The Trouble with Hating You

by Sajni Patel

  “Where are we?” she asked when I pulled into a parking lot.

  “The park.”

  “Isn’t it dangerous at night?”

  “Not here. Come on.” I pulled her out of her seat and grabbed a blanket from the trunk before trekking through the soft grass.

  “You always keep a blanket in your car?”

  “Yeah, for emergencies. Never know when you might need it. Food, water, first-aid kit, too.”

  “Oh!” she grunted and caught my arm as one of her heels pierced the soft dirt and sank.

  “You should take those off.”

  “And walk around barefoot? Hello? Ever heard of hookworms and tetanus?”

  “Ever heard of snapping your ankles as you fall flat on your face in the dark?” I asked as I squatted in front of her and slipped her foot out of the high heels.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped, tumbling forward and grabbing onto my shoulders for support.

  “Removing your obstacles.”

  She landed a bare foot on the grass as I undid the other shoe. “So now I get tetanus?”

  I looked up at her, my hands lightly stroking her ankles up to her calves. “You worry too much.”

  “It’s a real risk. Ask Preeti.”

  I stood slowly, moving up her body, and hovered above her.

  “How…how far are we walking?” she asked.

  “To the river.”

  “In the dark?”

  I nodded and handed her the shoes.

  “Took these off and you won’t even carry them?”

  “I’ll carry them,” I replied, swooped down, and threw her over the blanket on my shoulder.

  Liya yelped. “Put me down!”

  “So you can get tetanus?” I asked and walked toward the river.

  She laughed. “I hate you!”

  “You love it.”

  She slapped my butt and then poked her pointy elbows into my shoulder as she arched her back. “Enjoying the view of my backside from over there?”

  I slid my hand up the back of her thighs and tugged her dress down to keep her covered.

  “This isn’t so bad,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She slapped my butt again. “Giddyap!”

  “All right. You asked for it.”

  Her next words were swallowed up in a scream as I took off at a full sprint.

  She gripped my shirt, clutching for my waist, as the breeze broke around us. I ran the short distance to the riverside in no time, slowing only when the moonlit gleam on the water’s surface appeared.

  I placed Liya on the grass, but she swayed away. I grabbed her by the waist to steady her and chuckled. “Are you okay?”

  “You try doing that upside down.”

  After laying out the blanket, we sat arm to arm and watched the ripples on the water. Sitting soon turned into lying down. My head rested on my hand while Liya constantly shifted to get comfortable on the ground.

  “Never been camping, have you?”

  “Camping’s disgusting,” she retorted.

  “Here.” I slid my arm beneath her waist and hoisted her against me so that she was on her side, her cheek against my chest. “How’s that?”

  “Better,” she muttered.

  After a minute, her rigidity faded, and her hand snaked over my stomach to find a comfortable resting position.

  The stars twinkled around sparse, slow-moving clouds. The full moon shone bright. Crickets chirped in soothing harmony, a ballad of nature in the middle of a sleeping city.

  “I had a good time tonight,” I admitted.

  “Me, too.”

  “Are we doing this again?”

  “I hope so,” she said.

  “Do you want to come to mandir tomorrow?”

  “And worship with you? Be still my heart.” She laughed.

  “That would be nice.”

  “I’m never going to be a religious girl. Does that bother you?” she asked.

  “Honestly, I’m not that into it, either. I go for Ma, and it’s family time.”

  “That’s sweet. But I still don’t want to go.”

  “I actually meant in the afternoon. We have a basketball tournament.”

  “Oh. Maybe. Do you want me there?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Okay.”

  My competitive side roared to life during the three-game tournament. Sure, we were just a bunch of men from temple competing for a non-trophy, non-glory spot, but it didn’t mean that we didn’t go for it. But, since the game was held at mandir, we left the trash talk at home.

  On the benches, the other teams watched along with friends and family. In the throngs of colorful clothes and sweaty jerseys sat Liya. She watched me with her head turned toward Reema, whispering and giggling. I knew she was throwing her don’t-care wall back up in this place. But that didn’t stop her from cheering when we made points or getting into the game.

  In the end, we won, but it didn’t matter. Not because this was a friendly tournament, but because all of my focus was on the woman who rose in the parting crowds.

  Kaajal appeared in my peripheral vision, but I made a beeline up the benches to Liya. She crossed her arms and hinted at a smile. “Congratulations.”

  “Oh, that? That was nothing. I’m just a beast.” I grinned.

  “A beast against non-athletes. I could’ve won. In my heels.”

  “Ah, you think that’s funny?” I teased and swiped a sweaty forearm against her dry, smooth arm.

  “Ew!” She jokingly gagged and wiped the sweat on my shirt, which just made her sweatier.

  I laughed.

  “Disgusting.”

  She sucked in a breath when I made the last step and stood in front of her, heat exploding around us, my blood raging, my adrenaline still pumping on high. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  I cocked an eyebrow, parting my lips to say something smart-mouthed, when Mukesh Uncle cleared his throat at the bottom of the near empty bleachers.

  “Your admiring groupie,” Liya muttered. “Listen, I need to practice dance with the girls for Reema and Rohan’s reception. I’ll talk to you later.” She trotted down the bleachers without another word, throwing serious evil eye at Uncle, who responded in kind. The hostility between the two was so thick, I could’ve choked.

  I met the elder at the bottom, snatching my towel and water bottle. As I guzzled, he said, “Nice game.”

  “Thank you, uncle.”

  “Since we’re practically alone, I wanted to inquire on your thoughts about any interest in Kaajal.”

  I sputtered. Well, that was certainly direct. “I never thought about it.”

  “Really? When we met at Shilpa’s baby shower, I thought you were aware of our intentions. Your mother said you were available and that she’d discuss it with you.”

  Every time I saw Ma, she either chatted with Liya during our family meals or earnestly prayed at mandir, and everything in between except bringing up Kaajal. We hadn’t discussed Liya, but Ma must’ve known with the regularity of having her at weekly dinners that something was happening between us.

  I dragged the towel down my face and neck. “I appreciate the consideration, but I’m not interested.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  I shrugged. “Your daughter’s lovely, respected, accomplished, and any man will be lucky to marry her, but at this point, I’m not drawn to her.”

  Something changed in his appearance: a narrowing of the eyes, a flare of the nostrils, a clench of the jaw? Something that skewed his polite features. “I understand that at one time, Pranad Thakkar presented Liya.”

  I nodded, not particularly happy about his venturing into my personal life.

  “You speak to her often?” he inquired.

  “Yes.”

  He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if speaking to a child in need of much discipline. “You should be aware—”

  “I’m aware,” I interru
pted.

  “That she has quite the negative reputation? And you continue to talk to her? If you know, then did she refute or acknowledge her behavior?”

  “She told me what I needed to know.”

  “You must be careful not to fall into her traps.”

  “What traps?” I snapped.

  “If you know her reputation, then you know what I mean. It would be unfortunate to be sullied by her.”

  “While I appreciate your concern, I think you should focus more on bringing people to God rather than gossip.”

  That was the end of that…for about ten minutes.

  When I caught Mukesh Uncle talking to Ma, inciting varying levels of alarm and embarrassment in her, I stormed toward them.

  “If you can just speak to Jay, help him see reason,” he said.

  “Speak to me about what?” I asked, trying to remain calm.

  He spun around, his face a combination of dark brown and bright red. “I was suggesting that your mother speak to you about reconsidering Kaajal.”

  “Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

  “You’re a young man, brash and not seeing the future, someone who benefits from the mature advice from his trusted mother. She has one son taken care of. Only one left.”

  “Don’t harass my mother,” I said, irritated.

  “Beta,” Ma warned.

  He backed away. “I only meant for you to consider Kaajal.”

  “Seeing that you and I already discussed this, we have nothing else to say.”

  He shook his head and glanced at Ma with a look that said, What sort of rude son did you raise?

  I stepped in between them, and stared at him until he turned from us.

  Before facing Ma, I released a breath and then apologized for whatever he said that made her upset.

  “What did he say?” I asked calmly.

  Ma replied, “He wants me to encourage you to marry Kaajal.”

  “What else?”

  She looked at my feet.

  I lifted her chin with my finger and leaned down. “You can tell me anything,” I said gently.

  “He warned me about Liya.”

  “What exactly did he say?”

  “That she’s a rude, hardheaded girl who does nothing but argue. She’s not marriage material, or good daughter-in-law material. She’s…very American,” she whispered.

  I didn’t need any further explanation to know what “American” meant. It meant Liya wore revealing clothes, partied, drank, had sex, cursed, everything anti-traditional. I kept my fists from clenching, kept my body from tensing. Was Ma traditional? Yes. But not close-minded, not judgmental, not persuaded by gossip.

  Unfortunately, Liya’s words echoed through my thoughts. Of course I’d support Liya and stand up for her no matter what. I’d like to believe that Ma would, too. But Liya worried that such a sweet woman like Ma would get the short end of the stick and have to deal with all of this. Was she right? Or would Ma back Liya up?

  I knew Ma better than anyone. “I’m sorry if that upsets you. Are you okay?”

  She nodded and touched my arm. “Beta, I’d already heard this about her.”

  “You have?”

  “Mukesh had mentioned this to me months ago when I told him about meeting Liya and her parents. He advised against it.”

  “I’m confused. If you heard so much negativity about Liya, then why did we go to her house to meet with her and her parents?”

  “Because you never judge someone based on rumors. This girl hadn’t hurt us. I haven’t seen her doing any of the things he claimed.”

  I released a pent-up, anxious breath. God, I loved Ma. Now if only everyone else around here would have her logical point of view. “What do you think of her now?”

  “After the debacle of our dinner, of course I felt humiliated. And what sort of girl would do such a thing to her parents? But she apologized as soon as she saw me at mandir. Her behavior at the dinner was brash, but her way of apologizing was mature. She’s been a very sweet girl, although honest and forthright, but since when is honesty a bad thing? I’ve seen her angry, that time you fought outside your apartment during dinner. She’s not perfect, but she’s human, and a good person. She’s full of life. Otherwise I would not have her at our dinners and I would’ve told you to leave her alone.”

  “Does it bother you that our community thinks the worst of her?”

  She took my hands in hers. “I trust my son. You’ve always made good decisions, made me proud. So if you see enough good in her to be with her, then who cares what others say? You’re with her, not with all these fickle, judgmental people,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “So you don’t care?”

  She waved in Mukesh Uncle’s general direction. “What I don’t care for is some man talking to me like that, telling me what to do with my sons.”

  I chuckled. I loved that Ma didn’t take any crap. Oftentimes, I was so occupied with protecting Ma that I forgot just how strong a woman she was.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Liya

  Are you and Jay still talking?” Reema asked as she stuffed noodles into her mouth with chopsticks. She sat on the floor across from me, eating her dinner on the coffee table in my living room.

  “Yes,” I replied, and she stared at me.

  “Uh, okay, well, do tell. God, it’s like prying teeth with you. You’ve never closed up about a guy before. You’re usually very…graphic…”

  I laughed, and Reema added, “Are you two dating? Friends? Thinking about something serious? What? Have you had sex?”

  “No,” I admitted, feeling heat prickle my neck.

  “Because…?”

  “He’s different.”

  “He seems more traditional. As in serious. He doesn’t seem like the fling type. I’m guessing if he had sex with you, things would have to be very serious, like impending engagement and wedding serious, and holy crap, he’s madly in love with you serious.”

  “You’re right, which is why we’re never doing it. I’m still waiting for him to change his mind about me.”

  “Why do you say that? You’re a true catch, Liya. Brains, beauty, independence, street smarts, you can take care of yourself. Are you worried about him finding out about all the guys you’ve been with?”

  “He knows. Not as if six partners is a lot these days.”

  “It is if you’re traditional. I’m not that traditional, and I’ve only ever been with Rohan, but god forbid if our parents found out.”

  “Jay definitely isn’t a virgin or a hypocrite. He’s worried about my view of healthy relationships. Look, I’m straightforward. I told him a little bit about the assault, how things could get messy for him and his family. It didn’t deter him. I honestly think he’ll wake up one day and think I’m not worth the trouble.”

  “Wow. I’ve never heard you doubt yourself. You must really like him to have told him about the assault. And he handled it well. He’s a keeper.”

  I shrugged. “He’s looking for seriousness, long-term, marriage material. I’m not that girl. But I was honest and upfront with him, and he’s fun and sweet and I like having him around, so I’ll keep it going until he walks away.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “I’m sure he will. He’ll eventually want a wife, and I’m not a wife.”

  Reema leaned forward. “Not that being a wife is the ultimate goal in life, but being a wife for someone like Jay means you two love one another and want no one else. You know you’ll work through your problems. It’s not always perfect, but you’re committed and comfortable. You might even have kids. You become one. There’s no force on the planet that can pry you apart. That’s what I think, anyway, when it comes to marriage. In which case, you are definitely wifey material. And for the record, you are absolutely worth whatever trouble you think you’re giving him.”

  I smiled, my chest warming up and tears prickling my eyes. “Shut up,” I managed to joke.

  “No. We, your friend
s, all see it because we all see the real you. And he sees the same thing.”

  I rolled my eyes, pretending that my friend’s view of me wasn’t heartwarming or tear-jerking.

  “Want some advice?” she asked.

  “Unsolicited advice is the best!” I said sarcastically with a toothy grin.

  She flicked a piece of shredded lettuce at me, and I dug it out of my hair.

  “Let yourself go and just see where this takes you. Fall in love,” she said.

  “Are you out of your mind? Love will lead to heartbreak.”

  “It doesn’t have to. Is Jay worth it, Liya?”

  I shrugged, but I wanted to yell, “Yes! Oh, god, yes! He is worth everything to me right now!” And that freaked the crap out of me.

  “So let’s assume that’s Liya talk for ‘yes, he is.’ I’ve never known you to not go after what you want. Where’s the determination?”

  I shrugged.

  “Or are you scared?”

  “Me? Scared? Ha!”

  “Oooh…Liya’s afraid of some good loving!” She giggled and lightened the mood.

  “Shut up!” I laughed and tossed a pillow at her.

  “If Jay likes standoffish you, imagine how hard he’d fall for you if there are no bars holding you back. I want to see that: all fire and passion and heart.”

  My face flared up, and I couldn’t understand why. “How about we discuss what’s going down this weekend for your bachelorette party?”

  “No. Let’s talk more about Jay!”

  “Hey! Did I tell you that we’re going to a strip club?”

  “No! Liya, no, you promised.”

  I grinned. Oh, how easy it was to derail her with the right topic. “Then let’s talk about this party, shall we?”

  “Ugh, fine, but afterward, back to Jay. What are we doing?”

  “Swanky club, may or may not have strippers.”

  “Rohan is going to kill me.” She slouched and pushed around her food, but then she giggled.

  “What happens at the club stays at the club. Listen, the bridal shower begins at six with all the aunties and moms and whatever. Gujarati finger foods, pretty cake, nonalcoholic bubbly drinks, presents, you know, classy. That should end at nine. Kick those old biddies out, slip out of our nice saris and bangles and put on some short dresses and high heels, and hit the club at ten.”