Radha & Jai's Recipe for Romance

by Nisha Sharma

  “I used to love Maggi when I was a kid. Mom would make the noodles in the broth, though, not with stir-fry. Did your mom make yours for you?”

  “My mom only heats food; she doesn’t cook it. I made this myself.”

  “Oh yeah? Do you like to cook?”

  Radha laughed. “Oh, Jai. If you only knew the can of worms you’re about to open.”

  “I don’t mind worms. Tell me more, new girl.”

  “I feel like you know enough about me.”

  “And I doubt I’d ever feel like I know enough about you.” His smile had Radha blushing again. Was that flirting? She wasn’t an expert, but she was pretty sure he’d just flirted with her.

  “Why don’t you tell me when you started dancing,” she said. “Then maybe I’ll tell you about how I learned to make Maggi noodles.”

  “I was about ten.” His smile slipped a little as he folded creases in his napkin. “Dancing was a coping mechanism for me. My father had invested in a convenience store that year. He was working long hours, and after he closed the store one night, he was hit by a car on his walk home. Someone saw him and called 911. Unfortunately, he had traumatic brain and spinal-cord injuries.”

  “Oh my God, Jai.”

  “Yeah, it was bad.” Jai spoke as if he were reading her the news. “He was in the ICU when another patient was admitted that same night. A doctor. His stroke was bad enough that he was hospitalized for as long as my father; then they ended up in rehab on the same schedule. Nana Veeru’s daughter is Director Muza.”

  Radha’s jaw dropped along with her fork. “You met the director in a hospital?”

  Jai smiled again. “I did. And while we waited, she taught me how to dance so I could channel my nervous, angry energy. I think it helped the director feel better too. We just…clicked. I mean, she clicked with my entire family, really, but me first. Then I started taking classes with her at the local rec center. When I turned fourteen, I aced the entrance exam here, which meant a full ride for dual-track science and dance.”

  “Dual-track?” Intelligence instantly made him so much more intimidating. Sure, she could dance, but school had always been really hard for her.

  Jai didn’t seem to notice her shock. He scooped up some of his biryani. “I like to dance, but I’m obsessed with biology. I’m the kid who not only wants to know how a person can get a dance injury but also wants to learn how to fix it.”

  “Is that what you’re going to study in college? I can sort of see you in sports medicine.”

  The smile on his face faded, and he busied himself with his food. “I’m actually not going to college.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “I can’t afford it. At least not right away. My brothers need me to start working full-time at the store. My family is a team. Even though my dad started the store, we all work together.”

  She wanted to reach out, to touch his arm and tell him that he looked so sad, but she didn’t really know him, and the last thing she wanted to do was offend the first person who’d treated her with respect at her new school. “I…well, I’m privileged. But my mother says the only way that I’ll get to go to college is if I take out student loans or if I ‘put in the effort’ and do my best in the dance track in school. I doubt that anything I do will be enough to make her happy. At least you have family, right?”

  “Yeah. I always have family.” Jai forked some noodles from her tiffin. She watched in fascination as he took a bite of her food, not minding the smell or the fact that she’d brought something so desi with her for lunch. When the tines of the fork slipped through his lips and he chewed, Radha looked away.

  “Wow,” he said as his eyes rolled back. “This is amazing. You did something to it, though. There is no way this is straight from the yellow package.”

  “I seasoned it, and added onions, carrots, spinach, and peas. Not bad, right? It took me a week to get comfortable cutting onions and sautéing the noodles after boiling.”

  “This is next-level, Radha. I’m stealing some more.”

  “Sure.” She grinned like she’d just won Iron Chef. So she wasn’t imagining things. Her cooking wasn’t that bad. True, she’d had to go through a few burnt batches, but she was getting the hang of it now.

  “From someone who has eaten their fair share of Indian food, being in Jersey and all, I have to say this is incredible. What else can you make?”

  “Not much. I just started learning how to cook. My father is teaching me. He’s a chef in Chicago. Has a restaurant and everything.”

  Jai scooped up some more Maggi and shoved his biryani container to the center of the table. “Wait, you have a dad who is a chef, and you are just now learning to cook…after you moved away from him?”

  Radha hunched her shoulders. “I used to be really busy with dance. Now that it’s no longer a time suck, I decided to kill two birds with one stone: talk to my dad and learn how to cook. Funny enough, I talk to Dad more now than I ever used to when we were living together. It’s nice. And cooking is, I don’t know. I feel like I’m discovering a new passion. It feels right.”

  “Well, this Maggi,” Jai said, taking another forkful, “feels pretty right too. You have natural talent. It makes sense that food is a passion for you.”

  She moved her container forward so that it sat next to his biryani. “It took me a week to learn how to cook an onion, Jai. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” She took a bite of his biryani and stifled a moan. Holy cow, she thought. Now that was awesome cooking. “Do you think your mom will share this recipe?”

  “Sure. I’ll ask her. If you tell me why you stopped dancing.”

  She looked up at his amused expression and narrowed her eyes. “That’s bribery.”

  “Sorry. The biryani is worth it, though.”

  She sat back and thought about his question, about her decision to stop dancing. She missed the pure joy of it. The dance joy. Her mother and all the performances never used to matter if she got to put on her ghungroos and get lost in the music. But now she hated that every time she thought about kathak, it was mixed with the truth of her mother’s cheating and the shame of not knowing whether she’d ever won a competition on her own merit. Then those thoughts would spiral out of control and include things like wondering whether dance had made her father unhappy and driven him away. She’d shared some of her beliefs with the multiple therapists she visited in Chicago, but they just wanted to talk about the reason, not a solution for how she could get her dance joy back.

  Radha spooned up more biryani and said, “I choked. At the International Kathak Classics in London. It’s the biggest kathak competition in the world, and I made it to the semifinals. Then I couldn’t go through with it. And since then, I swore I’d never perform again. My mom thinks I’ll get over it. She used to be a dancer too, so she thinks if I stop, I’ll regret it like her.”

  “Yikes. Hopefully you’ll be okay for the Winter Showcase in four months,” Jai said.

  Radha froze. “Wait, what do you mean?”

  “About what? The Winter Showcase? For a dance-track senior, performing in the January Winter Showcase is part of your graduation requirement. It’s a huge event.”

  Radha knew words were coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t comprehend them over the roaring in her ears. “There has to be an exception to the rule.”

  “Not really,” he said. “You have to have a family emergency or injury to replace the performance by writing a paper.”

  “Can I elect to write a paper? What if someone has, like, stage fright?”

  Jai shook his head. “Dance track is not for people who like it as a hobby. Well, maybe except for me, since I’m not going to dance school after graduation. You’re groomed at the academy to perform. A dancer’s whole high school career revolves around this showcase.”
r />   “And there is nothing I can do? I have no choice?”

  “Without an excuse or dropping out, no.” He used the fork to point at himself. “Or you’re on a Bollywood dance team and you—hey, what’s wrong?”

  The muscle tightness and trembling in her fingers came first.

  Oh no.

  She grabbed the lid of her tiffin and struggled to close the glass food container and shove it in her bag. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I didn’t realize…thanks. Thanks for everything.”

  “Wait, is there anything I can do?”

  She waved over her shoulder as she rushed to the exit and down the stairs. She couldn’t perform. No, she wouldn’t. She swallowed a few shallow breaths to suppress the nausea as she struggled to remember how to get to the director’s office. She had to ask Director Muza if there was a way out. There had to be a way out. Performing had taken everything away from her. Her family. Her career that was more her mother’s career.

  No, she couldn’t think of her mother right now. She wove through the empty hallways, praying that no one would stop her. This was a misunderstanding. She wasn’t supposed to perform at all. The director had to know that.

  Radha’s head began to pound when she reached her destination. The door was closed, and a schedule taped to the glass pane showed that the director wouldn’t be available until after school. She gasped for air, and had to close her eyes because of the floaters.

  Just as she felt like her panic attack would swallow her whole, she heard her name from down the hall.

  “Radha!” Jai jogged down the empty hallway until he reached her side. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay. For a brown person, you are very pale right now.”

  “I—I have to go home,” she said. She had to talk to her mother about this now.

  But the thought of confronting anyone about this sent a sharp pain piercing through her chest. Then her brain went fuzzy and she started hyperventilating.

  “Hey,” Jai said. His voice was hard, and she looked up at him. He grabbed her hands and pressed her palms against his chest. “It’s going to be okay. Can you still hear me?”

  Radha nodded.

  “Okay, now keep looking at me. Breathe in and out with me. We’ll do it together. Ready?”

  Radha nodded again.

  “Okay, in…and out. One more time. In…and out.” His chest expanded and contracted under her hands, and she followed the rhythm, focusing on that simple movement until she could think again.

  She didn’t know how many times they stood and did the exercise. On the last big push of air, her head emptied, and she swayed once, twice, and then steadied herself. Some of the pain in her chest eased too. She took a step back, losing the warmth of his body. Embarrassment swamped her.

  “That looked like the start of one really bad panic attack. My older brother Neil used to get them. Want to go to the nurse’s office or to your house?”

  “Home,” she croaked, then repeated herself so the word was stronger. “Home, please.”

  Jai hooked an arm around her waist and led her out of the building. “Come on.”

  He held on to her as he walked her to the parking lot and ushered her into a faded red sedan with a scratched bumper and bent license plate. The fabric seats were clean, but the vehicle had to be at least fifteen years old, if not more. Radha hugged her backpack to her chest and dropped her head back against the headrest. She told Jai her address, and he plugged it into his phone. They drove with only the sound of the GPS guiding them.

  When they pulled up in the wide stone driveway behind the white Audi, Jai gaped. Radha knew the size of the house was obscene for two people, but her mother was big on making a statement.

  Radha turned to Jai and tried to smile. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m sorry for falling apart like that. I, uh, don’t make it a habit to trip, or have panic attacks in front of people. It makes me feel like I’m…”

  Jai grinned. “In a Bollywood movie?”

  “Yes. And my inner Shah Rukh Khan is shuddering in embarrassment.”

  “There is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. People have panic attacks. I’m just happy I could help.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Now, tripping and falling straight into my arms…”

  She laughed, but the sound was watery to her ears. Before she could fall apart again, she opened the car door. “Thanks. Really.”

  Jai touched her arm again. “Wait, can I have your phone?”

  “Why?”

  “So I can give you my number.”

  Radha pulled out her cell from her backpack and handed it over. He punched in his digits and then handed it back to her. “I called myself, so I have your number too. Let me know if you need anything. I’m sorry if I said anything—”

  “No,” she said, cutting him off. “No. You were so…great. Thanks for the ride. One more thing. You were right. You make a pretty great friend.”

  With one last smile in Jai’s direction, Radha slipped from his car and into her house. She had a few hours to think before her mother came home.

  Sujata Roy had to have lied to her. She knew about the Winter Showcase when they made their deal. She’d betrayed Radha again, just like she betrayed Radha at the International Kathak Classics by keeping secrets.

  And if she had, that only meant one thing: Radha would have to do something to get out of dancing in the Winter Showcase. She knew that if she was forced to perform in front of an audience that was going to judge her, she’d break, and no amount of cooking, or therapy, or friendship could ever help her recover again.

  Chapter Seven

  JAI

  JAI: Hey. You doing okay?

  RADHA: Yeah. Thank you again for driving me home yesterday.

  JAI: Happy to help. I’m here if you ever want to talk.

  RADHA: You have been nothing but a hero since we met.

  Are you like this with everyone?

  JAI: I try to be if I can.

  RADHA: And who’s there for you when you trip and fall or have panic attacks or need a ride home?

  JAI: Well, I have the director, Nana Veeru, and my family. Winnie and her boyfriend, Dev.

  Some of the Bollywood Beats team too.

  RADHA: And now you have me. I’ll be there for you too if you want.

  JAI: Yeah?

  RADHA: Yeah.

  Over a week. It had been more than seven days since he’d seen Radha. He wanted to text her and make sure she was okay, and to ask what she’d meant about being there for him, but it just felt weird. On top of that, he’d been so busy with classes and working the late shift at the store every night. At school he spent every spare moment auditioning applicants for the open spot on the team, and working with some of the other dance teachers to see if anyone could help with team choreography.

  Thank God it was the last Friday of the month, he thought. He really needed to let off some stress and steam, and the Final Friday Dance-Off meant he could do just that.

  When he walked into the large hall where all the solo dance classes convened, the last thing he expected to see was Radha over by the window, surrounded by members of his Bollywood dance crew.

  “This could be good or bad, Jai,” he murmured to himself. “Think positive.”

  He was just starting toward his cluster of friends when Radha looked over Shakti’s shoulder at him. Sunlight glistened around her, and there was a small, amused smile on her mouth. She was like a regal goddess, with her crown of braids and her off-the-shoulder crop top over leggings. Her skin glowed as she watched him and simultaneously said something to his friends.

  “Hey, guys,” he said, and stepped into the circle and leaned an elbow against Hari’s shoulder. “Telling lies about me?”

  “Who said we�
�re talking about you?” Shakti snorted. “We’re much more interested in Radha. Did you know both of our dads are chefs?”

  “I did know that,” Jai said. “Radha’s a pretty awesome cook herself.”

  “We’re trying to convince her to save us from watching more auditions by joining Bollywood Beats. She’d be perfect for the team.”

  “Oh, don’t bother,” Jai said. “I asked and she shut me down.”

  “Well, maybe you didn’t ask nicely,” Radha said, crossing her arms.

  Hari made an “oooh” sound until Nupur, one of the few juniors present, slapped him on the back of his dastaar.

  “Ouch!” he said as he ran a hand over his turban. “What? What did I do?”

  Ms. Olga, with her white hair in a severe, no-nonsense bun, clapped in front of the room. “Five minutes left before we begin! All of you better be stretching!”

  Jai dropped his duffel bag next to the wall and extended a hand. “Come on, new girl. Forget the nerd herd. Help me stretch, please?”

  “You are literally going to be our class valedictorian,” Shakti said. “If we’re the nerd herd, what does that make you?”

  “Captain,” Jai said with a laugh. “Radha?”

  She looked at Shakti and the rest of his friends before she took his hand. “Lead the way, Captain.”

  Jai grinned. New girl has a sense of humor, he thought as he moved to the center of the room, away from his nosy team. Ignoring the people watching, he sat, legs spread in a V, and waited for her to position herself across from him. She scooted until her bare feet pressed against his ankles. They gripped each other’s forearms.

  “Did you mean it?” Jai asked. “When you said I didn’t ask nicely? Because I can.”

  Radha shook her head. “I was joking. I told you. I don’t want to perform.”

  “Are you going to be okay dancing in class today?”

  She nodded. “You’re talking about what…happened.”

  “Yeah. Have you always had panic attacks?”

  “When I was a kid,” Radha said as she pulled him forward with surprising strength. Jai leaned into the stretch. “I’ve had them over the years, but after a while the stage, or dancing, didn’t trigger them anymore. It wasn’t until the competition in January, the one I mentioned—since then, they’ve come back.”