by Nisha Sharma
Her words hurt like a knife wound. Why couldn’t anyone understand how important it was for him to be there for his family? He’d been too young when his father got into the accident to do much more than sit by his bed and worry with him while his mother cried and his brothers figured out ways to make sure they wouldn’t lose everything.
“I’m sorry,” she said when Jai remained quiet. “I didn’t mean anything…it’s just that you’re always taking care of me, and I want you to be happy, so—”
“Radha, I am happy.”
“But you’d be happier if you could study medicine, right? Maybe even join the Columbia Bollywood dance team?”
“Radha, please leave it alone.”
“I asked the director and—”
“You talked to Masi about me? Radha, why would you go behind my back like that? Does anyone else know my business now?”
She paled. “No, of course not! I never meant to make you feel that way. I was just asking for advice on how to help you!” She stepped into the chalk-drawn box. “Jai, let me help.”
“Why don’t you focus on yourself and your own applications?”
“I don’t—what do you mean?”
He waved a hand at her. “Half the time you don’t know if you want to cook or dance, and you’re questioning yourself because almost a year ago a jealous competitor said you didn’t have a personality.”
The words ricocheted between them, accompanied by her gasp. “Trying to figure out what you want isn’t a bad thing.”
“You know what you want, Radha. You just can’t admit it yet.”
She looked like he’d slapped her, and he’d never felt lower in life. Oh no, he thought. You screwed up. You screwed up, Jai.
“Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that—”
Radha held up a hand to stop him. “I think I better go.”
Fix this before she leaves you.
“No, no, not like this. Radha, please. I didn’t mean it.”
“I think you did.”
He followed her, close to her heels. “I didn’t. I swear. I’m sorry. Please don’t go this way.” He followed her to her car, which was parked a few feet away. She got into the driver’s seat, and he held the door open, crouching so he could remain at eye level with her. As much as she’d just hurt him, the thought of her breaking up with him had his gut churning. “Radha, please don’t leave me. Please.”
She’d reached for the ignition but froze at his words.
He gripped her thigh. “Talk to me.”
Finally her beautiful eyes turned to look at him. “I’m s-sorry I asked the director about you.”
“You were just trying to help. I’m in the wrong. Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad, okay?”
Radha sniffled even as she leaned over and kissed him. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I promise I’ll leave it be from now on. Whatever you want to do.”
Even though you think it’s wrong.
“I’m sorry I said what I did,” he replied.
“You’re right, though,” she croaked. “As much as it hurts, you’re right.”
“I’m not. I’m not. I was just…I don’t know. Please forgive me?”
She nodded, but didn’t look at him. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Why don’t we call it a day? We did a lot, and I should really help Nana in the store. Besides, we’ve been at this for a while.”
“Okay,” she said, and pressed the start button on the Audi. It hummed to life. “See you at school tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’ll call you.”
Radha nodded again. Jai shut the door behind her and watched as she drove out of the lot and onto the street. He walked to the back entrance, twisted up inside.
Panicked. He was panicked that she was going to leave him.
Eventually she would. He had to come to terms with that.
After he reentered the store and locked the back door behind him, Jai took a deep breath. He didn’t know if he could handle any more stress for the rest of the day.
His phone buzzed and he checked it, hoping that it was Radha. Instead it was another message from Tara.
TARA: Hey, Jai. I know it’s been a while since the Diwali party, but I really need to talk to you. Can you call me when you get a chance?
He’d have to talk to Radha first, he thought.
But maybe later, since he’d almost screwed up his relationship on his own over not applying to college, of all things. He wondered why there weren’t more movies about South Asian kids and their quest for higher education. He had nothing to reference in his time of crisis.
Jai shoved his phone in his pocket and pushed through the employee entrance to check on Nana. The store looked empty. Nana wasn’t behind the counter, where he usually sat.
“Nana?” Jai called out.
There were three aisles. He walked past the first one, then the second.
Halfway down the third aisle, he saw Nana on the floor, surrounded by rolls of paper towels.
“Oh my God. Nana? Nana!” He scrambled forward onto his knees at Nana’s side. “What happened? Did you fall?”
Nana slowly turned to look at him.
Nonverbal.
Half his face was drooping.
Fear gripped Jai’s whole body. “Nana Veeru? Can you smile for me?”
Only one side of Nana’s face responded.
“Hold out your hands?”
Nana looked at him with confusion on his face.
Okay, that wasn’t going to happen, Jai thought. Was that all he was supposed to do? He was too afraid to remember Masi’s directions.
Jai ran his hand over Nana Veeru’s neck and along his back, checking for any injuries. His nana sat there, swaying.
Okay, forget this. He jumped straight to calling 911.
“What’s your emergency?”
Jai went into autopilot. Name, location. Patient name and age. Stroke survivor having another stroke. He guessed at his weight. He didn’t know medications. Nonverbal. Paralysis.
He sat on the floor, praying harder than he ever had in his life, as he continued to talk to Nana in a soft, even tone and waited with 911 on the line to report if there were any changes. Every thirty seconds, Jai asked Nana to react to instructions. Minutes later, paramedics burst through the glass doors. Everything happened so fast, and in a blur. It was surreal, and Jai could barely keep up. He followed the paramedics outside, locked the store, and climbed into the ambulance.
Nana was strapped in, fear and confusion reflected in his eyes.
“It’s going to be okay,” Jai said. “I’m here. Masi is on her way.”
Please don’t let me lose him.
The minute he was seated next to the gurney, Jai texted his brothers, his mother, and Masi. They were going to meet him at the hospital.
His thumb hovered over Radha’s name. He should let her know.
The ambulance hit a small bump, and his phone almost slipped from his fingers.
He’d tell her later, he thought as he gripped Nana’s hand. Nana didn’t squeeze back.
Everything was going to be okay. It had to be.
* * *
The sickening hospital smell was exactly what he remembered from years ago. He hadn’t moved from his waiting-room chair since the moment he’d arrived, and all he could think about was the smell.
“Jai?” He jerked at the sound of his name. Masi rushed into the waiting room, her dhuku slipping, her jacket hanging open. “What happened? Where is he?”
Jai stood. “They took him inside. I—I don’t know. I did everything I could, I swear. Masi, I tried everything, and I’m so sorry—this is my fault. I wasn’t—”
Masi clasped his face in her hands. “Jai, be calm for me. This is not your fault, you hear me? I’m goin
g to go get as much information as I can about what’s happening. Stay here.”
He wanted to tell her to stay and sit with him so he wouldn’t be alone. Instead he watched her disappear through the swinging double doors and rubbed his dry eyes. If he had been in the store, and not so consumed with his performance, maybe he would’ve found Nana Veeru faster. Jai knew how critical it was for a person who’d had a stroke to get treatment quickly. All that mattered now was Nana Veeru’s life.
“Jai!”
His mother and Gopal rushed down the hallway toward him.
“We came as soon as we could,” his mother said. She was still wearing the faded salwar kameez she preferred when she was at home.
“Who’s staying with Dad?” Jai asked. “Were you able to get a nurse that fast?”
“No, Neil is home. Is Jammie here yet?”
“Yeah.” Jai waved toward the double doors. “She’s trying to find out what’s happening.”
“Okay. I’m going to check on her.” She hurried off in the same direction as Masi.
Gopal sat down next to Jai. “What happened?”
Jai shook his head. “I—I, uh, was practicing outside in the parking lot. Radha and I got into a little bit of an argument over something stupid. She left. I went inside to check on Nana. I found him sitting on the floor surrounded by paper towels.”
“Shit,” Gopal said. He cuffed Jai’s neck. “This is not your fault, kid. Don’t think for a second that this is on you.”
“As a stroke survivor, Nana Veeru has a higher chance of suffering a second stroke. If he’s not taking his medications, or eating right…Bhai, we can’t lose him. We can’t lose Nana.”
“And we won’t. We’re going to take care of him. That’s what family does. Right?”
Jai swallowed the burning in his throat. “Right.”
They sat in silence while Jai rehashed his afternoon. If Radha had stayed, he didn’t know if she’d have been able to help. He was familiar with hospitals and stroke units, while she’d probably never even stepped into an emergency room in her life.
She was kind, but would she stay calm through that much chaos? She had a lot on her own plate, too much to be borrowing his problems.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Gopal finally asked. “Besides Nana.”
“It’s Nana.”
“That’s it? That’s all?”
Jai slumped in his seat. When his brother wanted him to talk, he was like a government interrogator. After Dad’s accident, Gopal had taken on the role of hounding him when something was wrong.
And because he knew he couldn’t change his brother, Jai leaned back, closed his eyes, and told him everything. About Radha, about their fight, and about what he’d said after she tried to help.
After he finished, Gopal shook his head. “Well, you’re an asshole.”
“Yeah.” Jai ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah, I know.”
“How are you going to fix it?”
“No clue. I’ll tell her about Nana Veeru, but I don’t want her here. She’d try to support me. Gopal, we only have a year together. She’s this bright light, and my memories with her shouldn’t include hospitals.”
Gopal nodded. “Fair. But maybe you’ll have more than a year with her. And maybe you need to have hospital memories too. That means she cares enough to accept you during the good and bad times.”
“No,” Jai said. “I don’t want to hurt her or, like, burden her with my problems. I’ll explain why Columbia isn’t for me. She deserves an answer. But that’s it. She’s better off far away from this stuff.”
“Wait a minute,” Gopal said. There was ice in his voice. “What do you mean by burden her? With what? With Nana having a stroke? With Dad?”
“No way, bhai.” Jai’s stomach dropped at the thought of his grandfather and father being anything but important and vital in his life. “Nana and Dad are not a burden. Ever. That’s not what I meant.”
Gopal stood, his hands fisted. “You can’t just play the ‘my life is shittier than yours’ card without people thinking that you’re treating two elderly people with disabilities like a burden.”
“What is wrong with you?” Jai snapped. He stood now too. “Neil tells me that I should stay away from her, and now when I’m trying to figure out how to keep her at a distance, you’re telling me not to?”
“No, not like this! We have more than so many people have. We still have Dad and Nana. They’re right here. Yeah, things sucked for a while when you were younger, because we were out of money, but we’re doing better now! You have a future, but you’re too stupid to see that.”
“No, I’m the only one who isn’t stupid in this situation,” Jai said. “Why can’t any of you see that the family needs me to stay right here in New Jersey instead of going off to college? I’m doing the right thing with Radha.”
“By using Dad and Nana as an excuse, you coward. They’re not a convenient excuse for your high school bullshit.” Gopal shoved Jai back into his seat. “Mom was right. For someone so smart, you can be incredibly dense.”
Gopal stormed through the double doors and left Jai sitting in the waiting room by himself, with his head cradled in his hands.
Chapter Eighteen
Thanksgiving
Radha
Translation of Bimalpreet Chopra’s Recipe Book
Punjabi Samosas
Samosas are the food of friends and family. Serve as a snack for some gup shup conversation.
To make the samosa dough, start with all-purpose flour, carom seeds, salt, ghee, and water (as required). It is important to know the ratio between flour and batter. Kneed and set aside.
To make the potato filling, you’ll need ghee, cumin seeds, ginger, garlic, boiled potatoes that have been mashed, green peas, dried mango powder, red chili powder, coriander seeds, garam masala, pomegranate seeds, and half a red onion. Dry-roast the pomegranate seeds and cumin seeds. Crush the pomegranate seeds. Melt the ghee, then add all seasoning first. Then add potatoes and peas on medium-low heat until combined.
Once the potato mix is ready and the dough has rested, pinch a ball of dough, dip it in a little oil, roll it into a circle, and shape a cone. Add potatoes to the cone, then wet the edges of the cone with water to seal. Deep-fry samosas in medium-hot oil.
Radha’s note: Can use sweet potatoes, corn, or lentils as substitutes. Let filling cool completely before shaping cones and frying. A hot mixture will make the dough soggy.
JAI: My brothers think I’m becoming cranky because I haven’t seen you in a week.
RADHA: I can come to the hospital!
JAI: That means a lot to me, but don’t worry. Listening to me being cranky and taking care of my team is more than I can ask for. How is the routine coming along?
RADHA: It’s under control. I’m working extra with Shakti. Jai, are you sure there isn’t anything I can do?
JAI: I promise. Thank you for putting up with me.
RADHA: Well, you’re cute so that helps.
“I don’t understand why you would do that!” Simran’s voice screeched from the laptop as she yelled at Radha in a mix of Hindi and Punjabi. “You are desecrating the samosa, chutki!”
Radha held up the triangle of stuffed dough so that her cousin could see it clearly on the video-chat screen. “Right out of the oil. I bet you that you’d love it if you tried it.”
“I don’t think I’d ever want to try a samosa stuffed with sweet potato and marshmallow.”
Radha shrugged. “I made the dough more like a pastry dough, so it’s actually pretty good. I think this is my best Indian-fusion recipe yet.” She remembered digging her fingers into the dough, smelling the sugar and the salt, and feeling the tension in her shoulders slip away. The sizzle of frying had reminded her of foggy moments with her fat
her, in her childhood, before dance had taken over her life. Before the restaurant had taken over his life and become his main priority. As she bit into the hot, triangle-shaped dessert, an amalgam of sweet and soft and creamy textures, she felt connected with her family.
Simran’s voice radiated through the computer speakers, breaking her out of her food-love trance. “Why are you cooking all these samosas before—what time is it over there?”
“Two. It’s Thanksgiving in America today.”
“Samosas were one of the first things Dadaji learned how to make for the family. You’re spitting in the face of tradition, Thanksgiving or not.”
“I’m making some new traditions.” She wondered if Dada would’ve liked her samosas, despite Simran’s complaining. He’d passed away before she was even born.
Jai’s grandparents had passed away when he was young too, but he had Nana Veeru. Even though the sweet old man she’d met only a few times was a chosen-family member, he was just as important. Sometimes chosen family could understand things blood relatives didn’t.
She sighed. There she was, thinking about Jai again. She was a fool. It had only been a week, for God’s sake.
The sound of a baby fussing came through the speakers. Simran’s gentle voice followed.
“Do you need to go feed the baby?”
“Yeah, let me go. It was good catching up with you, even though you’re doing unspeakable things to perfectly good recipes.”
Radha laughed. “I’m sorry, but not really. Sweet-potato samosas are delicious.”
“Well, you’ll have to come and visit and make some for me. It’s the only way I’ll know whether or not you’re lying.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Radha said. And waved before she disconnected the video chat.
A message popped up on the screen before she could shut down her computer. For as long as she could remember, she’d never spent hours talking to people. Until now. It was kind of nice.
