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“It’s never too early. Don’t frown.” She pointed at Vandy’s forehead. “No wrinkles. Is that Anna’s makeup? When you wear that much mascara, people will think you’re hiding an alcohol or drug problem.”
“It’s my makeup. It’s in style.” Vandy refused to glance at her reflection.
“If it gets smeared, you’ll look like one of my patients after a bender. What do you think, honey? Does she look like an alcoholic or a drug addict?”
“Mom!” Vandy did glance around this time, but no one else in the lounge batted an eye.
“What?” Dr. Rishaan Patel sat up from where he had been eating his dal bhat and making notes on a long list of patient names.
“Her makeup. Alcoholic or drug addict?”
“She does not look like an alcoholic. Or a drug addict. They have more marks in their arms,” her father said absently.
“Every day I listen to their parents,” her mother complained. “’My son is living in my basement smoking pot and drinking beer. He doesn’t have a job, unless it’s having sex with random women. He’s got his fifth STD, and I can’t get him off my insurance.”
“She should start charging him for rent,” her dad said practically.
“I doubt it. Then she’ll complain about the money he spent on tattoos. No wonder those women’s blood pressures are out of control.” Sonal waved her fork at Rishaan. “I am so glad my daughters will never do anything like that to me. Accountant with a CPA-MBA has such a nice ring. Safe and successful woman you will be, and still so young at twenty-four.”
“Great.” Vandy had missed out on a lot of fun because she’d taken overloads and two full summer semesters to earn the 150 hours to sit for the CPA exam at graduation next summer. Then she’d start Chicago’s two-year MBA program.
“Then it’s time for a good man… or maybe before. I’d like him to be Gujararit, but I will settle for Punjabi or even a Sikh if you make the Dean’s list.” Her mother finished her bowl.
Dr. Patel’s portable hospital phone rang. He listened, gave a few orders, and hung up. “I hate July. So many new interns. And the medical students. Raj better not be like one of these know-nothings.”
“Raj is on renal service this month. According to his text messages, the dialysis machines are fascinating,” her mother added. “Not that I see him because I must keep my distance to show no favoritism.”
In the past, Vandy would have been mostly at ease with this type of convo. Today, however, she felt like she’d been hatched in the wrong nest. She wanted to get away.
Even better. Get away, do nothing all day except read actual paper books, and wait for Royce to get home so she could have random sex with a guy that she hardly knew. Her mom would definitely disapprove of her Irish tattooed firefighter who stayed in bed on his off days.
With the number of orgasms Royce had given her, she could totally understand how women would visit him if he lived in his mom’s basement. Her mother probably would not.
Time to make an escape. “Well, Anna and I are going to go to the Cleveland Museum of Art. Soak up some culture.”
“Have fun. Remember, stay hydrated and wear your sunscreen. Skin cancer is no joke. That t-shirt doesn’t have UPF.” Her hospital phone rang, and Vandy took the distraction to clean up like a dutiful daughter.
She had everything packed in the metal tiffin and was making her way out when her mom waved her back down.
“Please deliver that to Raj. I just texted him. He should be coming by the staff elevators any minute.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t be seen with him. And he’s post-call. He needs food. Can you drop him off at home?”
“His apartment?”
“No, at home. He should be in a real bed post-call, not whatever bed the pre-furnished medical housing provides.”
“Got it.” Vandy fled before she got more jobs or more questions.
She stood for ten minutes by the staff elevators, waiting for her brother to come down. He’d missed her birthday dinner.
Normally she’d have been impatient, but where else did she have to be? Netflix and books by somebody named Tolkien at Royce’s would still be there in an hour.
She mentally bopped back and forth between how Royce might feel if she answered his door tomorrow naked or if reading those books naked was weird—which made her almost miss seeing Raj.
“Raj?” she called after he walked right past her.
