by Nisha Sharma
Dance? No, he didn’t really want to dance. Unfortunately, not dancing would hurt Tara’s feelings. Jai looked over to where Shakti and Radha had been standing. They were no longer there.
“Jai!” Tara shrieked. She grabbed his hand. “One dance?”
“Yeah. Sure. Like old times.”
“Just like old times.” She shimmied as her full lehenga skirt billowed around her in a swirl of pink and lime green. They stepped onto the large parquet platform with a handful of other people. The music changed again, and even though he went through the moves with her, something didn’t feel right. Jai felt out of sync.
“Come on!” Tara said, and moved in closer.
He tried. He spun her until they were chest to chest, but even with the familiar moves, he just wasn’t into it. He wanted to dance with Radha.
Tara wrapped around him, and when her fingers dipped into his hair at the base of his neck, he stopped moving and backed away off the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do this.”
After scanning the room, he found Radha and Shakti heading toward one of the bar stations. Jai squeezed between chairs and tables, cutting around clusters of curious aunties, until he intercepted them.
“Captain,” Shakti said, when he stood in their path. She looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you busy?”
“Hey. No, I’m not. Radha, do you have a minute to—”
“Jai? You got lost! Were you getting us drinks? They’re over that way,” Tara said as she stepped up next to him. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Oh. Hey, Shakti.”
“Hey, Tara,” Shakti said. “How’s it going?”
“Same old. My parents said they went to your dad’s place the other day and loved the food. It’s one of the best restaurants in town now.”
“Thanks.”
Tara turned to Radha, her smile slipping. Jai’s stomach knotted. Damn it, Tara, he thought.
“I don’t think you and I have met, but you do look…familiar.”
Shakti motioned at Radha like she was on display. “Tara, Jai’s ex-girlfriend, meet Radha. Transfer student and brilliant choreographer. She’s going to lead us to victory.”
“Wait a minute,” Tara said to Shakti. “Radha, you said?”
“She did,” Radha replied. “And I’m standing right here.”
“I see that,” Tara said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I know you from somewhere….Wait. Are you Radha Chopra? The kathak dancer? And your mom. Sujata Roy, right? You’re kathak royalty.”
Jai watched the color drain from Radha’s face.
“Oh my God!” Tara clapped her hands together like a seal. “It is you. I take classical dance. Shakti and I started together, actually, before I moved from odissi to bharatanatyam and kathak. Your story is everywhere. You know, after the whole London thing.”
“What London thing?” Shakti asked.
“Radha reached the semifinals and then she quit,” Tara said. “Radha, there were so many rumors that you got disqual—oh. Um, never mind.”
“Disqualified?” Shakti asked. “Is that what you were trying to say? How?”
“Nope,” Tara said, shaking her head. “I screwed up one of these meetings with Jai’s friends once before. I’ve learned my lesson. Your mother’s affair with a judge is not my business.”
Jai swore.
Radha took a step back.
“Tara,” Shakti said with a sigh.
“What? She was representing Chicago. I have friends in Chicago who study kathak, and that’s all they talked about. That she let the whole US down or something. I didn’t believe it, though. I swear.”
Jai couldn’t control his shock. “Is that true?” It was all starting to make sense. She hadn’t competed since January. She didn’t want to go back to her dance school in Chicago. Her mother and her father had just gotten divorced. That explained the performance anxiety. The panic attacks. Not that anxiety was ever clearly the result of one thing, but her family situation was a pretty good reason to him.
Radha’s expression cooled. “I was the last one to find out about my mother’s relationship. That’s when I left. But it was really great meeting you. Jai, for the last week, you haven’t wanted me around. Now here’s your excuse to tell the director that you want a new choreographer. And now I think I’ve enjoyed enough Diwali celebrations for one night. I’ll see you at school, Shakti.” She strode to the exit.
“Radha, wait.” Shakti whirled on Tara. “Girl, we need to have a chat about women supporting women. That, or your timing.”
“Ugh, that was bad. Honestly, I should just lead with my bitch face. It’s less awkward for everyone.”
Shakti turned on Jai and drilled a finger into his chest. “Go fix this, Captain. Now.”
Jai didn’t need to be told twice. He ran after his girl.
Jai didn’t catch up to Radha until they were at the far end of the parking lot near her car. “Radha!” he shouted into the shadows. “Radha, hold up for a second.” He raced ahead of her and blocked her path. The sky was darker, and rain clouds covered the night sky.
“Oh, now you want to talk to me?”
Jai winced. “I deserve that.”
Radha crossed her arms over her chest. “Well? Are you going to tell me that you want me off the team or not?”
“No, of course not. But why didn’t you tell me what happened? We could’ve talked about it. I feel like I was blindsided back there.”
“Tell you what, that my mother had an affair with a judge she used to dance with when she was younger? Or that for every competition that I’ve ever danced in, I’m now thinking that my mother had a hand in my winning it, and I’m actually not that great a dancer after all?”
“You’re a phenomenal dancer,” he said, even as it began to drizzle. “You have to know that.”
“No, Jai. No, I don’t know it.” She gripped the chuni draped over her shoulder with white-knuckled fists. “Now, every time I try, I fall apart. But it looks like I’m going to have to figure something out for the Winter Showcase.”
“I didn’t say you shouldn’t choreograph anymore!” He’d never messed up this badly with someone, but all he wanted to do was comfort her, and nothing was going right. “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around.” His hands were disgustingly sweaty. He tucked them in the pockets of his sherwani. There was no way he was making sense.
Radha marched toward him. Her heels brought her closer to his height, which was enough to make him cower. “I’ve been competing for years, so I’m pretty smart when it comes to people. That’s why when you first approached me with the whole ‘hey, let’s be friends, let’s trust each other’ thing, I believed you. Do you know how hard it was for me to say yes? I don’t make friends easily, Jai. And then, after agreeing to this friendship, you totally blew me off!”
“We are friends. But we’re so freaking different. I mean, look at you! You’re like the Indian maharani, flush with cash money, while I’m…well, the court dancer in this situation, I guess. The cliché poor kid of immigrant parents.”
“Are you serious?” she said, her eyes widening. A droplet clung to her lashes. “You dropped me like third-period French because my parents have money and you don’t?”
“No, because there is a good chance you’re going to graduate, go to college, and forget that we ever met! I’m stuck in New Jersey, Radha. We’re here for ten more months together and then we’re done.”
“Who says I’m leaving New Jersey? Who says that we can’t talk to each other after we graduate? Do I seem that shallow to you?”
“No, of course not—”
“Then why? I deserve the truth.”
“Because I like you!” he shouted. “Because I like you and I can’t risk it. God, it was so selfish of me to treat you that way and not talk to you, but wh
at else was I supposed to do? If I freak you out, then I screw my team over, because they lose a choreographer! So I tried to keep my distance, and I’m sorry, okay?”
He turned away from her stunned look. “My brother reminded me that, I don’t know, I’m supposed to keep my eye on the goal. That I have so few shots, and if I get distracted…It’s nothing to do with you. I was just—”
“A complete idiot,” Radha said.
“I—was? I was. Yes, of course. But you think I’m an idiot for the same reason I think I’m an idiot, right?”
Radha shielded her face from the steadily increasing drizzle. “This is absolutely ridiculous. I can’t believe I like a guy who is as clueless as I am when it comes to relationships.”
His brain fried, and before he could filter his thoughts, he blurted out, “You like me?”
Radha propped her hands on her hips. “How could you ghost me like that? I spent days wondering if you even wanted to be my friend. And then you danced with your ex in there, and I still want to be with you. For as long as this thing is, I don’t know, a thing.”
“Radha?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d like to kiss you.”
“P-people don’t go around saying things like that!”
“How would you know? You’ve spent your entire life dancing.”
“Jai!”
He stepped toward her, swung her into a dip that would’ve made a Bollywood hero proud, and pressed his lips to hers. His head spun, but he held her close, even as Radha’s hands wrapped around his neck. Jai sank deeper into the kiss, as the slight drizzle turned into a downpour.
And then his heroine ran.
Chapter Twelve
Radha
Translation of Bimalpreet Chopra’s Recipe Book
Paneer
To create homemade paneer, you need a large pot, a colander, whole milk, lemons, a cheesecloth, and a lot of patience.
Bring eight cups of milk to a boil over medium heat. Stir frequently to avoid burning.
Add lemon juice and turn heat to low. Continue stirring until solids form.
Place colander in the sink, line it with cheesecloth, and pour in curds and liquid.
Rinse gently to remove lemon flavor.
Tie ends of cheesecloth together and squeeze out extra liquid. Hang to drain, then shape into a disk and chill.
FOUR MISSED MESSAGES
DAD: Hey, chutki. Just checking in on you. I talked to your mom and she said you were getting back into dance. Something about mtg your director who was pretty convincing? Either way, I hope you’re happy. And I know Chicago isn’t your favorite place, but maybe you’d want to visit me sometime.
SIMRAN: Hey!! I wanted to know how your paneer recipe turned out. Don’t worry when you add lemon. Sometimes adding something that seems completely wrong can be a wonderful treat.
SHAKTI: I’m so sorry about Tara. For what it’s worth, she apologizes too. There is nothing between her and Jai anymore, and she wants you to know that she knows she stepped in it big-time. Also, if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you, dude.
JAI: I’m so sorry if I did something that you didn’t like. You ran away pretty quickly, so I’ll give you whatever space you need, but maybe when you’re ready, we can talk?
Radha knew that she was a coward, but she’d never been in this particular situation before. When she finally stopped kissing Jai, she was soaked from the downpour.
Her heart was pounding so hard that it began to hurt, and she knew that the slicing pain was going to get worse. Without another word she rushed to her car, dove in, thanked God for keyless ignition, and peeled out of the parking lot.
By the time she pulled into the driveway, she was gasping for air, and her chest ached. Spots were starting to form in front of her eyes. Her hair frizzed around her ears, her outfit was damp, and she was trembling so hard from the cold. She hadn’t experienced a panic attack this vicious before, and no matter how hard she concentrated, Radha couldn’t get it under control.
Can’t breathe, she thought. Can’t breathe.
The tears started as she pushed into the house.
“M-Mom,” she croaked. She sobbed, even as she heaved for more air. Her chest hurt so much. She was going to pass out. “M-Mom.”
Her mother rushed into the foyer, her eyes widening. “Radha!”
She couldn’t remember what happened after that. Radha sat on the tiled floor in the foyer, her back against the front door, while her mother held her rescue inhaler to her mouth. Sujata talked, made her count, made her use her stress techniques to clear her head, then held Radha while she cried.
It was almost an hour later when they climbed the stairs to her room.
“You know that you’re supposed to carry an emergency inhaler now that you’re dancing again,” Sujata said. “Even when you’re going to some party.”
The inhaler. Right. Radha hadn’t touched it since she’d arrived in New Jersey. Had refused to. She held her hands up as her mother pulled off her blouse. She was exhausted.
And she was scared. Jai was the first boy she’d kissed, other than a dancer in India when she was fourteen. It was amazing and terrifying all at the same time. And now she’d probably ruined it.
Radha stepped out of her lehenga and waited as her mother tugged a cotton nightie over her head. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I know you’re mad at me, but do you, uh…do you think you can make an appointment for me? With a therapist? I think it’s time.”
Her mother’s eyes softened. “Okay. First thing Monday morning.”
“Thanks.” She was ushered into the adjoining bath, where her mother helped her take off her jewelry, comb her tangled hair, and wash the remaining makeup off her face.
Radha didn’t have the energy to protest when her mother tucked her into bed before nine and then turned off the light.
* * *
Radha couldn’t have been asleep for long. Her head still ached a little, and her blurry vision took a moment to clear as she tried to read the time on her bedside clock.
Eleven. It was still dark outside, so she’d only been sleeping for two hours. Her body felt infinitely better, though. A little achy, but she could breathe more easily.
When she turned on the bedside light, she saw the glass of water and the emergency inhaler within arm’s reach. Radha scrubbed a hand over her face and then got out of bed. She’d just go to the bathroom and climb back in bed.
That was when she heard Sujata raising her voice downstairs. Her mother rarely yelled, even when she was fuming mad at her. She could pee later, Radha thought as she opened her bedroom door and started downstairs.
“It’s as bad as when she was a kid, and you want me to send her to Chicago for Christmas break? No way. Did you know she made me sign this ridiculous agreement that I wouldn’t ask her to perform? Then when I told her she had no choice and I was going to send her to live with you, she actually fought me on it because that’s how badly she didn’t want to go to Chicago.”
“I blame you for that,” her father’s voice snapped through the speakerphone. “You keep pushing and pushing all the time. Now she doesn’t want to visit me. I think her break is far enough in the future that she’ll be ready.”
“No way,” her mother said. “For once, think about your daughter.”
“I always think about my daughter! You’re the one who has this twisted dance fantasy when she’s made it clear she’s not interested anymore! She can’t rewrite your history, Sujata.”
The voices were coming from the kitchen. With a sigh, Radha walked down the hallway. When her mother spotted her, she immediately switched off the speakerphone.
“Radha, is everything okay? You didn’t sleep long. Do you want to go
to the hospital?”
Radha held out a hand. Apparently, she’d have to do more emotional labor tonight that wasn’t her own. “I’m fine. I want to talk to Dad.”
“Later. We’re discussing—”
“Christmas, I know. I’ll talk to him.”
With a grunt, Sujata passed the phone over. “Hi.”
The gruff voice on the other end sounded tired. “Hi, chutki. Your mother just told me what happened. Want me to fly there? I have a couple friends in New Jersey. One of them is a doctor. We can get you checked out.”
The fact that he was offering to leave his restaurant to visit her had tears stinging her eyes. When was the last time her father had put her before his restaurant? He’d even stayed away the day she moved out.
And wow, wasn’t that some negative stuff taking up her brain space? Therapy couldn’t come fast enough, she thought. If she didn’t figure out a way to process her emotions, her anxiety was going to keep getting harder to manage.
Radha cleared her throat. “You don’t have to come. I’m okay. Just a lot of stress. Classes, my independent study, and this show that I’m choreographing a dance for.”
Sujata’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the show.
“Mom is going to find me a therapist. Cooking is helping, and I don’t want to stop, but I think I need that therapy after all.”
“Ah,” her father said. “Good. But if you need me, I’m here for you. Radha, I know I’ve always been busy, but I’ll come.”
“I know. I’m lucky you guys are so cool about therapy.”
Her mother gave her a questioning look just as her father said, “Oh?”
“Yeah, my friend from school said that her guidance counselor suggested therapy for her to manage her stress, and her mother said that she just needed to drink more water.”
“Well, we’re lucky that some of the friends we went to college with chose to pursue psychiatry,” her father said. “Do you remember Uncle Vinod?”
