“Yeah.” I want to believe her. I almost do.
To distract me Priti pulls up a movie on Netflix, and the two of us slip under my duvet. Our heads touch lightly as we lean against the headboard. Priti loops her arms through mine. There is something comforting about having her there; I almost forget about the rest of it. The two of us must drift off to sleep because the next thing I remember is blinking my eyes open.
Priti is softly snoring beside me, her face pressed against my arm. I push her off—gently. She groans a little but doesn’t wake up. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. The clock on my phone flashes1:00 a.m.There’s a murmur of voices off somewhere in the distance. That must be what woke me.
I crawl out of bed and push my door open a smidge, letting in the air and the voices of my parents. They’re speaking in low, careful voices just loud enough for me to make out.
“Too much freedom and that’s what happens. What does it even mean?” Ammu says.
“She’s confused, she’s probably seen it in the movies, heard her friends talking about it. Let her work it out and she’ll come back and change her mind.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Shewill.”
“You saw the way she was looking at us. She believes it. She thinks she’ll … she’ll marry agirl,like that’s normal.”
There’s a deep sigh and I’m not sure if it’s Ammu or Abbu, or what it means, or what I want it to mean.
“What do we even do while sheworks it out?” It’s Ammu’s voice again, dripping with something akin to disgust.
Tears fight their way up my body, trying to burst out. I choke them down somehow.
“We just act normal,” Abbu says. “Like nothing’s happened.”
Ammu says something else, but it’s lower. I can’t make out the words.
Abbu says, “We’ll talk about it later.” And the night descends into silence once more.
I push the door closed. My heart is going a million miles a minute. But before I can even think, even process, Priti flings her arms around me in an embrace. We both stumble backward, making more noise than anyone should at one o’clock in the morning after eavesdropping on their parents’ conversation.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I woke up.”
“Clearly.”
“It’ll be okay,” she says.
“I’m okay,” I say.
But I don’t think either of us really believes that.
2
AMMU ANDABBU ARE TRUE TO THEIR WORD. THE NEXTmorning it’s like nothing has changed. It’s like I haven’t told them this huge secret that’s been weighing on me for years.
“Sunny wants to know if you’ll go to the parlor with her tomorrow?” Ammu says to Priti and me at the breakfast table. These are our last few days of the summer holidays so Ammu wakes up and makes us Bengali breakfasts whenever she has time. This morning it’s norom khichuri with omelets. I spoon the soft, yellow rice into my mouth, but for once it doesn’t really have much of a taste. I spent the rest of the night running Abbu and Ammu’s words around in my head on repeat; looking at them in the morning light, I don’t know how they can just ignore the truth I’ve told them.
“Apujan?” Priti nudges me with her shoulder.
“Huh?” When I turn, she’s staring at me with a raised eyebrow. I realize she must have asked me a question. There’s a spoonful of khichuri uneaten in front of me. I shove it into my mouth and chew slowly.
“Do you want to go to the parlor? Sunny Apu is going to get her henna done, so that the color is all set for the wedding.”
The last thing I want to do is think about this wedding, but we’re smack dab in the middle of it. All it’s reminding me of now is that Abbu and Ammu think that somehow I’ll come back to this. Somehow, after everything, I will be exactly like Sunny Apu. Ready to marry a Desi guy like Abir Bhaiya.
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t think so. You can go if you want.”
