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“Why?Thisis my choice.”Helooked at me with determination. “I’mnot cursing a life of uncertainty onto a child, butIalso want a family.Hereyou are, with a family already on the way.”
Hiswords stunned me in a wayInever expected. “Itfeels wrong.LikeI’mtrapping you.”
Hegrabbed my hand again before the last word left my mouth.Therewas something so open, so authentic aboutJaythatIcouldn’t shake it away.
“Youknow what’s wrong?I’mtrying to convince you to marry me, knowingImight die young and leave you to become a young widow.IthoughtImissed my chance at having a family, and nowIsee a woman, one thatI’dfound myself drawn to repeatedly, in need of everythingIcould provide.I’mtaking advantage of the situation, knowing the riskI’mputting you in.That’swhat’s wrong in this situation.Imight be dead in five years, butIwant to die knowing what it’s like to be a father and to have a family of my own.”
Thepregnancy hormones made me do it.Iburst into tears, even as he reached over to wipe them away.Icried forJay, and myself, too, but it seemed to accomplish nothing.
“Thisis all so fucked up.”
“Oris it all meant to be?”
Howcould he be so unruffled at a situation so morose? “Youdon’t know what you’re saying?”
“Ihave never been surer of anything in my life.Sayyes,Piya.Thisis everythingIever wanted, and you need me as much asIneed you.”
Ilaughed in self-pity. “Youdon’t need me.Youhave countless options.”
“DoInow?” he asked dryly.
“Yes!”Iinsisted. “PossibleALSor not, every woman in our community is dying to marry you.”
“Mychoices aren’t as limitless as you might think.”
WhenIstared at him, unconvinced, he pulled out the big guns.Jay, the math whiz, decided to explain things to me with the help of numbers. “Lessthan one percent ofAmerica’spopulation isIndian.”
“So?”
“So… it means approximately two point six millionIndianslive inAmerica, and half are women.”
Realizationdawned on me. “Itmeans you have your pick from one point three million women to get married to.”
Heshook his head. “Notso fast.Outof that one point three million women, we have to account for those already married.”
Ah.Fairpoint. “Fine.Let’ssay half of them are married,”Ichimed in, distracting myself from the emotional turmoil with a math game to deduceJay’sperfect woman. “Aquarter are children or the elderly.Whatnumber are we at?”
“Let’sround it up to three hundred thousand.”
“Halfis likely already engaged, has a boyfriend, or is otherwise unavailable.”
Henodded. “Nowwe are at hundred and fifty thousand.Ofthe hundred and fifty thousand, the potential woman in question must live in eitherNewYorkorChicagoor at least be willing to move to either city.”
Thatwas right.Theirheadquarters were in those cities. “Let’ssay fifty thousand already reside in either city or are willing to move for your pretty face.”
Herolled his eyes.
“That’sstill quite a large pool to choose from,”Ipointed out.
“Wehaven’t finished yet.Outof the fifty thousand, they have to be from families like ours.Anythingless would be unacceptable.”
Iknew what he meant; old money.Ourfamilies spurned anyone who had become newly rich.Isighed defeatedly. “Well, that eliminates everyone but the top one percentile.”
Henodded thoughtfully. “Fivehundred women.”
“Wow.”Slimpickings.Howthe hell was one supposed to find their soulmate from only five hundred women?
“Notto mention,” he added. “Ihave to find the said woman attractive, charming, and preferably someone who is nice.”Heraised his eyebrow pointedly, making me smile and shake my head.
