Destination Wedding
Page 30
“She doesn’t like diamonds. Who the fuck are you?” Tom said.
Marianne looked over at Tina with panic in her eyes. Tina turned to everyone standing around Marianne and Tom kneeling in the dust and said, “We should all give them some privacy. Let’s go, let’s go.”
“Not before Marianne says yes!” Mr. Das shouted, his head still bleeding into Radha’s dupatta.
“Uncle, you need to go to the doctor,” Marianne said, looking up at Mr. Das.
“Karan, can you please get my father to the doctor?” Tina asked, nudging Karan away. “Go. Don’t get in the way of this. You barely even know her.”
“Fine,” Karan said. “But he’s way too skinny. Uncle, let’s go. The club doctor should be able to see you now.”
“Marianne, what’s the answer?” Mr. Das asked again.
Marianne looked over at Mr. Das and said, “It’s a yes, Uncle.”
As everyone clapped, Bubbles Trivedi arrived as if out of thin air, wearing a cream-colored sari with large red roses all over it and a red velvet blouse. A red chrysanthemum was pinned to her hair.
“Did I hear a proposal?” Bubbles asked. She rushed over to Marianne and Tom as they were standing up, Tom placing the ring on Marianne’s finger. “Nice to meet you, young man. Bubbles Trivedi, wedding planner and television star. Tina, our first subjects!”
“They aren’t even Indian,” Tina said.
“Wedding planner?” Tom said. “I don’t want a big wedding with some planner. Marianne, can we just do a city hall thing?”
“I could wear a white pantsuit and a small veil,” Marianne said. “Maybe with blue suede pumps. And the whole feel can be reluctant-wedding chic. You know, like it matters so little but we just decided to do it anyway because why not? That kind of vibe.”
“No, no, that won’t work at all,” Bubbles said. She looked around and added, “Never mind. You two do your city hall thing. Tina, I think our season should start off with an Indian wedding on Lake Como. Come, walk with me.”
Bubbles and Tina walked back toward Tina’s cottage. David slipped his hand into Radha’s and said, “Should we go have a coffee?”
Radha nodded.
“I don’t think I want to get married again, David,” she said.
“Good, neither do I,” David said. “I’ve never been the marrying kind.”
“The fact that we both said that makes me want to marry you,” Radha said. “I say we skip the wedding and do a honeymoon anyway.”
“Lisbon,” David said. “I’ve been wanting to go to Lisbon.”
“I have many Lisbon tips,” Mrs. Sethi said behind them. She wasn’t sure where to go while she waited for Mr. Das to get back from the doctor.
SATURDAY NIGHT—THE FINAL NIGHT—THE WEDDING AND THE RECEPTION:
Colebrookes: Shefali Now Wishes She Hadn’t Planned the Two for the Same Night; She Feels Like She’s Missing Out on Fun
NONO PEERED THROUGH HER OPERA glasses and said, “That isn’t Zara and Zarina. Bubbles! Who is that onstage?”
It was Rajesh, wearing a heavy green lehnga and a short gold blouse, a green dupatta draped over his wig, big chandelier earrings, a maang tikka in the part of his wig, his makeup applied expertly, swaying his hips in time to the drumbeat of the latest Bollywood song. Next to him was his friend Vaibhav, a newer performer, Rajesh’s mentee in the drag scene, wearing the inverse of his outfit—a gold lehnga and a green blouse with a gold dupatta over his head. Behind them was a row of eight backup dancers wearing short gold-and-green dresses. A large disco ball rotated above them, making everything sparkle. Behind them was a wall of colorful flowers. The lights were flashing across their faces, and Bubbles hoped nobody would catch on that these were impersonators.
She came running over and grabbed Nono’s glasses and said, “Of course it is. Stars look different in person is all. Come, come, take a look at all the orchids we got in for today. Your son says you shouldn’t stay standing for long stretches. It probably adds to your confusion.”
She pulled Nono in a different direction while whispering into her earpiece, “More backlight onstage, more backlight onstage! I told Rajesh not to find his light but that’s of course exactly what he keeps doing.”
She walked past David and Radha standing near the bar, waiting to be served their drinks. She paused briefly to hand them her business cards again.
“A spare, just in case,” Bubbles said.
“Don’t bother,” David said handing back the card. “We’re not the marrying type.”
He reached down and grabbed Radha’s hand. She intertwined her fingers through his and held tight.
“That’s what everyone says,” Bubbles said.
“But we know,” Radha said.
Bubbles grabbed her cards back and said, “Well, in that case you don’t need these. They cost twenty rupees per card to get printed with the glitter.”
Radha looked down at her fingers, now covered with fine gold glitter.
“We could do a non-wedding celebration,” David said.
“That’s the same as a wedding,” Mr. Das approached and interrupted. “Though you get to act superior as if you’ve come up with some brilliant, anti-establishment idea.”
There was a Band-Aid above his eye. He pointed to it and said, “No concussion but three stitches.”
“Scars look good,” David said.
Mr. Das nodded and said, “A Manhattan, please. Make it strong.”
He pointed to the Band-Aid again and added, “We’ve had a rough day.”
The bartender—the same South African one who was atop the horse the first night—was not actually a bartender. He was a gardener from Johannesburg and had been spending the last hour drinking whiskey himself and had absolutely no idea how to make a Manhattan. The first night, he had hooked up with Aarti, Shefali’s friend who had gone to Pratt, and was now drunk enough to look for her again. He wouldn’t make his ten thousand rupees if he vanished but he had probably already drunk that amount in free liquor and he was heading back to Johannesburg next week and didn’t really need much more money. He poured Mr. Das a whiskey with a splash of soda and two spoons of Campari and passed it over and ducked out from behind the bar to find Aarti.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Bubbles shouted. “Where do you think you’re going? You—Jeff, David, Rocco, damn it, what is your name? Where do you think you’re going? You’re working until midnight.”
Bubbles rushed after him, shouting into her earpiece, “One bartender has disappeared. Send a replacement. Send a replacement immediately. And send one of the guards to come and stand behind the bar and make sure no more of these hippies gets drunk; it’s like managing children.”
“You have an assistant?” Tina asked, running into Bubbles.
“It’s that handsome fellow, Sid. I told him I’d pay for his flight back instead of him wasting a day and a night on a train in exchange for him helping me tonight,” Bubbles said.
“Sid is here? I’m not ready to see him yet,” Tina said, looking quickly behind her. She saw couples standing in front of a wall made of flowers with a metal S for Shefali and P for Pavan entwined in gold lettering within a gold circle.
“This is like an audition for him. Do you think I should kiss him? Maybe after one wedding, while we’re drinking some leftover wine and discussing how everything went. Would that be a good storyline? I’d be willing to,” Bubbles said with a wink.
“No,” Tina said.
Across the lawn, Sid was ignoring his earpiece so he could enjoy the mutton biryani in peace for ten minutes before returning to help Bubbles.
Standing near the biryani counter next to him, Aarti, Shefali’s friend said, “That’s not really Zara and Zarina, is it? Isn’t Zara the taller one in real life?”
She squinted toward the stage. “I’m not a hundred percent sure but it does no
t look like them.”
Oops, Sid thought. He needed this wedding to go well so Bubbles would get the show and he would become a star.
“Of course it’s them. All the stars look different in real life. I live in Bombay and I once saw Kareena Kapoor and let me tell you, she has two nannies for that one baby,” Sid said.
Aarti looked over at him suspiciously and said, “What does that have to do with how she looks in real life?”
“That man looks like he wants your attention,” Sid said, pointing behind her.
The South African bartender was stumbling toward Aarti.
“No, I cannot repeat that mistake,” Aarti said as she rushed off in the other direction.
Bubbles came charging behind the South African man.
“Out, out,” she shouted at him. “It’s bad enough you’re drunk but you’re not going to stumble around ruining this wedding. Sid, where have you been? Is your earpiece off?”
Sid shoveled the last spoonful of biryani into his mouth, put his plate down, grabbed the bartender by the arm, and said to Bubbles, “I will escort him out. Meanwhile, you need to either change the lighting or get those men off the stage—people are starting to catch on that it isn’t Zara and Zarina up there.”
“I’m down a bartender,” Bubbles said. “There’s a line forming.”
“I can do it.” Rocco had heard her as he was entering the lawns. “I used to bartend in Adelaide. I’m a little rusty but I can google whatever I don’t know.”
Bubbles grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him square on the lips and said, “Go, go! Bar number six—it’s all yours. You’re a savior. I’ll set aside two iPads for you if you want. And I’ll give you and Tina a discount when you’re ready. But don’t wait too long—despite what they say, even the male biological clock has a deadline. Now, go! Make everyone’s drinks extra strong. I need to get Zara and Zarina off the premises before anyone catches on.”
Bubbles rushed to the stage while shouting into her earpiece, “Dim the lights, dim the lights. Start lowering the volume on the music.”
Tina saw her rush past and looked behind her for Sid. She saw him entering the main lawn area, looking handsome in black pants and a black T-shirt. Tina thought about disappearing into the crowd, maybe even going back to her cottage and reading a book, nobody would notice. But no, she decided, she was no sexual harasser. She walked toward Sid and said, “This is a good idea, this job.”
“Do you think the show will happen?” Sid asked.
“Yes,” Tina said. “But, listen, I don’t want to get your hopes up again and I certainly don’t want you to think you have to kiss me. But yes, I’m hopeful about this show.”
“Show or no show, I think I want to work for Bubbles anyway,” Sid said. “It’s more fun than being a personal trainer to people who have no interest in working out. I spend half the shifts sitting around and watching my clients drinking coconut water and having phone conversations. And my most regular client, Mr. Singh, insists on exercising in only a pair of underwear and his turban.”
Tina wondered if Sid would have kissed her back if the circumstances were different, if there had never been any mention of a show in the first place. But then she decided her ego didn’t need to hear the answer to that because she already knew the answer to that.
“I’m going to go get a drink,” Tina said.
“Bubbles says I’m not allowed to drink until the guests leave,” Sid said.
“I wasn’t inviting you to get one with me,” Tina said.
“I have to be careful with you now, Tina ma’am,” Sid said with a smile.
Tina smiled also and said, “Rachel thinks this idea has legs. It’s looking good so far but as we both know, it’s never final until it’s on-air.”
“Can I confess something?” Sid asked. “I thought about kissing you the very first day I walked in to audition for you and you shouted at someone that you had said no sugar in your coffee.”
Tina laughed.
“I remember that. And then I didn’t drink the coffee because I was certain they had spat in it.”
“They didn’t spit in it but they did make it with unfiltered water to get you back,” Sid said with a laugh.
“That was a stressful audition,” Tina said. “I think I knew even then that the show was falling apart.”
Sid nodded. He looked straight at Tina.
“Tina. America and this,” he said and gestured around the lawn. “They’re similar in many ways. This and my life…more different than cats and dogs. My home floods every monsoon because the city repaved the lane outside and now it comes up higher than the entrance to our door so all the water runs in. You live here, I live there. That’s how the world is divided.”
“I guess that is more how it’s split these days,” Tina said. “Borders of money, not countries.”
Sid shrugged his shoulders.
“For some of us it’s always been split like that,” he said.
“I hope this show happens, Sid. I’m going to really try. I promise.”
“I know,” Sid said. “I know this matters to you as much as it matters to me.”
Tina walked away toward her father, who she saw standing across the lawn fiddling with his watch.
“I have typical Indian-man wrists,” Mr. Das said to his daughter. He held up both his hands and twisted his wrists. “So thin, nothing fits properly.”
He shook his head.
“That’s why I’m not sure it’s worth buying an Apple Watch,” he continued. “But it’s nice to want to spend money on material goods sometimes, isn’t it? It’s so attainable. For a while there, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to buy.”
“Do you want a drink?” Tina asked.
They approached the bar and saw Rocco behind it. The bar was lit from below and small vases with one flower each lined the edge.
“What are you doing back there?” Tina asked. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll take a vodka martini, please.”
“Coming right up. And for you, Uncle?” he asked.
“Uncle. I like that,” Mr. Das said. “I’m fine. This isn’t a Manhattan but I’m loving whatever it is.”
Mr. Das looked down at his phone and added, “Mrs. Sethi has just arrived. I better go get her from the gate. You two enjoy yourselves.”
Aarti came over to the bar and said, “A large vodka tonic, please. Fast.”
She looked over her shoulder for the South African man but couldn’t see him anywhere, so she took her drink and went back into the crowd. Two men approached the bar and rapped on it with their knuckles and one said, “Two whiskeys, make it quick.”
“Do you need some help back there?” Tina asked.
“I’d like that,” Rocco said.
Tina joined him behind the bar and poured the whiskeys for the impatient men, then two glasses of prosecco for two slim women, one fresh lime soda for an old lady. Then Nono pushed through the others waiting at the bar and said, “A Campari soda with a splash of orange juice for me. And a whiskey shot while I wait. If my son is going to go around telling everyone I have dementia, I may as well at least be drunk.”
“Hi, Nono,” Tina said. “Are you having a nice evening?”
Nono surveyed the grounds with her opera glasses and said, “You know what? It’s lovely. And I like Bubbles’s idea of having friends bartend. I was skeptical about her wedding planning skills but she has my stamp of approval. Not a marigold in sight.”
Nono’s driver stood two feet behind her and nodded.
“Get him an Old Monk and Coke. He pretends he doesn’t drink but I can smell it on him. Fortunately, he drives even better after a drink.”
Nono smiled at Tina and then smiled at Rocco and then back again at Tina and said, “Enjoy your evening, you two. And enjoy everything the world has to offer.”
A cover band sang “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” onstage, and small lights twinkled in the trees above them, the pollution creating a gentle haze.
Rocco popped the cork open, angling it into the bushes in front of them. He passed the bottle, liquid fizzing over, to Tina, who took a large sip and passed it back to him. He held the bottle up and said, “To us.”
And he leaned forward and kissed Tina who fell back onto a case of beer. But she didn’t care. She reached her arms around Rocco’s shoulders and kissed him back.
“I googled you too,” she said when they separated. “And I looked for you on social media.”
Rocco looked down at her and smiled and said, “I didn’t call you, it’s true, but I was briefly in Williamsburg. I was hoping I’d run into you so we could have done this sooner.”
“What?”
Tina sat up and pulled her sari pallu straight. Rocco was on his knees in front of her.
“I didn’t come just to look for you. An advert I was working on was shooting in Queens so I kind of had an excuse. I rented an apartment in Williamsburg.”
“When?” Tina said.
“In April.”
“I was there,” Tina said.
“I know. You’re pretty active on social media so I went to all the places you posted from, like a trail of crumbs. But I never saw you. And in one of the pictures there were two wineglasses and an empty tray of oysters so I gave up. I was only there for a week anyway.”
The song changed to a modern version of “Khoya Khoya Chand,” and a large paper lantern was released into the sky above them to resemble the lost moon. Tina looked up at it floating into the darkness.
“Do you think I could live here?” Tina asked at the same time that her father asked Mrs. Sethi the same question near the main gate of the lawns.