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“So, uh,” he began as he poured the mountain of cucumber slices into the waiting bowl. “Do you like kids? Do you want kids? Either way is good for me. No pressure. I’m thirty-eight.”
Smooth. Great job proposing lifelong fidelity to someone who didn’t know your age.
Malina switched off the burner for the fish and faced him a moment before the room was plunged into darkness.
~
“Oh my gosh,” Melinda gasped into the blackness. “Why is this a thing for us?”
“The wind must’ve taken something out,” Grant said. “Do you have flashlights?”
“Somewhere,” she said. “But I know for sure where my candles are. Let’s go to the sitting area; I’ve got candles on the coffee table and a lighter in the drawer. But hang on, the rice is done.”
Oops, it smelled like the rice was overdone. What’s the life parallel for burned Christmas rice? Burned bridges. Maybe it wasn’t too late to reconstruct them. Melinda turned off the saucepan’s gas and moved it to a cold burner. She lifted the lid to add a little cool water and soften the grains at the bottom of the pan. Maybe no one would notice a few rock-hard pebbles on their plate.
Then she led the way out of the kitchen and through the gap between her couch and television. She kneeled on a floor cushion beside the coffee table and searched for the drawer where she kept the long-handled lighter. She lit the first pillar candle and suddenly her condo wasn’t destitute, it was classy. Grant’s face flickered into view as he sat cross-legged beside her.
What had he just asked? If she wanted kids. What? Melinda lit the second candle and more of her home floated into view. She pressed her hand to her overworked heart. First it was the stress of the day as she prepared for dinner, coupled with the heart-wrenching excitement of being around her family for the first time in years; then Grant’s arrival; then the group’s departure and the time with him. The amazing conversation that led to—was it real?—his proposal of marriage. And then the power had added its two cents by abandoning them. Melinda smiled to herself as she lit the final candle. All that was missing was a broken futon.
Oh.That’s what Grant meant when he asked about kids. They’d used condoms in the mountains, but there was no guarantee. Whoo. This was a doozy.
Melinda twisted her necklace and imagined children. She was starting to understand why Chandi hadn’t torn Grant limb from limb. Looks like she owed the goddess a favor. As she thought about the directions she wanted her life to go—deep, wide, layered, vibrant—she realized that the complexity and intensity of bringing children into her world didn’t scare her at all, and in fact, the thought appealed to her.
“Um.” How to return from flashlights to offspring?
“I think I do,” she said. “I think I do want children. I think I’d actually love to have children. With you. I would love to have children with you.” Could she look at him? What if he didn’t want kids? What if he wouldn’t want her anymore now that she said that? What if she was already pregnant and he didn’t want kids and—
Grant lifted her chin to press his kiss to her lips.
“Oh,” she breathed, and twined her arms around his neck.
“Malina.” He reset his forehead on hers as her heart threatened to burst. “It would be my greatest joy to have a child with you. Let’s get to work on that right away.”
“Oh,” she said again as his arms encircled her and he deepened the kiss. How was a girl to cope?
As it turned out, she wouldn’t have time to cope, because at that moment their family and friends burst into the house, chattering and stomping their boots. Laying eyes on Grant and Melinda in their celebratory embrace, the group—Katrina, Aarjav, Buck, Max, Paul, and Melisa—fell immediately silent.
“Well, well, Samson,” Max said, eyes locked on Grant where he cradled Melinda. All three candles jumped as the two of them righted themselves.
Melinda averted her gaze from their audience but could feel her mother’s eyes from across the room. Judgment? Disappointment? She raised her head to read her mother’s face and marveled that even after years apart, her mother could read her like a book.
“Do you have anything you’d like to share with us, Malina?” her mother asked and Melinda grinned, eyes suddenly swimming with tears.
“I do, Mata ji,” she said. “I do. Grant has asked me...” Words failed, again. “Grant has asked me to be his wife,” she said.
“And what did you say, Didi?” Max asked, his smile so wide Melinda’s heart ached.
“I said yes, Bhai.” She ran to the embrace of her family.
~
Grant wanted his mom. He wanted her there to envelop him in a hug, to kiss his face and tell him she was proud of him and his choice. He wished with all his being that she could meet Malina. He dashed away tears, relieved that all eyes were on Malina in that moment, and that the lights were still out.
“She’s raising a glass to you both,” Buck said behind him, and Grant turned in surprise. Where had his father come from? And how did he know what Grant was thinking? Buck pounded Grant on the back and then, to Grant’s shock, wrapped him in a bruising hug. “Proud of you, son. Your mom is too. You made a great decision today. I can’t wait to get to know your young lady better.”
“Does it bother you that I don’t know her better?” Grant asked. “I mean, are you going to tell me to wait to get to know her better first?”
“Best way to find out if it’s a good fit together is to fit together.” His father released Grant from the hug and gripped him by the upper arms. “I’ve counseled you on dozens of ideas and ventures over the years, and your instincts are spot on. If they weren’t, everything you touched wouldn’t turn to gold.”
