He offered frequent compliments toward the meal, using adjectives that were only appropriate for the Food Network. He told my parents how much he missed them, how magnifique our house was, and how wonderful I was, even though he didn’t know me. There was a strange silence among all of us when he expressed his condolences regarding Vijay. Instinctively, my parents and I turned to the empty chair as if Vijay would suddenly appear. It didn’t hurt me to see it empty the way it used to. I silently thanked Ethan for that.
The guilt hit me. Could this be construed as cheating? I didn’t think so, but Ethan wouldn’t be happy to know what I was doing. That was an understatement. Should I give permission for Ethan to see other people? As soon as I thought it, my fists clenched and a jealous heat crept into my face…and it wasn’t from the spicy curry. That wasn’t an option. Besides, he wouldn’t want to.
“So, Meena, are you always this quiet?” Chetan asked, taking a third helping of cauliflower curry.
“She talks all the time,” my mother chirped. It was comical that she’d actually answer this question for me that I would have giggled if I weren’t so annoyed.
“I don’t have anything to say.”
“I’d like to hear about your interests,” Chetan said, plinking his fork on my mother’s good china. It irritated me as it did when he spoke. He talked with his mouth full.
“I’m an economics major.”
“I know that. Do you plan on working?”
“I’m getting a degree, aren’t I?” I folded my arms, feeling the heat of my mother’s gaze without even looking at her.
“I know, I, ah…meant what will you do?”
“Do you think women shouldn’t work? Is that why you asked me?”
“Meena, stop that,” my father admonished.
“It’s all right, Uncle. I asked her; let her talk. No, Meena, I think women should work. Of course, I’m a modern man. They should do whatever they want. That is until it’s time to have a family, and then maybe they stay at home or work part-time. What are your thoughts on that?” Damn, he is interviewing me.
I shrugged. “That’s fine for some woman, but I plan on working. I think the traditional ideas of women staying at home are a bit archaic.”
Chetan seemed to be pondering my statement. “I don’t have any issues with it. I guess I come off as old-fashioned, but I’m not. I have very modern opinions, and the ability to view things openly.”
“What are your thoughts on legalizing gay marriage?”
My mother gasped, my father slammed down his glass, and I silently cursed my stupidity.
“It’s immoral,” Chetan answered without hesitation. “What are your thoughts?”
“I agree,” I said, to which Chetan’s shoulders relaxed immediately. “It’s immoral to keep two people who love each other apart.”
“Meena, that’s enough. I’m sure Chetan doesn’t want to hear about your California radicalism.”
Chetan surprised me by smiling brightly. “You always spoke your mind, and I always liked that. I remembered that about you. That and all the games of tag I let you win.”
Just like that, I instantly felt remorseful. Chetan, Vijay, and I played tag when he came to visit, and I always won. It was obvious now he’d let me. Hell, they’d both let me. They were tall, athletic boys, and I was a clumsy little girl. In hindsight, it was pretty cool they even let me hang out with them at all. “You let me win?”
“Yes, but you always beat me fair and square at chess.”
The conversation eased up after that. I made an effort to be civil, bordering on cordial. Chetan didn’t ask opinions about my worldviews again, and I didn’t give them. My parents relaxed somewhat, and even my father smiled a few times. Overall, the evening wasn’t a complete bust, but I knew one thing for sure. I will never marry Chetan Malhotra.
Chetan spent the night with us. I excused myself after dinner and read in my room until I heard everyone go to bed. I made my way downstairs to grab a snack. I was so uptight and upset, I’d barely eaten my dinner. My father was in front of the television, watching CNN. There’s no news like twenty-four-hour news, he’d often say.
“Beta, come sit with me,” he said so quietly I might have imagined it.
I sat on the recliner adjacent to him. He kept watching the television, and I wondered why he’d asked me to join him. Finally, he spoke over the serious but pleasing voice of Anderson Cooper.
“You don’t like him, do you?”
I smiled softly. “No, I’m sorry.”
A small smile played on my father’s lips. It was sad, though, like all his smiles. “He’s somewhat conceited.”
I jerked my head up, surprised my father had noticed this. The way my mother extolled Chetan’s virtues, he could pass for the reincarnation of Gandhi.
“We won’t force you into anything, Meena. But I would like you to keep an open mind. A good woman can change a man.”
No woman is that good.
It was ironic that he was asking me to keep an open mind about this when Chetan seemed very close-minded. “I’m not ready to consider anyone.”
“I don’t expect you to be married tomorrow, but you should be serious during events like tonight’s dinner. This is not a game. You are the most important thing in the world to me.”
My heart tightened to hear my father say that. We all loved each other, but it was rare that our mouths could channel those emotions into words.
“I know, Papa,” I said, calling him by the name I used when I was little. His smile brightened.
“Meena, I worry about you. We moved here to provide more opportunities for our future children. So…you and…you could have more, do more, be more.” He was about to say Vijay, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “But I question that decision all the time. I see evidence every day of the disrespectful attitude that is common in this society. Mostly, I see the contemptuous way marriage is treated here. It’s a mockery. People make bets on it. Celebrities become even more popular when they divorce after a month of marriage as if it was a joke to begin with. It’s easy to get confused between what makes a lasting union and what doesn’t.”
“What is that?”
“There’s that stupid adage that opposites attract, but in reality, being with someone of a similar background, someone who comes from the same cultural ties and moral belief system, is what creates a lasting union. People get confused with these small sentiments of excitement, but they don’t understand that when the heart burns, it’s really heartburn.”
“Huh?” I asked in utter confusion.
“That romanticized notion that’s on every TV show, movie, or book. The one that says love is like a sudden burning in your heart. That’s really just heartburn. You feel it for a short time, and then it naturally goes away, even if you do not medicate. It’s not meant to last, and it never does.”
“Dad, I understand what you’re trying to say.”
“I’m not finished. I want to tell you a story about our family. Do you know why your mother and I settled in this small town?”
“I thought it was to get away from the overpopulated chaos of Boston.”
My father laughed. It was such a rare sound that I joined in, though I had no idea why it was funny. “Meena, we’re from India. We’re used to crowds and chaos. That never bothered us. We moved here because we thought Mashpee would be less distracting for you and…”
Why can’t he say my brother’s name?
“Well, also because it was surrounded by water, and it reminded us of home in that way. We wanted to move back, though…to India. We talked about it, and I even inquired about positions in hospitals at home.” His admission shocked me, but it disappointed me that he referred to India as home since I’d never lived there.
“When was this?”
“When you got suspended for smoking in the bathroom at school.”
I straightened up, shuddering. My father had never been so angry with me. I’d been twelve, and I’d
thought I wouldn’t live to see thirteen. His eyes were so huge and his anger so apparent that a vein jutted out of his neck when he screamed at me that he couldn’t understand how a daughter of a brain surgeon could be so stupid.
“But you changed your mind?”
“We were talked out of it.”
“By who?”
“Vijay.” His voice choked.
I swallowed back the lump in my throat. He finally said my brother’s name. How could a twelve-year-old boy talk two stubborn adults like our parents out of such a decision, especially one as docile and obedient as my brother?
“He heard us talking one night. He pled with us to reconsider. He said you were a smart girl, and you had learned your lesson. He argued neither of you would be able to acclimate to India, and we’d be horrible parents for forcing you to move. Mostly, he just promised us that you would never disappoint us again.”
I had no idea any of this had happened. The crazy thing was Vijay would have been fine with the move. He was introverted but self-sufficient. He could have lived anywhere. Me…I wasn’t so sure. Vijay’s appeal was for my sake not his. A gut-wrenching thought hit me. If we had moved, he wouldn’t have died. If I hadn’t skipped school that day, he wouldn’t have died. If I hadn’t been born, he wouldn’t be dead. How many ways had I killed him?
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, willing myself not to cry. My parents never said they blamed me for Vijay’s death, but I didn’t need them to voice it. I saw the blame in their faces.
“Because, Beta, I want you to honor your brother’s memory. Don’t disappoint us again.” My father stood up and turned off the television. He paused where I sat and started to bend down as if he were going to kiss or hug me, but then he stopped himself and settled on patting my head instead.
Like clockwork, the salty, hot tears fell down my face as soon as his bedroom door closed. I sobbed for an hour, until there was nothing left but shuddering gasps. My father missed my brother dearly. He wanted me to be married for all the reasons he stated, and one he didn’t. He wanted a son again, but he’d settle for a son-in-law as long as the man I married met the qualifications. I renewed my vow to honor Vijay’s memory by not disappointing my parents again. I would provide my father with some relief in the form of a new son-in-law. I would provide my mother with some happiness in planning a wedding and creating an extended family. I would do all of these things because Vijay’s blood would always stain my hands.
Chapter 17
“I THOUGHT RAJ WAS PICKING us up,” I said to Rachael when I spotted Ethan’s tall, lean frame heading for us at the airport. I wasn’t ready for the sight of him, and as usual, he took my breath away.
Rachael shrugged. “Don’t look at me. He’s your boyfriend. I have no idea why he’s here.”
“Hey,” he said, placing my bag and Rachael’s on his broad shoulders. “Raj had car troubles so he asked if I’d get you guys. Hope that’s okay.” It didn’t surprise me that Raj and Ethan talked. I knew they had hung out occasionally and were real friends. It made me very happy.
“Sure,” I replied, but neither of us moved. We just stared at each other, smiling like idiots at San Jose International.
“Jesus. Just hug or kiss or something so we can go,” Rachael demanded.
I took a step forward, and Ethan put down our bags. I embraced him, wrapping my arms around his neck tightly. He picked me up and spun me around. “I missed you, Sunshine.”
“Me too,” I replied against his neck.
“Can we go now? This is too much PDA even for me,” Rachael said dryly, but she was smiling in approval.
Ethan and I sat in the car in silence while Rachael prattled on about her holiday from the backseat. The Christmas presents she’d received, her resolutions, and finally, the crazy New Year’s Eve party she’d attended, adding for no reason that she’d invited me but I’d refused.
Ethan turned to me raising his eyebrows.
“It wasn’t my scene.”
Rachael didn’t know the wild, free-spirited me that existed when Vijay was alive. She only knew the meek, morose, quiet me that surfaced after his death. Somewhere during our time at Stanford, she’d found the real me. The girl that existed somewhere between the other two, and I loved her for that.
“Will you come over?” Ethan asked.
I nodded, but I didn’t trust myself to speak. I wanted to talk to him in private. Of course, Rachael already knew what I was going to tell him. We reached the dorms. Rachael hopped out of the car, grabbing her luggage before either of us could say anything.
“Want help taking your luggage upstairs before we go?” Ethan asked me, making a move to open his door. I reached for his arm to stop him.
“Why move it twice?”
He grinned widely. “Really?”
“Yes, let’s go home,” I replied, threading my fingers through his.
My conversation with my father and my resolve to have an arranged marriage did not deter me from Ethan. In fact, it did the opposite. My justification was that I should enjoy this time before my impending nuptials. I couldn’t think of anything I enjoyed more than the boy sitting next to me, with the too-long, brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. I knew we both cared for each other, and it would be difficult when this ultimately ended, but there was no reason to start the painful process of healing just yet. Ethan and I were adults. I had been honest with him, and he’d accepted the limitations that came with me. This was, in a manner of speaking, my way of sowing my wild oats.
Ethan
I had my back to the door, and she was pressing her body against me, kissing me hard and fast. I tried to get the key in the lock, but it was impossible from this angle.
“Baby, I can’t open the door,” I said, gently pulling her away from me. Yes, we are going to have some really good I-missed-the-fuck-out-of-you sex. We are totally going to fuck the miss out of each other.
Once the door was open, I had a strange desire to carry her over the threshold, but I quickly blocked it. I brought in her suitcase, and she headed for the couch. It was disappointing she didn’t go straight to the bedroom, but I could wait. I sat next to her and pulled her legs over me. She went a step further and shifted onto my lap.
“We’re home,” I said, not hiding my grin.
“Yes, we are.”
“What should we do first? Or should I say, where should we do it first?”
She giggled against my chest. “First, I want to give you my gift.”
“You got me a gift? You know atheists don’t celebrate Christmas, right?”
“Think of it as more of a thank you for letting me move in with you gift.”
“That’s cool, since I have a gift for you too.”
“You know I’m not Christian either, so I don’t need a gift. Besides, you gave me the telescope.”
“That was just so we could spend New Year’s together. This is a welcome home gift.” I smiled coyly. “It’s pretty awesome you agreed, otherwise I would have felt like a total dumbass about it. I was really taking a gamble on this one.”
She stared at me curiously.
“You first, Sunshine.”
She got that excited look on her face and jumped off my lap. She came back with a long manila envelope and placed it in my hand.
“What is this? A roommate agreement?” I joked.
“Open it.”
I undid the clasp and felt her tense on my lap. I didn’t have to look at her to know she was biting her lower lip as she always did when she was nervous. I stared in disbelief at the comic book inside the envelope. A Batman vintage collector’s comic. “You shouldn’t have spent this much.”
“It wasn’t that much. There’s a store in Boston that has good deals on stuff like this.”
“I know exactly how much this costs, Sunshine. Don’t lie to me.”
“Do you like it?” she asked tentatively.
“It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.”
“Really?�
� The surprise was apparent in her voice.
“Yes,” I answered honestly, kissing her forehead.
“Are you going to read it?”
I laughed. “Hell, no. I’m going to lock it away in an airtight box and admire it from afar.”
“Hmm, seems like a waste.”
“I already know what it says, anyway. He wins. He always does. Now, it’s my turn. Stand up.”
She stood up, and I placed my hands on her hips and led her to the other bedroom. She looked at the closed door and back at me. “You’re giving me Darren’s old bedroom? Not exactly the sleeping arrangements I had in mind.”
I laughed, putting my arms around her. “You won’t be doing any sleeping in here. Close your eyes.”
I looked to make sure they were closed. I opened the door and led her in, positioning her in the middle of the room for the best view.
“Open,” I ordered and realized I was very nervous now. I didn’t know how she would react to this, and it could go either way. She was very quiet, taking in the room. I’d covered the carpeting with linen drop cloths. There was a drafting desk in the corner and an adjustable artist’s easel stood in the middle of the room with a blank canvas. A comfortable swiveling stool was in front of it. A few more blank canvases and sketch pads leaned against the far wall and shelves lined with baskets of various artist’s tools and mediums took up another wall. Meena walked toward the shelves, exploring each basket.
“I didn’t know what you’d like so I got some of everything. There are paints, pencils, and charcoal.” I jabbered on about everything, trying to get a read on her expression. She seemed shocked.
“You did this for me?”
I rubbed the back of my neck and nodded. “I thought you’d like to explore your passion. Do you like it?”
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