Karthik shook his head. These meetings followed a very rigid agenda. They weren’t supposed to go this way. “No, we can only eat after the introductions.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Why?“That’s how it’s usually done.”
She shrugged, then gestured toward the entrance of the room, where her parents were greeting his mother. “My parents really won’t care,” she said, handing him a plate. He took it automatically.
She looked at him expectantly, then frowned. “Really, go ahead.” She grabbed a plate of her own and started adding samosas to it. “I’ll join you, if you want. The only thing you can’t have is—”
“You must be Meghna,” his mother said. “I’m Shanti. Karthik’s mom.”
Meghna. Her name was Meghna. Karthik was sure his mother had told him that before. She had probably shared the woman’s biodata or a résumé, but Karthik never paid much attention to the emails his mother sent about these meetings. He wouldn’t be marrying any of these women, so there wasn’t any point.
“Nice to meet you, Aunty,” Meghna said as she handed his mother a cup of tea. The two of them took a seat on the opposite couch, and Karthik sat down as well. He grabbed his own cup and blew across the surface.
So far, none of this was going the way he’d expected. His mother was supposed to introduce him to Meghna. Before he had tea. Or the snacks. She wasn’t supposed to assume they had already introduced themselves. He frowned. Should he have introduced himself?
Meghna’s parents joined them, her father greeting Karthik with a firm handshake before sitting down next to his daughter. He whispered something that made Meghna laugh, then passed a cup of tea to his wife.
The conversation quickly shifted into familiar territory, and Karthik breathed a sigh of relief. It was time for the parents’ small talk, which meant he wasn’t required to participate. He filled his plate as the parents talked about what part of India they were from, why they had come to the United States, and how difficult it was to care for their aging relatives while living halfway around the world.
His mother then provided a truncated version of his résumé: where he had gone to school, what he did for work, where he lived. Meghna’s parents quickly did the same.
He learned that Meghna worked as a middle school English teacher. Her parents said it matter-of-factly, but he knew the subtle signs of parental disappointment well. Even if he hadn’t, Meghna’s body grew tense when her parents talked about her job.
It wasn’t easy facing that kind of pressure. Those expectations. And it was even harder to not let the desire to please them, to make them proud, affect your decisions. To choose what you wanted,knowing that doing so would result in their disapproval. Or, as had been the case with Karthik’s father, his disinterest. His neglect.
“I’m sorry your husband had to stay back in New York,” Meghna’s mother suddenly said. “We would have loved to meet him.”
Karthik’s mother smiled, but the strain on her face was obvious. At least to him.
“He really wanted to come,” she said. “But unfortunately, he had to stay back for work.”
As his mother absently twisted the thin gold band on her ring finger, Karthik wondered whether she had just told the truth. Prioritizing work over family was par for the course with his father, but he wasn’t sure if his dad had asked to stay home in New York or if his mother had asked him not to come. Either way, it was for the best. His father had a way of bringing out the worst in him.
Karthik turned his attention back to the snacks on the table, ready to sample some more. He grabbed a jalebi and a couple mini samosas, but when he reached for the pani puri, Meghna shook her head. She checked to make sure their parents weren’t looking, then ran her finger quickly across her throat in ayou’re deadgesture. He retracted his arm immediately and took a second look at the pani puri, trying to figure out what was wrong with them.
“Meghna, why don’t you show Karthik the study?” her mother said. “There’s such interesting art on the walls there. Isn’t that right, Akshay?”
“I don’t know what you—” Meghna’s father started, but Karthik’s mother quickly interrupted.
“I’m sure you’d love to see it,” she told Karthik.
Meghna’s mother nodded her head so emphatically, Karthik worried her earrings might fly clear across the room.
“Oh, right,” Meghna said after a moment, looking as if she was barely holding back a laugh. “The paintings in the study. They’rereallysomething.” She got up and gestured for him to follow.
Ah,yes. This phase of the meeting. The one-on-one conversation.He always felt bad about this part. Well, really, he felt bad about the whole thing. Wasting her time. Her family’s time. Disappointing them. And his mother. But he didn’t know what else to do. How else to go about it. Or get out of it.
He joined her, walking the short distance across the hall to her parents’ study. Once there, they stood silently at the entrance, looking at the three framed print copies of Monet’sWater Liliesarranged on the opposite wall.
“So, this is it,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Meghna shrugged. “I’m pretty sure they came with the house, but I guess they had to make up some reason for us to talk alone. At least that’s how I’ve heard these things are supposed togo.”
He nodded. She was right. This was exactly how it was supposed to go. They were finally back on track. And that meant it was time to break the news. After seven meetings, he’d figured out a pretty reliable script. Reactions had been mixed, but he’d learned it was best to do it right at the beginning. To just get it out there and…What had she just said? That’s how she’dheardthis was supposed to go? She couldn’t mean—
“Is this the first time you’ve done this?”
