena to the idea that she should go online and make proactive choices to find new friends. Why do you think Serena resists at first? Have you ever put yourself out there in a bid to make new friends, and what was that experience like?
Why do you think Serena created ground rules for her friendship with Jesse? Do you think it’s possible to stay friends with an ex without crossing any lines?
Serena’s budding friendship with Ainsley forces Serena to realize that she stopped putting in the effort with her friends as everyone grew up and shifted to different stages of their lives. Why do you think she didn’t realize her efforts were lagging, and why is it harder to maintain and form new friendships as adults?
Serena and Sandeep often feel like they do not understand each other, and Sandeep worries that by choosing to raise her children in America rather than India, she and her daughter will never truly understand each other. Do you think this is true?
During their breakup, Serena suggests to Becket that although he cared about her, he didn’t really want to settle down with her and just felt pressured to because he was getting “older.” Did that seem true to you? Why do you think both Serena and Becket stayed in that relationship for so long?
Serena and Ainsley become close friends very quickly, sharing everything from work lunches to family dinners to spontaneous poetry readings. What do you think draws them to the other person? Do you think the blossoming of a new friendship can be like the start of a romance, and if so, why?
Serena and Ainsley have their first big fight when Ainsley tells Serena she’s “closed off.” Why do you think Serena is the way she is? What barriers must she overcome to truly open herself up to a future that has room for true romantic love?
Sandeep tells Serena that “it’s OK to love the people who have hurt you.” Discuss how this applies to the relationships between the characters in the book.
Toward the end, Serena wonders if she would still have accomplished all of her career goals and become the same woman she is today if she had married Jesse twelve years earlier. What do you think?
Serena ultimately welcomes Natasha back into her life, accepting that not every relationship can be a “two-way street.” Have you ever been in this position and faced this kind of choice with a good friend or a family member?
Keep reading for Sonya Lalli’s next novel . . .
A Holly Jolly Diwali
Available soon from Berkley!
We need to talk.”
I paused the television just as Matthew McConaughey pressed his palm against Jennifer Lopez’s flawless cheek. Mom and Dad were at the bottom of the stairs, dressed up for the party I’d already thought they’d left for. Their faces were like stone, and when Dad put his arm protectively around Mom’s shoulder, my stomach bottomed out as I imagined the reasons for said talk.
1. They were getting a divorce.
I sank further into the couch, mentally shaking my head. This was unlikely. Most Indian couples their age, however fluent in English and miserable together, refused to learn the “D” word. Besides, my parents’ marriage was, for all intents and purposes, a happy one. Trust me. My bedroom was just down the hall from theirs, and sometimes I could hear how happy they still made each other. Ugh.
2. One of them was sick.
My hands trembled just thinking about this scenario, but then I remembered they both had physicals the month before, and their doctors had said everything was just fine. I should know. I drove them both to and from their appointments so they didn’t have to pay for parking.
3. Jasmine.
Yes. Jasmine. My whole body relaxed when I realized the most likely scenario was that my older sister was up to something again. On the verge of a scandal. Had broken up with her deadweight boyfriend du jour. (Oh god. Let it be that!) Or maybe she was just being a run-of-the-mill pain yet again, and my parents wanted to vent to me before they ran off to whatever function they planned to attend that evening.
“Yes?” I asked, ready to hear the answer.
Silently, they trundled toward me, but instead of taking one of the many seats in our living room, they chose to stand directly in front of the TV.
“What is up?” Dad asked cheerfully. “Busy?”
“Very.” I laughed. “What is up with you?”
He glanced at my mom, who was clearly about to do the heavy lifting. I blinked at her, and although I was curious what it was Jasmine had done to upset them again, I was ready to get back to The Wedding Planner.
“We are worried about you, Niki.”
I scrunched up my face. Hold on a second. They were worried about me?
“You are?” A knowing glance passed between them.
“Care to elaborate?” I asked.
“Niki, it’s Saturday night,” Mom said. There was a tinge of annoyance in her voice, like when I didn’t rinse my plate before putting it in the dishwasher. “Why are you home?”
“Mom, I—”
“Enough is enough.” She held up her hand like a conductor, cutting me off. “Niki, you are very . . . very . . .”
“Successful?” I volunteered. “Obedient?”
“Single,” she interrupted.
Wow. Mom burn.
Yes, I was single and had been for a while, but I didn’t know how the “very” played into that.
I tucked my legs under me. “What’s your point?”
“You know,” Dad continued. “There are apps for dating. Have you heard?”
“No,” I deadpanned. “What’s a dating app?”
“Well,” Dad started, but then Mom interrupted.
“She knows very well what a dating app is. Niki, are you on the Tinder? The Bumble? The Hinger?”
I smiled, even though I was irritated. Clearly, they’d done their research before the big talk.
“I am not,” I said flatly. “I don’t like the idea of meeting people online.”
“So you’d prefer to meet people in person?” Dad gestured at Matthew McConaughey. “I see you are meeting so many good candidates
.”
Mom grinned, and even I had to laugh.
Dad burn. Very nice.
“Niki, we are not upset with you.” Mom started pacing; she always enjoyed the theatrics. “We are so proud. But, we think you need to start . . . putting yourself out there. You understand?”
“Like, I need to start dating.”
“Hah.”
“Maybe I’m already dating. How do you know I don’t have a secret boyfriend?” I crossed my arms. “Or girlfriend, for that matter? Maybe I have several. Maybe I’m a total player.”
Mom narrowed her gaze at me. “And when do you see all these boyfriends and girlfriends? On the bus home from work? Do you sneak them into your parents’ house after you come straight home every day?”
I groaned, burrowing my face into the pillow. Another Mom burn. But this one stung.
You see, they weren’t totally wrong. My friends constantly gave me a hard time for not being on “the apps,” and warned me that I would never meet anybody if all I did was work, go to the gym, and socialize with our group of friends. All of my colleagues were either in committed relationships or single for a reason, and my gym was women-only, rather inconvenient considering that I was straight. And while there was a time when I’d had ample opportunities to meet new guys while out with my friends, the closer we got to thirty, the more we stayed in, choosing each other’s living rooms instead of bars.
Now, I was twenty-nine years old and getting zinged by my parents, the same parents who used to stomp their feet whenever Jasmine flitted in and out with a new guy. The same Mom and Dad who, up until today, seemed thrilled that I still lived at home, that I wasn’t in a relationship they needed to worry about.
I sighed audibly, glancing up at them. I felt annoyed but not surprised, as far too many of my South Asian friends were starting to sink in an all-too-similar boat. One day, we’re practically barricaded inside with our textbooks, “boys” not only not a subject worth discussing but, more often than not, entirely off limits.
