“I wish the universe would show me kindness the way it has shown you. You are so lucky to have everything you do.”
I didn’t write back. Seriously? Could we for once not discuss how “lucky” I was?
Suddenly, my phone rang. I was startled, thinking maybe it was Jay.
“Whatchya doing, sis?” Naina sounded excited.
“Jay….”
“What did the fucker do this time?” Her voice was stern. “Cough it up.”
“He got a cat.”
“Sooo?” Naina had this drawl in her accent whenever she was taken by surprise.
I wanted to tell Naina about my suspicions about the Jay-Dev connection, but she was so critical, I shut down. “He got a Persian cat and sent me the photos.”
“That Jay is turning into a real loser. Hope you didn’t write back.”
“How could I not, Naina?”
“Yeah, because the good Indian woman is trained to take shit from all.”
“Naina….” I tried to interrupt. I wanted to tell her that I was slightly scared.
“Ahana, stop being so fucking available all the time!”
I tried saying something, again, but Naina yelled, “I am not done yet. When was the last time Jay asked about you?” She continued, “He bought a Persian cat? They don’t come cheap. Every trip to the vet costs upward of $200. I know because my fiancé has one. If a guy is so broke that he can’t visit you, his ‘friend’ in NYC, how can he spend over a grand on a cat?”
“I don’t know.” I had wanted to tell her that I shared similar concerns, but I couldn’t tell Naina anything because we never did have a normal conversation when it came to Jay.
“He got busted, pal. He is a liar…that much we know for sure. I need you to ask yourself what positive although dysfunctional purpose Jay serves in your life.”
I couldn’t take Naina’s harshness any longer. “I’ve got to go, Naina. Rohan is picking me up at 7:30 p.m.”
“Yeah, you just don’t want to hear anything against that fuck face. I don’t know why you can’t see that Jay is manipulating you.”
“Love you too!” I hung up abruptly. Seriously, Naina! If only you’d hear me out once.
I was uncomfortable with the vibe I was getting from Jay, but a hunch about Jay wasn’t enough to come to any conclusion. I had to know more.
Even as I stumbled from the sofa and hopped into the shower, I felt a little tired. The run had felt so good to my body and mind, but I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep.
That said, I didn’t want to cancel on Rohan, maybe because I worried he would tease me to death: “Yo, Matron! You ditched coz you are avoiding treating me!” Or maybe because I was starting to enjoy his company. After my divorce and Mumma’s death, I had not cared for anything social or myself. I met with my friends in Delhi occasionally because they were old relationships and could get away with dragging me to places. But the emptiness inside my heart grew an inch bigger every day.
I scrubbed my body in the shower, but I couldn’t wash away Naina’s opinion of Jay. She was right; how did he find the money to bring home a Persian cat when he had repeatedly told me, “Money is tight, babe”?
He never so much as even sent me a card. I mailed him a first-edition J. D. Salinger for his birthday from Delhi. He sent me a picture of a flower the day after my birthday. I sent him a gardening set for Christmas, again from New Delhi. He sent me an ignorant note, “Merry X’mas! Or is it offensive to wish you since you are Hindi?”
I massaged my head with conditioner and thought clearly for a moment—I had to mail the gifts to an address in Baton Rouge because Jay always had an excuse. “Not NYC, hon. I like to go to the place my mom liked for me to visit over the holidays or my birthday.”
Wrapping my body in a towel, I stepped out of the shower. Maybe Jay doesn’t live in NYC at all. If he lied about his whereabouts, he could be lying about anything. I felt ants crawl all over my body.
A little while later, I checked my phone. It was 7:15 p.m. Shit, I muttered to my reflection in the mirror.
“Running a little late. Sorry. Fifteen extra minutes, please?” I texted Rohan.
“Are you trying to wiggle out of that dinner you owe me?” he wrote back.
“No, I swear.”
“Chill, Matron. Now that I know you are running late but still coming, it’s totally fine. I know greatness takes time.” He ended with a smiley.
I put my phone on the dresser and pulled out clothes, jewelry, and shoes from the closet in my room. I changed into a fitting, spaghetti strap blue dress slightly above the knees. I wore pink lipstick and pearls and left my hair loose. With a pink jacket, brown Christian Louboutin heels, and a clutch, I walked to the elevator around 7:42 p.m.
There he was, clad in a sports jacket and denim jeans, sitting on the sofa in the lobby of Naina’s building, furiously typing away.
“Hello, there.” I waved.
“You look like a million bucks, Matron.” He gave me a gentle hug.
I smiled at him. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, Brady.”
“Shall we, Madame?” He offered me his elbow. I took it.
Despite being a loyal NOLA boy, like a seasoned New Yorker, Rohan whistled and called for a cab. He gave the cabbie the address, but I didn’t pay attention.
I checked my phone. There was a message from Jay: “You must be out. Enjoy time with the family. Shimmies and hugs sent your way.”
“Boyfriend trouble?” Rohan tapped my shoulder.
“Please.” I rolled my eyes and hid my phone.
“All OK at home with Dad and Naina?”
“Yes, it is, Brady.”
“You seem distracted. What’s going on?”
“Sorry; I have some bloody crap on my mind. A glass of wine and I promise to be better company.”
Rohan pointed toward the entrance to a tiny bistro hidden in the corner. We were in uptown Manhattan on the west side. This little gem of a place, called Mom’s Recipes, had Turkish lanterns, Mardi Gras beads and Indian copper cooking utensils as part of the décor.
“Table for two.” He smiled at the female maître d’ who looked extremely young.
“Did you make a reservation, sir?”
“Yes, I did. It’s under Brady.”
“Like Tom Brady.” She fluttered her eyes. “Your table will be ready in five minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Brady.”
“It’s not Mrs. Brady. We are friends.” He grinned at the maître d’.
“Oh, in that case, I get off work at 11 p.m.” She bit her lower lip.
What a bimbette! I muttered to myself. I took off my jacket. “Gosh, it’s hot in here.”
Rohan stared at me. “Wow, you look fucking amazing.”
“Thank you.” My plan misfired. I was trying to be sarcastic about the sexual undertone in the chat between Rohan and the maître d’.
Rohan whispered into my ear. “Hah, I scored a date before you did, Matron. Shame on you.” I could feel his breath and grin on me. And that made me feel something I had never felt before.
I walked an inch closer. “The night has only just begun, Brady.”
Rohan looked at his shoes, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh.
As we sat at the table, I looked Rohan up and down. “I bet you’re one of those guys who has never heard ‘No’ from a woman before and dated gorgeous girls through school and college.”
“School? Pfft. I started in kindergarten.” He grinned.
“Paagal.” I arched an eyebrow.
Rohan leaned forward. “You like me!”
“Shush, I am finally beginning to find you borderline tolerable. Don’t push it.”
He leaned in. “We can work with that.”
Our server got us the menu. Rohan turned to him. “I had pre-ordered a few items before we got here. The last name is Brady. Could you bring those out first? Thank you.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“What did you do, Brady?”
“Nothi
ng. Just made sure the foods I like were in stock.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
There was a bottle of French pinot noir and good Delhi-style food—paneer and almond kebabs, seekh kebabs made out of chicken mince, butter chicken, naan—leavened Indian bread, saag, and a green salad inside of ten minutes of us sitting at the restaurant.
“This is such a nice gesture, Rohan.” I tried not to let words choke in my mouth. “Some of these items remind me of food at my mom’s, especially this saag dish made from mustard greens and spices. In Delhi winters, this is a staple at my parents.” Mumma, though not the best cook in the world, made the most delicious seekh kebab.
Rohan looked pleased. “Don’t get emotional. I brought you here so you could finally start to think of me as a good guy.”
“And that helps me how?”
“Not you, silly. Once you approve, I can show some Rohan-love to your friends and cousins.”
“Aaaah. Now I know your motives.” I ate a big spoonful of the kebabs. I felt famished and insatiable that evening.
Rohan noticed. “Easy, tiger. That kebab ain’t going anywhere.”
“Very funny. This isn’t an Indian restaurant. How did you get them to make these dishes?
“Mom’s Recipes has a cool concept. The owner is from back home. They have a fixed, international menu, but you can order ahead of time and ask them to cook homely dishes too.”
“Doesn’t matter what cuisine?”
“Nope, it doesn’t. They guarantee the taste of grandma’s cooking.”
“The food is mind-blowing.”
“I am glad you like it.” Rohan wiped his lips with a napkin.
He gave me undivided attention that evening. I didn’t think about Jay or Dev. Rohan had also ordered a traditional Indian chai made with spices and one of my favorite desserts: gulab jamuns. Naina referred to them as “heaven disguised as fried cottage cheese dipped in sugar syrup flavored with rose.”
Suddenly, my phone rang.
I looked at the screen. “Hey, Nainz, everything OK?” I said with food in my mouth.
Rohan frowned with worry. I wiped my mouth and put my hand on the receiver. “Sorry to be rude, but I’ll be a second.”
“Please, by all means.”
“Ahana, the photographer rescheduled our meeting to Saturday afternoon. Did you wanna hang?”
“I am out to dinner with Rohan.”
“I know. What are you guys doing after?”
“I am not sure.”
“Give the phone to him.”
I looked at Rohan.
“What?” He looked puzzled.
I covered the phone with my hand, again. “Naina wants to talk to you.”
“Sure,” he took the phone. “This is Rohan.”
The two chatted like long lost friends. I looked confused when Rohan snapped his finger. “Preach it, sister.” He laughed. “Nice talking to you too, Naina. See you guys in a few.” Rohan hung up.
“What just happened? Did Naina actually like someone, one of my friends, enough to make plans?”
“Yes, ma’am. We are meeting Naina and Josh at a club in Chelsea.”
“This late?”
“Don’t worry; we’ll get you a senior citizen drink.”
“Such a meanie.”
“What? You asked for it.”
“But, seriously, you are very lucky.”
“How so?” Rohan dropped his fork on his dinner plate.
“Naina has rarely liked anyone new in my life.” My mind went to Jay. I sighed and took a sip of water.
“Looks like you talked me up in front of her.” Rohan let out a grin.
“High hopes.”
“Always.” Rohan smiled.
While we were talking, the maître d’ stopped by. “May I help you with anything else?”
“I think we are good for now. Thank you.” Rohan wiped his mouth and set the napkin on the table.
She spoke in a husky tone, “Was everything satisfactory?”
She sounds desperate! I took a bite of the gulab jamuns and tapped my bowl.
Rohan stole a quick glance at me. “I am in extraordinary company tonight, so yes.” He looked at the maître d’. “Thanks for your fabulous service.”
The maître d’ walked away.
Before I could say anything, he looked at me. “Don’t gloat. I said all that so she’d leave.”
“Here I thought I was amazing.” I dabbed my lips with the napkin and smiled at him.
“Oh, you very much are. But tonight is about you picking up a dude, not me.”
I put my hands on his wrist. “I haven’t felt this happy in a long time. Thank you so much for everything.”
While we were chatting, the server brought the check. I tried to snatch the bill from Rohan’s hands, but he didn’t let me pay.
“But I lost the bet.”
“You are a guest. I insist.” Rohan ran his eyes over the total and gave his credit card to the server.
“But it’s not fair, yaar.”
“You can show me around Delhi when I visit.” Our eyes met, but I broke it off.
“Who knows when that’ll happen!” I took a big sip of my chai.
Rohan looked confused.
I put my cup down. “I’m sorry. I’m misdirecting my annoyance.”
Rohan held my right hand, pausing me in the way. “What’s on your mind, Matron?”
“I know I’m an idealist. But I have a hard time believing that a friend could ever be jealous of their friend.”
“Where is this coming from?”
I liked how Rohan immediately didn’t assume I was referring to him the way Jay always did.
I sighed loudly. “I’ve told you about my friend Jay, right? He wrote to me today and said that he thinks I’m very lucky and blessed.”
Rohan stayed quiet while I ran through the quick version of the past year.
“It hurts because he knows everything I have been through with Mumma. Nothing comes easily to me.”
I couldn’t read Rohan’s face. It frustrated me. I wanted him to say something. Take my side. Bash Jay. But that wasn’t Rohan.
Rohan wiped his hands in the napkin. “I am between a rock and a hard place. You tell me; you want my suggestion, or do you want me to hear you out?”
“Both.”
Rohan took a deep breath.
I had no idea where our conversation was headed.
“You expect people to be a certain way and attach a mental note to their abilities.”
“That’s not true.” I sunk into my chair with the cup of chai in my hand.
“You take things too personally.” Rohan lowered his head.
I felt slightly attacked. “What do you mean?”
“Take your friend who has been bothering you. Whatever he does, you think he’s personally attacking you.” He put his cup on the table. “Are you two a thing?” His face changed expressions.
“God, Rohan. No! Can you ever think a man and a woman can just be friends?” I said in my most annoyed voice.
“For the most part, no. Because one of them eventually falls in love and the friendship gets messed up. But there are always exceptions.”
“Typical American.”
Rohan’s face settled into a grave expression. “See, this is what I mean. Stop personalizing everything.”
I was about to respond, but the server brought back Rohan’s credit card and the customer copy of the receipt. He looked up. “I am not talking about you and Jay. I am making a universal statement based on my observations.”
“Well, your observations are inaccurate. I have no feelings for Jay.”
“Then why does he get under your skin?”
“It’s fine. I can manage this on my own.”
“I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s going on.”
I had tears in my eyes. I blurted out, “I am in therapy.
“Yeah, OK, so?” He signed the receipt. “I see one sometimes, too, along w
ith everyone else in New York.”
“When Mumma died, I couldn’t deal with it. My marriage had ended not too long before. I reached a place I never thought existed. I joined an online therapy group and that’s where I met Jay.” Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Rohan offered me his handkerchief. “Where is the problem?”
“Jay gets upset when I’m happy. Like he wants me to stay depressed, you know? Isn’t that what we want for someone we call a friend?”
“A word of advice: a true friend might sometimes get jealous, but they will always be happy for you.”
“You don’t think I’m being judgmental in thinking Jay doesn’t always have the best thoughts?”
“You have strong instincts. If they tell you something, believe them.”
I scratched the tip of my nose.
Rohan spoke with a straight face. “Maybe Jay likes you?”
“No, ya, Rohan. For the longest time, I thought he was gay. That’s why I got so comfortable opening up to him. He’s straight, but there is nothing going on between us. We chat about our moms.” I stopped for a second and ran my fingers through my hair. “We used to discuss our mothers, food, books, gardening, and yoga. But lately, it’s gotten a little bit weird.”
“Have you tried talking to him?”
“We have only ever chatted over the message board or email. He says he’s too depressed to talk over the phone.”
“You have never spoken with him?” Rohan scratched his forehead with his right hand. “How long have you known him?”
“Pretty much as long as I’ve known you.” It felt cathartic talking to Rohan. Naina was so biased against Jay that I no longer wanted to talk to her about my suspicions about him.
“Are you for real?” Rohan exhaled loudly. “Where does your friend Jay live? What’s his full name, again?”
“Jay Dubois. He shuttles between NYC and Baton Rouge.”
Rohan typed something on his phone and then looked up at me. “When will you guys hang out?”
“It’s not important for him that we meet in person.” I didn’t look Rohan in the eye.
“And you are OK with whatever terms Jay chooses.” Rohan poked his tongue into his right cheek.
I got defensive and pushed the chai away. “Jay and I are each other’s support structure. That’s what part of our online therapy is about. I mean, who takes the time these days?”
Louisiana Catch Page 16
