The Trouble with Hating You

by Sajni Patel

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Because I’m a man, and all we want is to try to get into your pants?” he asked from behind the flowers, which made me crack a smile because he looked so ridiculous.

  “I’m joking, you know?” he added.

  I cleared my throat, mainly because I didn’t want to laugh when I responded, “I know.”

  “Why am I still holding these?” He set the basket down. The tips of the ferns and baby’s breath reached his knees. “Why don’t you wait here, and I’ll bring my car around?”

  I nodded. Within a few minutes, the basket was in Jay’s back seat, I buckled myself into the front seat, and we headed to the closest hospital, the one where Preeti worked. To elude conversation with Jay, I texted Preeti, and she met us outside of the ER.

  “These are gorgeous!” she exclaimed as Jay pulled out the basket. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about the size.”

  “Good thing I warned you, right?” I said.

  “Right.” She glanced at Jay and then gave me a curious look as he set the basket on a cart, which an orderly pushed through the automatic sliding double glass doors for us. “What are you two up to?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just a quick trip since Sana has my car.”

  “All right, well, call me later. I want to know all about…where these flowers came from. Nice seeing you again, Jay.”

  “You, too, Preeti. Have a good one.”

  She waved as we slipped back into the car and drove off. I hoped he wouldn’t start up a conversation, and I even pretended to check my phone for missed messages.

  He eventually commented, “Shilpa will be delivering in that hospital.”

  “That’s nice. It’s a very good hospital with high-rated staff. Preeti loves working there.”

  “Preeti is one of the medical residents at Shilpa’s doctor’s office.”

  “Are you excited about becoming an uncle?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned, and his perfectly cut profile shot up three hotness levels.

  “Do you, uh, like babies?” I made a face, partly surprised at the fact that he might like kids but also partly disgusted because babies were so…messy.

  “You make it sound like they’re snakes. I don’t mind kids. I’m not especially fond of them, but it’s different when they’re your niece or nephew.”

  “Shilpa and Jahn don’t know if it’s a boy or girl yet?”

  “They want it to be a surprise, but they caved and are finding out soon. She’s revealing it at their baby shower.”

  “That’s sweet. You must be excited.”

  “I am. This will be the first grandbaby on both sides. Ma is ecstatic.”

  “What about your dad?”

  He tensed, his voice a little lower when he replied, “He passed away.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” I bit my lip, my heart stammering. I hoped that didn’t sour his mood. I didn’t know the details, although I was curious. All I could do was apologize. I never knew what to say to those who had lost someone. I didn’t even know how long ago his father’s passing had been to know where to begin.

  He didn’t say anything after that. Which should’ve been fine by me, but tension over his dad’s death wasn’t something that settled without any afterthought. Jay went quiet, his brows knitted and his lips pressed together as if he were in deep thought. I really wanted to ask, but it was absolutely not my business. What happened to him? He must’ve passed away recently for a grown man to shut down after one mention. Especially when Jay seemed as upset as he was saddened.

  We approached my street, and I quietly said, “You can just pull up to the front.”

  He eased out of the tension and offered, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled up to the curb, only a few feet from the steps up to the lobby. I opened the door and shifted to the side in order to put all of my weight on my good foot first. Before climbing out, I said, “Thank you.”

  “No problem. I don’t live that far from here, so it’s not out of my way.”

  I slowly added, “I mean, also, for last night. I didn’t thank you for that.”

  The rigidity of his shoulders relaxed. “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do. You helped when I pushed you away. You did a lot for someone you don’t even like.”

  “I don’t not like you.”

  I smiled and he grinned. As in a full, all-out grin. The kind that reached his eyes and made little wrinkles at the corners. He had a multitude of faces, from stern and unyielding to irritating and cocky. But for once, he turned his true face to me, the kind and happy one—the face I’d seen him wear at mandir with his family. I wondered what other faces he had, and if the rest of them were as easy to look at as this one.

  “Maybe we can be friends,” he suggested.

  “Friendly?”

  “That works, too.”

  Once I was inside my apartment, I kicked off my shoes, untucked and unbuttoned my blouse, and slid my pants right off.

  A soft tune escaped my lips as I poured a glass of wine in my undergarments and drew a hot bubble bath. I stripped down to nothing, stepped in, sank down, and sighed as the stress and exhaustion of the workday melted away. After today, I didn’t mind having nothing else to entertain myself with than a good book.

  And an onslaught of text messages.

  Preeti: I’m home. Tell me everything! Why were you driving around with Jay? I thought you hated him! Did HE give you those gorgeous flowers?

  Sana: How’d you get home? Sorry it would’ve taken me so long to get you.

  Reema: Okay, seriously. Jay. What is up with that? And yes, Preeti and I are tag-teaming you!

  Unknown Number: Hi, Liya! I hope this is the right number. And I hope you don’t mind that I got it from Jay, but this is Shilpa. I didn’t get a chance to give you an invitation to my baby shower. It’s on the fifteenth. Hope you can make it. I’m sending it with Jay.

  I took my time replying to everyone over the following hour, with Preeti, Reema, and Sana all in group text to save myself. All the details sent them into an emoticon-and-upper-case frenzy. No matter how many times I told them to calm down, that Jay and I were nothing more than slightly friendlier than what they’d seen at mandir, they wouldn’t stop.

  I then added Shilpa’s contact information and replied that I would be happy to attend her shower.

  As water drained out of the tub, and I stepped out and dried off, my phone screen lit up with a text message from Jay.

  I wrinkled my nose. He did realize we weren’t friends, right?

  Curiosity got the better of me, and it took a great deal of effort to wait until I had changed into pajamas and started dinner before checking the message.

  Jay: I gave Shilpa your number. Hope that’s okay. She wanted to invite you to her baby shower.

  Me: Did you have something to do with that?

  Jay: No. It’s not MY baby shower. She’d wanted to invite you since she met you.

  There was nothing more to say. Still, I was tempted to give his contact info a picture. Apparently, I had plenty to choose from among Momma’s many pictures sent via WhatsApp. Although only my friends had rummaged through his excellently selected pictures, I scrolled through them and admired Jay for all his irritating beauty. Finally, I assigned a picture to his name. Not the professional one, no matter how nice his suit. Not the one of him in a sherwani playing garba. But one of him walking down a street in plain jeans and an ordinary shirt. A formfitting shirt. The laid-back style, easygoing smile, and sparkling eyes in that photo were something that would make me pause every time his name popped up on my phone screen.

  I sat down to my meal when my phone lit up again.

  Jay: Are you going?

  Okay, so maybe he was confused as to the difference between “friendly” and “friends.”

  Jay: You should go.

  Me: Why?

 
Jay: Because Shilpa is nice and it would mean a lot to her. You know, if you’re not busy that day.

  I couldn’t help it, and once I recalled his venomous words, a familiar pang in my chest sprouted to life.

  Me: I thought I wasn’t good enough to be her friend.

  Calling someone out like that would’ve made any other guy leave me alone, but in a matter of seconds, he replied.

  Jay: I’m sorry I said that.

  Me: Don’t be sorry for saying what you mean.

  Jay: We both misjudged each other. Can we leave it at that?

  I chewed on the inside of my lip.

  Me: I guess.

  Jay: Is this you admitting that you misjudged me and I’m not so bad after all?

  Me: Um, no. This is me saying I accept you admitting that you misjudged me.

  Jay: Well, maybe one day you’ll tell me why you bailed.

  Me: Are we about to get into a texting argument?

  Jay: Only if you’re bored and want to spend the evening arguing with me.

  Damn it. Why was I smiling?

  My fingers twitched over the touch screen.

  Well…I was kind of bored…and I didn’t have anything better to do…and arguing was in my nature.

  Me: Let me explain something to you, Jayesh Shah.

  Jay: Hit me with your best excuse, Liya Thakkar.

  “Ha!” I said aloud, my laughter filling the quiet.

  Me: I was absolutely ambushed. My father is trying his hardest to marry me off, despite telling him I’m not interested. That dinner was supposed to be just me and my parents. I was vexed when you showed up, all ready to propose.

  Jay: Propose! I hardly knew you. What type of man did you think I was?

  Me: Honestly?

  Jay: Do I expect anything less than honesty from you?

  I shook my head and smiled. Or maybe I hadn’t stopped grinning this entire time. What was this guy doing to me?

  Me: I thought you were some jackass.

  Jay: Because of traditionally approaching you…or…?

  Me: That and smiling at me.

  Jay: I sort of figured. And noted. Never smile at Liya Thakkar.

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to conjure up some witty remark. But nothing came to me. All I knew was that I never wanted Jay to hide his smile from me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jay

  The sound of steel clanking against steel echoed through the weights section of the gym, and drowned out the swish of the cardio equipment on the floor above us. The only thing I concentrated on were the breaths that huffed out of my chest with each thrust of the bar, pushing my limits so I could feel the burn sear through my arms.

  Jahn popped up behind me to spot so that the massive amount of weight wouldn’t sever my head with an accidental slip. After my set, I sat up, heaved out a breath, and wiped sweat off my face with a towel. We moved on to machine weights.

  “Missed you yesterday. I don’t know anyone here to ask to spot, so I ended up doing cardio,” Jahn commented, our eyes locked on our images on the wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor mirrors.

  “Liya had me up all night.”

  His head swerved in my direction and he froze. “Say what?”

  “I mean she had me up all night arguing.”

  He shook his head and did a few reps. “Was it worth it? Missed the gym, probably went to work tired, all stressed out. Why are you even talking to her? Thought you hated her.”

  “She’s not that bad.”

  “Even if you were arguing all night? And what exactly were you arguing about?”

  “Why she ditched the dinner with me.”

  “Okay.” He stopped. “Why? May the mystery of the vanishing arranged could’ve-been fiancée be solved.”

  “She doesn’t want to get married.”

  “And that was reason enough to leave?”

  “Her side of the story is that she’s been arguing with her parents about settling down. She told them she didn’t want to meet me, and nothing against me personally, but she went to her parents’ house under the impression they just wanted her over for dinner. She didn’t realize her parents ambushed her until we walked into the house.”

  “Still not a good enough reason to bolt the way she did.” He shrugged. Jahn wasn’t wrong. No argument there.

  “My thoughts exactly. At the least excuse yourself or go through the dinner and let me know on the side.”

  “No. She couldn’t have sat through dinner; that would’ve just led Ma on. But she could’ve excused herself and saved her parents the embarrassment.”

  “You see how the argument started.” I shook my head, exasperated. Liya and I had two sides to the same story, and we couldn’t find a middle ground.

  “Yes. But why did it last all night? What else did you guys possibly have to talk about? She doesn’t want to get married. She was duped into the meeting. She ran. You didn’t agree with how she handled it. That’s about two minutes’ worth of conversation,” he said, and we switched places.

  “Then we got into it over her ideas of what she thinks Indian men want in a wife, because, as you know, we’re all the same.”

  “That could go on forever, but the question I’m really wondering is why did you let it go on all night?”

  “It’s hard not to argue back with her.” I grunted with another push on my machine, working my pecs.

  Jahn smirked. “Maybe you like her.”

  I shook my head before my brother got the wrong idea. “She’s tolerable.”

  “So, then, why are you so agitated?”

  “She asked about Dad,” I admitted with an annoyed sigh.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” We switched machines, Jahn on the chest press while I worked on triceps.

  “And she probed?” Jahn asked, watching me more intently than I wanted.

  “No. She didn’t ask anything else. Why would she?”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “She got me thinking about Dad, more than usual, that is. So now I’m pissed.” Not to mention it reminded me that I didn’t deserve a happy ending with a wife and kids of my own. Not when I took Dad’s happy ending from him.

  Jahn sighed in that brother, we’re about to have a talk sort of way. Resting his hands on his thighs, he bent at the waist. But I kept going, pushed harder, added more weights even when I strained.

  “Calm down,” he said, “before you hurt yourself. Don’t take what happened so hard after all these years.”

  I slammed the weights down, almost snapping my elbows. “Are you joking? Don’t take it so hard? Our dad died.”

  Jahn, always the tempered one between the two of us, replied compassionately, “Yeah, I know, but he died over fifteen years ago. I expect Ma to still mourn, but not so much us anymore.”

  I scoffed. “Did Dad die because of you?”

  “God.” Jahn shook his head. “You still blame yourself for what happened?”

  I gawked at him. “Are you kidding me? I am the reason he died.” I sprang to my feet and returned to the free weights, claiming a bench to use forty-pound dumbbells.

  Jahn waited about five minutes before grabbing a free weight for himself, allowing me some time to calm down. “You’re not the only one who had to deal with his death.”

  “How are you even able to look at me and not hate me?”

  “You think I blame you? Or hate you?” He eyed me, his features relaxed, kind. We’d had this talk a hundred times. It had been intense at first, mixed with tears and anger and frustration. Over time, Jahn ended up always being the calming one.

  As for me? Anger still rose. Rage coated my insides and bubbled through my words. “Of course you do. Maybe you never said it or showed it, but you have to think it.”

  “You’re being an idiot,” he said a little harshly to drive the point home.

  “So you have no resentment toward me?”

  “No. I honestly do not. Never have.”

 
I wiped my brow with my arm but kept pumping. By now, my arms had turned to rubber noodles, but I kept going.

  “We were all devastated. We still miss him. Especially Ma. I had to become the man of the house to support us, and still go to college to honor our parents and be able to take care of you and Ma,” Jahn said.

  “I’m grateful. Believe me. But didn’t you wish that you could just enjoy life?”

  Jahn replied, “It’s my honor. Remember that word? It’s what our parents taught us. We don’t blame people or hate situations. We deal, accept, move on, and make the best of it. We’re fine now. Why? Because we remained strong and kept focused. It was hard, but worth it. I had the honor of taking care of my family and still getting my degree. I married an amazing woman and we’re about to have a child. You got through law school. Dad wanted us to live our best lives, be happy. That’s how we can honor him. We always had a meal in our bellies, right? A roof over our heads? Love in our home?”

  “Yes,” I answered. Jahn had a different way of looking at things. Was being happy a way to honor Dad? It felt more like betrayal.

  “I hate that he died. I hate how it happened. I hate that you blame yourself and think we blame you, too. What Dad was…he was a hero. If we end up being half the man he was, we’ll be lucky. You know what I mean?”

  I sighed. “Yeah.”

  “You just saying that? Or do you believe it?” He grabbed my head and put me in a headlock.

  I grappled with him, and he let go real quick. “Yeah. Yeah. I believe you. You wouldn’t lie, right? Even to spare my feelings?”

  “I’m not lying. You know me too well for that. Are we cool?” Jahn asked with raised brows and a hint of a smile.

  I mumbled, “Yeah.”

  “That doesn’t sound convincing. Do I have to put you into another headlock?” he joked.