by Sonya Lalli
I followed her to the bank of elevators that went up to the guest rooms. “Shay?”
She looked back over her shoulder, just as the elevator door opened.
“What’s wrong?”
Her face crumpled, and she stepped into the elevator. “I just need a minute.”
“What is it?” I blocked the door with my arm, but she shook her head as I moved to step inside.
“I need a minute—”
“Shay, you’re crying. What—”
“Please?” she whispered.
What was going on with Shay? She’d been dealing with overbearing Auntie Sarla for nearly thirty years; this wasn’t just wedding stress. It couldn’t be.
“Seriously,” she sobbed. “Haven’t you ever just needed a min- ute?”
Reluctantly, I pulled back my arm. “You have one minute. Then I’m coming up.”
She nodded as the doors closed, and I went back into the hall. I scanned the crowd for Julien, but I couldn’t see him. Half of the guests had abandoned their seats for the dance floor, and the live bhangra was in full swing. From across the dance floor I spotted Asher for the first time that evening, his head visible above the crowd. I felt my stomach flutter. He caught my eye and waved. I waved back, and tried not to wonder where Rebekah was. The band was loud, and it seemed like everyone was bouncing along as the female lead singer belted out Punjabi lyrics.
I motioned to Asher to check his phone, and then I texted him.
Where’s Julien? It’s urgent.
A moment later, he replied.
I don’t know. Want me to help you look?
I texted back.
Sure. Let me know when you find him. I’ll be in Shay’s room.
I put my phone back in my purse and turned around. The crowd was thick around me, and I pushed my way back into the foyer. I reached forward to press the button, and as I was waiting, I felt a hand on my waist.
“Darling.”
I whipped around.
“You look gorgeous.” Dev pulled me in for a hug. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
I couldn’t breathe. What was he doing here? At Shay’s wedding? Back in Toronto?
I suddenly remembered that it was Friday by the colored tie he was wearing. His hair—light black and bristly, a few whisks of gray—was typically parted and in place.
“Took me ages to track you down, and wow. And to think—I’ve never even seen you in a sari.”
I was speechless. He tried to reach for me, and I pushed him away. He dropped his arms, studying me as if suddenly I’d become a complex graph; a banking equation it was his mission to solve.
“What happened? I flew in yesterday, and Bill said you—”
“Quit.” I crossed my arms. “Yes, I quit.”
He sighed, putting his hand around my waist. “Tell me this isn’t about us.”
“Us? There isn’t an ‘us.’ We haven’t spoken in months.” I tried to shrug off his hand, but then he wrapped the other one around me, too. “The thing is, Dev, this is the first thing I’ve done in a while that has nothing to do with us—or my nani, or anyone but me.”
“Raina, it’s been a stressful time for me, and on top of that, you stopped speaking to me, and it threw me. It’s thrown me right out—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“But I’m staying put at the minute. Don’t you see? Don’t you see what that means for us? I’ll travel still. But I’m based here. Near you. Properly now.” He smiled and leaned in closer. “Really, love. You didn’t have to quit.”
“Were you even listening to me?”
“You and I were happy together, weren’t we? I love you—”
My head swam, and when he leaned to kiss me, I tried to pull away.
“—I always have.”
I felt my cheek against his chin, his hands on the back of my neck, my waist.
“Raina, I think I’m ready—”
His lips pressed against mine, and I winced. I was breathing hard when he pulled away. I opened my eyes, my vision blurred, and my lashes stuck together. Finally, everything became clear. But I didn’t see Dev. I saw Asher.
“Asher . . .”
Dev spun around. Asher was standing just behind him.
“Sorry, mate. Didn’t see you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Dev.”
Asher’s hands didn’t move; his eyes didn’t leave me.
“You a friend of Raina’s?”
I could feel Dev shift beside me, and when he tried to put his arm around me, I flung it away. Asher’s face was motionless.
My mind raced. This was wrong. It all felt so wrong. I wanted Asher to hold me, Asher to kiss me—the way he had in New York.
“Asher, I—”
He turned on his heels, started walking toward the door, and I followed.
“Raina, where are you going?” I heard Dev cry out, but I kept running after Asher, nearly tripping on the hem of my sari as I tore through the revolving door behind him.
“Asher, wait.” I caught up to him, tugged on his shoulder until he turned around. “Please, don’t go.”
I looked into his eyes, pleading with him. Would he forgive me? Could I say anything—do anything—to make it right between us? Take us back to New York, back to midnight.
“Look at me,” I whispered. “Please.”
A gust of wind tore in from the parking lot—sharp, sandy—and I wrapped the tail of my sari around my arms.
“I know what that looked like. I know what you must think of me, but let me ex—”
“You have no idea what I think about you.”
“Please, let me explain. My heart was in the right place, I swear—”
“You’re in love with that guy?”
I looked at his hands. They were shaking, and I wanted to reach for them.
“I used to be,” I whispered.
“And now?”
“And now . . . I’m falling in love with you.” I stepped toward him, but he drew back. One step, and then another.
“I didn’t mean it to go this far, I swear. It got out of hand, and I didn’t know what I was doing.” I paused, willing him to look at me. “You asked me once, what I was looking for. What if it’s you, Asher? What if we can find it together?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say right now.”
“I’m not a bad person, it’s—”
“I know you’re a good person,” he said slowly. He wouldn’t meet my eye. “I wouldn’t have cared for you if you weren’t.”
“So you do care?” I asked, hoping. Pleading. “You still . . . you could still care about me?”
“I’m a simple guy. This—you—it’s too . . . complicated. I can’t.” He breathed out, and his voice caught. “I can’t do this right now.”
“I’m sorry, Asher. Please—”
But he wouldn’t look at me, and he kept walking away. “I’m sorry, too.”
* * *
I didn’t want to let him go. But I did. He disappeared behind the hotel, and after ten minutes, I forced myself to realize he wasn’t coming back.
Dev was still in the lobby, reclined on a sofa, his legs crossed. Right ankle over left knee, his BlackBerry in hand. He looked up as I approached, and tucked the phone into his pocket. He shifted over on the couch, and I sat down next to him. For a moment neither of us spoke.
“Why did you do that?” I asked him finally.
“Do what?” He moved closer to me. “Darling, who was that?”
“Dev, I’m not your darling. Stop calling me that.” He tried to brush a piece of hair behind my ear, and I pressed his hand down. “I want you to just . . . stop.”
“Raina . . . what’s happening?” I didn’t answer, and he intertwined his fingers through mine.
Had it really t
aken me this long to get here?
“Weren’t we happy?” he whispered.
Maybe he really was ready this time, or maybe he wasn’t. But finally, I was ready, and I knew I could never go back.
“We were happy. But, being with you . . . it’s not enough for me.” I dropped his hand. “I was just too in love to realize it.”
THIRTY-TWO
Shay duped me. She wasn’t in her room, and I couldn’t find Julien, either. They had disappeared from the sangeet without a trace, and the entire night their cell phones kept going straight to voice mail. Serena, the twins, and I searched the lobby, the back rooms, and even drove over to their condo downtown, but we couldn’t find them anywhere. Asher had disappeared, and when we asked the other groomsmen, none of them knew where they’d gone, either.
“Maybe they’re doing it,” Nikki said around 2 A.M., when we ordered room service to refuel. “Maybe they’re in the next room, right now, having really raunchy sex.”
“You’re so immature,” Niti said, as she stripped the meat off a chicken wing with her teeth. “They probably just eloped.”
Eloped?
“Whatever they’re doing, I hope they’re okay,” Serena said, and I nodded in agreement.
Why had I let her run off? Disappearing like that was so out of character, I feared the worst. Had she not passed her final pediatrics exams? Had someone died?
What was she hiding from me?
We decided to try and get a few hours of sleep before the wedding, and it was only as my eyes were fluttering shut that I realized it was my birthday.
That I was thirty.
I drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours until my alarm woke me up. Serena was snoring in the bed next to me, and I reached over and hit the alarm, and then threw pillows at her until she woke up. A few moments later, we crawled out of the room, knocked on Nikki and Niti’s door, and the four of us—gowned in hotel slippers and robes, our matching bridesmaids’ saris draped over our arms—took the elevator up to the top floor. It was exactly 5 A.M., when we were all supposed to meet to get ready. We arrived at the suite, but when Nikki knocked, no one answered.
“I know she’s coming,” I said. “I just know it.”
“And what if she’s not?” Niti asked.
I was thinking of a way to answer that when the elevator bell rang from down the hall, and a moment later Shay emerged. She still had her full hair and makeup from the previous night, and she was wearing a pair of blue-checked pajama pants and the blouse of her sari. She turned her head, and then sulked toward us. Her eyes were red, her long-wear mascara bleeding at the corners.
“Have you been up all night?”
She didn’t answer and fished a key card out of her clutch. She jabbed it into the slot. She tried to swing the door behind her, but I caught it and pushed through just in time to see her collapse facedown onto one of the couches.
“Shay?” I sat down beside her.
She turned around slowly, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
“What is it?”
She swallowed loudly, and tears welling in her eyes, she said, “I think the wedding is off.”
* * *
For twenty minutes Shay just lay there, facedown on the couch, her arms splayed out behind her; I couldn’t tell if she was asleep or awake, crying or even breathing.
“Are you ready to talk yet?”
Shay groaned, and shook her head into the pillow. I’d instructed everyone else to start getting ready without us, thinking surely Shay would snap out of it quickly, but I was getting worried.
What had happened? Surely, the wedding wasn’t really canceled?
“Shay, tell me—”
“I don’t want to talk about it—”
“You know what?” I grabbed her by the waist and yanked her up from the couch. “I don’t care. We’re talking about it.”
Somehow, I managed to get Shay into the bathroom. I locked the door behind us, and when I turned back around, she had seated herself cross-legged on the counter. I stood with my back against the door, waiting for her to speak, but she just looked at her hands.
“Did you and Julien have a fight?”
I saw the tears pooling in her eyes, and then a fat droplet rolled down her cheek. I wiped it away, and her body trembled as I put an arm around her.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.” She wiped her face with the back of her hands.
“Do you want me to call him?”
“He won’t answer.” She shook her head. “He’s so mad at me.”
“What happened?”
She hopped off the counter and started pacing in front of me, her hands on her hips.
“Shay?”
“Don’t be mad. Okay? You were so mad at your mom for getting pregnant”—she paused—“and, well, so am I.”
“Mad?”
“No. Jesus, I’m pregnant.”
“Oh my God.” Tears welled in my eyes. “Shay, you’re going to be a mom?”
She shrugged.
I lunged for her, hugged her, squeezed her until she pushed me off. “This is amazing, Shay. Why the hell are you guys fighting?”
“Because I didn’t want it to happen yet, Raina! I just finished residency. Just got some semblance of independence. And then there was my freaking circus wedding to deal with. Finally, I was about to get some pressure off of me.”
“These things are unexpected—”
“I’m a doctor. I’m on the pill, Raina! This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. I’m not ready.”
“You’re going to have to be ready.”
“That’s what Julien said.” Shay frowned. “And I got mad and said I wanted an abortion.”
“You do?”
“Of course I don’t want an abortion. I want a baby with him—I just don’t want one now. And I was angry at Julien because he was so excited, but he doesn’t have to get stretch marks. He doesn’t have to push out a baby.” She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wiped her nose. “We’ve been fighting all week because he wanted us to go to confession before the wedding, ask for forgiveness from his priest—and get married right then in the church. And last night we almost did go. We were practically in the car, and I was so mad—I don’t know, hormones—and I know how his whole raging Catholic family feels about it, and I just . . . told him I wanted an abortion.”
“And you didn’t mean it.”
She sniffed. “No.”
“Then apologize, Shay. It’s simple. Tell him the truth, and apologize.”
Was it really that simple? Could every mistake be fixed this way? Falling to one’s knees, begging those who you’ve hurt to forgive you?
Shay knocked over the toilet seat lid and sat down. I handed her more toilet paper; she blew her nose, and handed it back to me. I stuffed it into the pocket of my robe and crouched down next to her.
“Do you remember the night you introduced him to me?”
Shay looked up, nodded slowly.
“I was going to save this for your toast tonight, but, to hell with it. Do you know what he said to me the next morning? He came out of your room and I was in the kitchen making coffee, and he wanted to make you breakfast—do you remember that?”
“He was the first guy to ever make me breakfast.”
I nodded, and grabbed her hand. “And I was showing him where the toaster was, the sugar, the milk, and then he stopped and looked at me, and said, ‘Raina, I’m going to marry that girl.’”
Shay’s face crumpled.
“Almost six years later, and you two are happy, Shay. You’re a family.”
“And what’s our family going to be like, huh?” Shay sniffled. “Am I going to turn into my mean, manipulative mother”—she gestured around the room—“and host lavish parties just so everyone knows how rich w
e are?”
“First of all, you are nothing like Auntie Sarla.” I smiled. “Secondly, the thing about starting a family, Shay, is you get to choose what it’s going to be like.” I fished my phone out of my robe pocket and handed it to her. “You and Julien get to be whoever the hell you want to be.”
* * *
At eight thirty, Auntie Sarla and a flock of her friends and relatives started arriving, wedging themselves into the love seats and onto the room’s surfaces. The makeup artist finished with me and moved onto Serena, and a second later, a hairstylist named Claire appeared, grunted hello, and started to roughly comb my hair. She angled my chair into the room’s corner—so she could more easily reach her curling iron—and I couldn’t see anybody.
I heard noises escalating behind me, more and more aunties arriving. Every time I tried to turn my head to see whether Nani had arrived yet, Claire sharply yanked my head back.
A few aunties came by and said their hellos, offered me tea or juice, and then quickly disappeared again. I could hear everyone fussing over Shay on the opposite end of the room, her fake placating voice agreeing to every suggestion as they tied her sari, ensured every curl was perfectly pinned onto her head. I laughed to myself, and wished Claire would hurry up. I reached up and felt my hair, but only half of it was curled and pinned back—the other half still in a limp mess by my shoulders.
“Is there a problem?” Claire snapped.
“Just wondering how much longer.” I smiled. “I still have to put on my sari.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, next time tell the bride not to make the wedding so goddamn early.”
“It wasn’t her choice,” I said softly, although Claire had already stopped listening.
I could feel the room filling up even more; it was becoming fiercely hot, and I regretted not changing out of my flannel pajamas and bathrobe before everyone arrived.