Louisiana Catch

by Sweta Srivastava Vikram

  Rohan shook his head. “Your cousin Naina, who you said got back into town today, is taking you out to a club because she wants you to have a good time. I am in NYC so we get to know each other as friends.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….” I tugged at his arm.

  “Ahana,” Rohan interrupted me in a firm voice. “Everyone is busy. We make time for the people we care about.”

  “I know,” I said with a little embarrassment.

  “I don’t know Jay Dubois. I understand he fulfills a certain side to you. All that is great. But you feeling obligated to take care of him is ridiculous.” Rohan got up from his chair and slipped his jacket on.

  “Uh-huh.” What more could I say? As I buttoned my coat, I understood that Rohan was just being a friend. He wasn’t making a martyr out of me.

  I walked up to him on the sidewalk as we prepared to go to the club. “Rohan, you care about me?”

  He looked at me intensely. “Sometimes, you are so oblivious to everything.”

  “Like what?”

  He walked a few inches closer to me and stared into my eyes. “Everything can’t be spelled out, Ahana.”

  His deep blue piercing eyes had mischief in them, but they also made me feel safe. I looked at him. “Thank you for spending time with me and showing me around the city. It means a lot to me, yaar.”

  Ten minutes later, Naina and Josh emerged out of the subway, holding hands. The two of them had something I never did with Dev—perhaps, most people searched their whole lives only never to find it. Naina kissed me on the cheek. “Damn, girl! Looking smokin’ hot.”

  I could feel my face flush; Rohan smiled.

  Naina looked at Rohan. “I am so sorry. The subway broke down and there was no signal—couldn’t call you guys.”

  “Not a problem. New York subways are unpredictable.”

  “Hey, man, they are better than public transport in other cities.” Josh spoke in a heavy Italian accent in defense of the Big Apple. “By the way, I’m Josh Rossi.” He extended his hand to Rohan. Josh, at 6’ 6”, with a crew cut and brutish good looks, believed in firm handshakes and keeping relatively consistent eye contact while communicating. He looked away only when the other person was thinking.

  “Nice to meet you, Josh. I’m Rohan Brady. I work with Ahana.” The men shook hands.

  “You are the Southerner to whom Ahana lost the running bet?” Naina gave Rohan a gentle hug. “I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

  “And I have been wanting to meet you.” Rohan smiled at Naina.

  “You’re from Louisiana, Ahana tells me.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Nawlins.”

  “I’m a NOLA girl myself. Josh here is a Yankee policeman who refuses to move down South and learn what life means.” Naina covered her mouth with a gasp and said “Yankee” with a drawl. Dramatic flair was a part of Naina’s personality.

  I hugged Josh. “Now there are two mental people from New Orleans adding drama to this evening.”

  “I heard that,” Naina growled.

  Josh said, “Unless you guys want to reenact the Civil War on the streets of New York, I suggest we move our conversation inside.”

  “Hold on; do you have something against us Southerners?” Naina hit Josh with her multi-colored, beaded clutch.

  “I’m on Josh’s side.” I high-fived Josh. He never crossed his arms on his chest or slouched, so I had to jump to reach his hand.

  “Is that so, Matron?” Rohan moved up closer. He was no longer acting distant.

  “Don’t mind my sister. She’s a New Delhi snob,” Naina said to Rohan.

  We all walked toward the club entrance. Our names were on the list. One of Naina’s colleagues’ husbands worked there.

  Surprisingly, the club was not loud. One section was the bar and dance floor. Several smaller sections for small groups were divided off by chiffon curtains. I guess I must have looked surprised when Naina turned to me. “What? You didn’t think I’d bring you to a loud place filled with harassers?”

  “When you said club, I thought….”

  “See, she doesn’t even trust her sister.” Naina looked at Rohan and pointed at me.

  The two had ganged up against me. It was both endearing and annoying.

  “How is New York treating you, Ahana?” Josh asked as we went through the process of checking in our coats. I’d first met Josh seven years ago in NOLA, and I had immediately liked his sincerity. He was the only guy I knew who was as involved in the wedding planning as his fiancée. Josh was level-headed, and it occurred to me that I could probably discuss my suspicions about Jay with him. But I didn’t want to talk about Jay in front of Naina because she would get judgmental.

  “Not bad. But I am ready to go back home to Delhi after the conference. I miss my dog, and Dad said he wants me back.” I spoke loudly so Rohan could hear me. I saw his face drop. What did he expect?

  “Naina and I will visit you once she knows how many more saris she needs after the wedding.” Josh put his arms around Naina’s shoulders.

  “I am going to be a new bride once, Josh. And I need at least as many saris as my age.”

  “What logic is that?” Both Josh and I spoke at the same time.

  “Am I wrong, Rohan?” Naina asked.

  “A beautiful lady is never wrong.” He smiled. “What can I get you guys to drink?”

  “I’ll come with you, man,” Josh said.

  “I’ll have a Bourbon. Neat.” Naina put her arms around Josh’s neck and pulled him toward her. She gave him a short kiss on the lips. The two belonged together.

  I looked away, but not before stealing a glance at Rohan. I’d thought he would roll his eyes and make faces at romantic gestures. But he looked mellow.

  “Bourbon for Naina. French pinot noir for you, Matron?”

  “Nope, a spicy vodka martini, please.” I didn’t want Rohan to think he knew me.

  Rohan gave me a look of surprise before he and Josh walked toward the bar.

  Naina settled into the comfy sofa and took off her shoes. “Oooh, you’re having a crush on Rohan right now!”

  “I am not! We’re just friends!” I crossed my legs.

  “Liar! I can tell you like him.”

  I told Naina about the dinner but not the conversations with Rohan about Jay.

  “Do you know how difficult it is to get a table at Mom’s Recipes, Ahana? Three months minimum. How did he pull that off?”

  “I don’t know. But he had arranged authentic Delhi food. Everything was extraordinary.”

  “Rohan is a good guy. His intentions seem genuine and important. He pays attention to your needs—the dinner tonight he organized for you, that’s sincere. He’s here hanging out with Josh and me on a Friday night when, if he wanted, he could have any choice of women. He’s a fucking hottie!” Naina looked around to make sure Rohan and Josh weren’t around.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. He’s a great person; just not someone I want to date.”

  “All I’m saying is, keep an open mind.” She stretched her arms over her head. “What news of fuck face?”

  “His mood swings baffle me.” I was cautious with how much I shared.

  “I know that look. What did he say, Ahana?”

  “A lot of things.” I stared at Naina’s bright pink stilettos.

  Naina pointed at my phone, “Show me.” When I didn’t, she snatched it from my hands and unlocked it. She read Jay’s messages in silence. I saw her face change color as she scrolled up and down the screen.

  Naina clenched her teeth. “Ahana, Jay is a fucking psychopath. He’s manipulating you. He is unwilling to see his own shortcomings and uses everything in his power to avoid being held accountable for them. He guilt trips you, knowing fully well how you’ll respond.”

  “I agree there is something creepy and exhausting about Jay, but I can’t walk away from a friend when he needs me.”

  “What friend? A friend is someone who shows up. And that person in your life righ
t now is Rohan.” Naina pointed in the direction of the bar where the two men were. “Jay only knows how to take from you.”

  I brought my eyebrows together.

  “You aren’t a part of Alcoholic Anonymous, Ahana. You aren’t his fucking sponsor.”

  Naina raised her voice. “That dipshit has never ever sent you so much as a thank you card. Jay is playing you and you don’t wanna see it!”

  Naina got up from the table after handing my mobile to me.

  “Where are you going?”

  “You are being exceptionally stupid right now, and I can’t see you hurt yourself. I’m going to smoke a cigarette.”

  “Naina….” I wanted to put my head on the table and rest.

  Before Naina could leave, Josh and Rohan returned with our drinks.

  “Hey, babe. Is everything all right?” Josh handed Naina her bourbon.

  “Just dandy.” Naina sat with a loud thud. “Catching up on business at Ahana’s House of Charity.”

  I closed my eyes. Josh was about to say something, but I cut him off. “What is that you’re drinking?”

  “It’s a Sazerac,” Josh replied.

  Naina’s eyes popped. “They make Sazeracs here?”

  “No, they don’t. Rohan told the bartender how to make it. Like a boss!” Josh folded his palms together and moved like a wave, as if honoring Rohan.

  “You mind if I steal a sip?” Naina had still not buttoned up her coat.

  “Honey, you don’t have to ask,” Josh replied. He looked at Naina so dotingly. I had never once seen him look at another woman. He was one of those guys: one woman, one life, one love, and one marriage.

  “Rohan, this is good shit! I’m so impressed you got the bartender to make a Sazerac.”

  “I got one for myself too. I’ll trade it for your bourbon,” Rohan suggested.

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s just a drink.” He smiled.

  “I’ll take me a Sazerac, please.” Naina happily switched her drink with Rohan’s.

  “Are you not going out for a smoke?” I asked.

  “Is it a problem if I sit here?” Naina glared at me.

  “Naina….” I ate three olives from my martini and gulped my drink. It was delicious but slightly bitter and spicy. But I liked it. It tasted better than Naina’s words.

  Naina took another sip of her drink and turned to Rohan. “We’re throwing a party next week for our engagement in NOLA. Do you want to come, Rohan?”

  I stared at Naina with disbelief.

  “Sure; I’d love to! If it’s all right with Josh too,” Rohan replied.

  “Awesome!” Josh chimed in. “JetBlue still has tickets available, so you might wanna get on it, bro.”

  “Thanks, man!” Rohan pulled out his phone and went to the JetBlue website. “And there’ll be a tea bar for the Matron, right?” Rohan asked Naina jokingly.

  Naina brought her palms together and placed them between her eyebrows. “And a fucking charity corner too where people will be given ten minutes per person to share their problem with Ahana Devi.” Naina, when angry, could be mean.

  I felt alone in that crowd. I felt a part of nothing. All I wanted from Naina was a little empathy, but what I got was harsh criticism and judgment. It felt like I didn’t matter to anyone. The more I cared, the more it all hurt. I felt like a prisoner in my own body. I wanted to go away from these familiar faces and memories.

  I picked up my embroidered clutch and walked heavy-legged toward the bar without saying a word to anyone.

  The line was long. In Delhi, sons of politicians or goons never waited their turns at any clubs or pubs. If you tried questioning them for breaking rules, you’d hear one common threat: “Do you know who my father is?” But in New York, some people looked as if they were born to stand in a line.

  With bodies rubbing against my neighbors, I tried to cover my chest by folding my arms across them—the agony of being big-breasted.

  “Miss, can I buy you a drink?” A blonde guy, who looked like he was in his mid-thirties, asked.

  “Who me?”

  “Of course. I’m talking to the prettiest girl in the club.”

  It was a tacky pickup line. And I almost said no. But I turned around to see Rohan standing at the bar, looking straight at me. What the hell is he doing here? I was tired of being the strict Matron. I was fed up with people thinking I was one-dimensional. I was feeling humiliated by having Naina reinforce the image of me as a weak, matronly person, so I decided to flirt a little.

  “Hi, I’m Ahana.” I hiccupped. “Sorry.”

  “Beautiful name, just like you.” He extended his hand. “Mike.”

  “Thank you.” I tucked my hair behind my right ear. My balance felt a bit weakened.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Umm, India.” I felt mentally confused.

  “Indian girls and their accent. Something you can never have enough of.”

  “Hahaha.” I threw my head back and my walk staggered a little. I caught Rohan staring at me and making a so-so gesture behind Mike’s back. I ignored him.

  “What can I get you to drink?”

  My gut said not to accept the drink, but I decided to anyway. “I’ll have a dirty martini,” I whispered into Mike’s ear. My lowered inhibitions surprised me.

  “Good taste and good looks. Hard to come by,” he whispered back and winked at me. His index fingers pointed at me like they were a pistol and he was firing at me.

  Just as soon as Mike used his elbows to break through the line and reach the front of the bar, Rohan showed up behind me. “Lose the guy. He’s a creep.”

  I turned around and stared directly into Rohan’s face. My speech was slurry. “And this is coming from a guy who had no problems flirting with a young server at the restaurant?”

  Before Rohan could say anything, Mike showed up with the drinks. “All cool?”

  “Oh, yeah. My colleague was just leaving.”

  Rohan walked away. I sipped on the martini. It was potent. Something felt light in my head. My steps faltered further; my breathing slowed.

  “Don’t you worry; I’m here.” Mike held me by my waist. I tried to be OK with it.

  The music blared. I hated dancing. My body didn’t know rhythm, and I kept losing my balance. But that night, I did the steps others were doing in the club. After a while, women turned their backs toward their dance partners on the dance floor. With the beats, first the women gyrated their hips and went low, closer to the floor. And then it was the men. That was my out. I started to leave, but Mike pulled me closer to himself. I shrugged. He leaned in close and touched my hair. I pushed him away, but he got progressively grosser. He moved closer, so close that I could feel the bulge in his pants. Dev, at a friend’s farmhouse in the outskirts of Delhi, had done the exact thing to me on the dance floor. He was drunk and literally dragged me to one of the bedrooms. I was on my stomach; he was on top of me being all aggressive. Suddenly, I realized he had passed out—with his man parts in my buttocks. Because he was drunk, he was a dead weight and I couldn’t get him off or out of me. I had to lie there, crying, waiting for him to go flaccid. Feeling Mike so close to me, I couldn’t stop the flashbacks. I tasted anger and vomit in my mouth. I tried to free myself from Mike and was about to elbow him in his stomach, when Rohan, in less than a minute, came to separate me from Mike.

  “You again?” Mike moved his hands from my body.

  “A boyfriend won’t let his angry girlfriend make a mistake, now will he, bro?”

  “Dude, I had no idea!” Mike put his hands up in the air and walked away.

  Even in my slightly intoxicated state, I remembered Naina’s words. “Southern men will always protect you. They won’t punch a guy for you, but they will use charm and intelligence to make sure you’re always safe.”

  Music. Booze. People. Hungry bodies. Rohan and I stood on the dance floor, staring at each other.

  “Are you all right?” Rohan looked concerned.

&
nbsp; I didn’t say a word.

  “Let’s go, Ahana.” Rohan held my right wrist.

  “No, I’m not going anywhere.” I released my hand from Rohan’s grip.

  “If you don’t leave, I’ll carry you out.” Rohan pulled me closer.

  “You’re the reason I’m here.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re the one who said I couldn’t pick up a guy. I picked a guy and danced with him.” I was two inches away from Rohan’s face.

  “Fine. I get it. You win.” Rohan shook his head.

  “It’s not about winning, Rohan. I don’t like any of this stuff…a stranger touching me or nonsensical drinking. I wasn’t brought up like this. To binge date or sleep around or have a random man touch me.”

  “Then why are you doing something that clearly makes you so uncomfortable?” He held me closer.

  “Where do you get off asking me these questions when you insisted I couldn’t find a date? I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m stupid and incapable.”

  “I was teasing you.” Rohan spoke loudly so I could hear him.

  “Well, it wasn’t funny!” I shouted.

  “I’m sorry.” Rohan spoke gently.

  Tears started to roll down my eyes. I couldn’t control them. A few minutes later, Naina and Josh showed up. Josh intervened without alarming me. As a cop, he had his professional crowd-control face on and took me home.

  We entered Naina’s building; I spoke softly. “Sorry I made a scene.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.” Josh pressed the elevator button. He had a key to Naina’s apartment. He opened the door and went directly into the kitchen and emerged with a glass of water. He pulled out a few tissues from the Kleenex box next to the side table and handed them both to me.

  “Thanks!” I swallowed.

  “I know Naina loves you more than she loves me.” Josh could say the truth and feel so easy around it.

  I sniffled and stared at my dress. My head was bent—my chin touched my throat, subconsciously blocking my throat chakra.

  Josh sat down next to me. “But sometimes you have to let people who love you know what’s acceptable and what’s not.”

  I stared at Josh.

  “To me, Naina is the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. Rohan, from what Naina tells me, has been a good friend. Their intentions seem to be in the right place.”