From Twinkle, With Love

by Sandhya Menon

  But in the end, all I said to Sahil was, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  His face sagged a little, like I’d let him down. “Yeah. See ya.”

  I feel like I’m in some Alice in Wonderland production where I can’t tell what’s right and what’s wrong, what’s up and what’s down. Is it wrong for me to get mad at Lewis’s obviously sexist comments? At the fact that he wasn’t taking it seriously? I don’t think so. But I think I took it too far. I shouldn’t have said those things about his dad. I know that. It was wrong. The truth is, I have power for the first time in my life. And I can’t seem to stop it from going to my head. It scares me, Mira. I don’t want to turn into someone I hate. But I also don’t know what to do about it.

  Love,

  Twinkle

  Friday, June 19

  Honors Calculus

  Dear Nora Ephron,

  Today we got a nice little reprieve from the horror that is calculus. Mrs. Smith told us we could go to the library to “research one prominent figure in the field” (really she had a head cold and just wanted us out of her hair, I think). I was kids-cartoon-character-level happy. I mean, any day that I don’t have to spend cooped up in a classroom under fluorescent lights learning about open versus closed intervals is a good day.

  Then, on impulse, I decided to check my e-mail. I mean, today was the day. The day N and I were meeting at Perk. I’d been feeling this low level of excitement/nerves all day, but that was all it was: a low level. I figured rereading his old e-mails might make me feel something more. And when I logged in to my account, I had one new e-mail from late last night. Pasted below.

  To: twinkiefilmfan@urmail.com

  From: binadmiringyou@urmail.com

  Subject: Perk

  Hi Twinkle,

  I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can meet you at Perk today. I will explain soon. I hope you can forgive me.

  —N

  That was it. That’s all he said. Not even the courtesy of a plausible excuse! What the heck? Am I not even worth an “I’ve got swimmer’s ear” or “My house is on fire”??

  I sat there and stared at the e-mail for the longest time, feeling my cheeks burning. I could feel the rage bubbling up again. First Lewis, now N? Did Neil think I was another disposable girl from the long line snaking outside his door? Did he feel that, as a groundling, I should just be grateful for any attention he threw my way? I may have flown off the handle with Lewis, but I felt fully justified in my anger toward N now. Here’s the thing: I was a freaking filmmaker. I was a director. I had talent, and I was out to change the world. I did not deserve to be treated this way and I wouldn’t stand for it anymore.

  I balled my fists on the table in frustration. And then I pounded out a reply.

  To: binadmiringyou@urmail.com

  From: twinkiefilmfan@urmail.com

  Subject: Re: Perk

  Fine, N. We don’t have to meet. I want you to know, though—this is totally uncool. You do not just cancel on someone at the last minute. What if I hadn’t seen your e-mail? And what sort of a non-explanation is “I’ll explain soon”? But you know what? If this is how you treat people, good luck ever being happy in life.

  —Twinkle

  I wavered a second before hitting send, but then I did and sat back, breathing hard. Neil had to know I wouldn’t stand for his crap. I wasn’t that person anymore.

  Friday, June 19

  My room

  Dear Haifaa al-Mansour,

  I was in a bad mood when I got home. I mean, I had planned to go downtown to the library and hang out reading romance novels to put me in the mood until it was time to meet N at Perk. But instead I’d ridden the bus home and had a whole afternoon of hanging out with Dadi to look forward to.

  I walked in the door and Dadi looked up from her book (Who Moved My Tofu?) and immediately said, “Uh-oh, someone has a thundercloud face.”

  I glared at her and walked to the kitchen to get a snack. “I do not.” Outside, Maggie the dog was barking her little head off, probably pining for Oso. “Does that dog ever shut up?” I slammed the drawer shut after I got a spoon for my yogurt.

  Dadi waited till I was back in the living room to respond. She had set her book aside and was watching me with her head cocked. “Are you all right, Twinkle?”

  “Fine. I’m just gonna be in my room.”

  “But there’s a documentary film I thought we could watch together,” Dadi said. “The TV guide said it’s ‘essential viewing for anyone interested in a career in films.’”

  I sighed. “No offense, Dadi, but I think I know everything about what a career in films entails. I don’t need to watch some documentary made for laypeople. Okay?”

  Dadi shook her head. “Ghamand achcha nahin hota, Twinkle. Arrogance is not a worthwhile friend.”

  I threw my hands up. “God, I’m so tired of hearing that. I’m not arrogant! I just know that I’m good. Okay? For the first time in my life, my self-esteem doesn’t resemble rotting roadkill. Why can’t everyone just let me be?” I stalked off to my room and closed the door.

  I felt immediately sorry Dadi had become collateral damage; I’ve never spoken to her that way. But I’d spent my entire life feeling less than those other people at school. And now I was finally in a position to call the shots. Why was everyone in such a hurry to take that away from me? It’s so messed up! Do they think I’m just going to stand idly by and let them walk all over me?

  Love,

  Twinkle

  Saturday, June 20

  Sahil’s car

  Dear Jane Campion,

  Sahil and I made a plan that he’d pick me up at six o’clock. There was no way Papa, Mummy, and Dadi were going to allow me to go to an unchaperoned party at someone’s parents’ cabin in Aspen, so I was a little nervous about what I should say. Would they believe I was going to a sleepover at Maddie’s? She hadn’t slept over at my house in a long time. And Papa would be sure to drop me off at Maddie’s house, so should I have Sahil pick me up there? Would that be too weird since Maddie and I weren’t even on speaking terms?

  But in the end, I didn’t have to worry about it. Papa took an extra shift at the youth home, Mummy wasn’t home (she sometimes goes off on these day trips by herself and no one knows where she is), and Dadi went to some drum circle conference thingy with her friends from the Dharamshala Temple and told me she wouldn’t be back till late.

  I dressed in my glittery black skirt, my Sofia Coppola T-shirt (it has her picture and a quote that says, I’M ALWAYS A SUCKER FOR A LOVE STORY), and my DIY glitter Keds. My camera bag banged on my hip as I walked past Oso, who was curled up on the couch—sleeping on sentry duty. He picked up his head, but when he saw I didn’t have any food, he huffed and lay back down. I took one look around the empty house before I opened the front door. It wasn’t that I was lonely, exactly. It was more like I was missing someone without even knowing who I was missing.

  I walked out the driveway just as Sahil’s SUV rolled up. “Hey,” I said, pulling the door open and hopping in. I glanced at him, wondering if things would still be prickly between us after what had happened with Lewis. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Sure, no worries.” He looked super cute, I noticed in spite of myself, dressed in a Cabin in the Woods T-shirt and dark-wash jeans. I smirked, trying for a joke to taste the air between us. “Are you trying to freak everyone out with that T-shirt or what?”

  He laughed. “Just trying to be on theme, T.”

  I leaned back against the seat, relieved. Sahil, at least, seemed to be past the weirdness that had happened at Victoria’s house. The others had still been subdued when we’d filmed the next day, but at least they’d all shown up, said their lines, and acted well. That was all I needed. I could deal with them thinking I was a pompous freak if they’d just play their roles like I told them to. I suspect every great director has had to deal with that at some point. And as long as I still had Sahil and my new friends, what did I care what Maddie or the others thought? />
  “So, you ready for the most epic road trip of all time?” Sahil asked, grinning at me as he pulled onto the interstate.

  “Urgh. I’m more the type of person who just falls asleep waiting for the road trip to be over,” I said. “Being stuck in a metal bullet hurtling alongside other metal bullets at eighty miles per hour is not my idea of fun.”

  Sahil snorted. “You know what I like about you? Your refreshing view on life.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to have to start charging you for my gems. Anyway, I don’t think that’s ‘refreshing’ so much as an accurate, objective observation.”

  “Okay, but you’ve never been on a road trip with me as your guide. That’s what the problem is. I promise, by the time we get to Aspen, you’re going to be begging me to go on another road trip with you.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Challenge accepted.”

  Sahil grinned. “Okay, so the first thing we’re going to do?”

  “Yes?”

  “Reach in that bag behind your seat.”

  I did as he asked, and found a plastic grocery bag. When I pulled it into the front seat with me, I found a bag of Cow Tales, some Doritos in assorted flavors, and a bag of Reese’s Mini Peanut Butter Cups. Grinning, I pulled those out. “Oh, yeah. Thank you.”

  Sahil reached for the Cow Tales. I tried not to notice that his fingers accidentally brushed against my bare thigh. But obviously I noticed. What am I supposed to do? Get rid of all the nerve endings in my body? “The first rule of road tripping is—”

  “There is no road trip?” I hazarded as I unwrapped my first PB Cup.

  “Nooo … the first rule is, you have to have superior road-tripping snacks. Otherwise you may as well turn around and go home.”

  I chewed the chocolate thoughtfully, letting the fabulous peanut buttery-chocolaty goodness wash over my tongue. “Hmm. I see your point.”

  Sahil bit into his Cow Tale and chewed. “So now we can get to the games.”

  “There are games,” I said as I reached into the bag again. “Of course there are.”

  “Duh. So, you’ve probably heard of the license plate game, yeah?”

  I tried not to groan. Mind-numbing games like that were invented to take your mind off the fact that nearly 3,300 people die in car wrecks every single day in the United States. But they didn’t. If anything, playing the license plate game only made me feel both terrified and like I wanted to jump out of a moving vehicle to escape. “Um, yeah.”

  “Well, we’re not playing that. I mean, what are we, seven?”

  I laughed. “I have to say, little bit relieved.”

  Sahil beamed at me, and it made my traitorous heart stutter. “Instead we’re going to play a game called ‘Did You Hear.’ So, basically, each of us will take turns saying ‘Did you hear that _______?’ and we’ll fill in the blank with either a truth or a lie. The other person can then either accept the statement as a truth or reject the statement as a lie. If you guess correctly, you get a point. Otherwise the point goes to the other person.”

  I smiled. “So, like, a take on Two Truths and a Lie? I like it.”

  “Sweet. I’ll go first?”

  I nodded.

  Sahil took another bite of his chewy candy and then said, “Hmm. Did you hear that I once ate twelve doughnuts in one sitting?”

  “Twelve??”

  Sahil smirked and nodded. “Accept or reject?”

  “Hmm.” I tapped a finger on my chin and unwrapped another Mini Cup. “On the one hand, twelve seems like it’d send you into a sugar coma. But on the other … I did see you inhale three cookies and then several loaded pancakes like it was nothing. So, I’m gonna say … accept.”

  Sahil laughed. “Yep. You’re right.”

  “Yessss.”

  “Your turn.”

  I stared out the window at the open fields and munching cows zipping past us in the fading light. “Okay,” I said, facing Sahil again and folding my legs up on the seat. “Did you hear that I’m a fantastic singer?”

  Sahil looked at me for a couple seconds, his mouth quirked to one side as he considered. “Hmm … I mean, you do have a beautiful speaking voice, so it makes sense that you’d have a beautiful singing voice.”

  I felt myself flush and concentrated on unwrapping another Mini Cup to distract from it. “So, what’s your answer?”

  “Accept,” Sahil said with finality.

  I nodded solemnly. “I’m gonna demonstrate.” And before I could chicken out, I began to sing “Over the Rainbow.” Well, I say “sing,” but I really mean “croak.” It was weird, but before this, I would never even have dreamed of singing in front of people, let alone a boy I had a crush on. It was like directing this movie had given me so much confidence in myself. It was okay that I wasn’t the best at everything because at least I had one talent that I totally slayed at. You know? Plus, there was just something about Sahil. His eyes were kind and gentle, like he’d never judge me, no matter what I did.

  He began to laugh. “Okay, okay, I get it! I was wrong! Mercy! Mercy! You don’t have to rub it in!”

  I laughed but kept on singing, even louder than before, my voice breaking horribly as I went into the chorus.

  He grinned at me. “I love you.” And his grin abruptly fell off his face.

  Seventeen

  I stopped singing mid-word. I couldn’t do anything but stare at him.

  Sahil glanced at me before looking back at the road. “Did you hear that,” he said quietly, “I’ve only been in love once? It happened when I was eleven. And it’s still happening.”

  I swallowed and shook my head. “Reject.”

  He smiled a little. “One point for me.”

  “Sahil …” I didn’t even know what I was going to say exactly. My heart felt all melty, butterflies were wreaking havoc in my stomach, and I felt scared and exhilarated and like laughing and crying all at the same time.

  “I know,” he said, his voice barely audible, almost covered by the humming of the tires on the road. His big hands gripped the steering wheel loosely. “It’s complicated for you. But, Twinkle, I just wanted you to know it’s not complicated for me.” He glanced at me again, his dark eyes sparkling. “It’s never been complicated for me when it comes to you.” After a pause, he said, “I just want to be honest. I’m not trying to freak you out.”

  He wasn’t freaking me out at all. In fact, I’d been marveling at how brave Sahil was. How unapologetically honest and trusting. I felt a little shift inside me, a softening. Maybe I could let down a wall of my own. “Thank you,” I said finally. “For telling me. For … loving me. I appreciate it more than you know.”

  Sahil nodded.

  “Because … did you hear that my mom doesn’t? Love me, I mean?” I said before I could stop myself. My eyes filled with tears, but I forced myself to not wipe them away.

  Sahil looked at me, startled. “I’m sure that’s not true. Your parents love you. And your dadi. I saw it when I came to visit you.”

  I smiled a little as a tear dripped down my cheek. “One point for me.”

  Sahil reached over and put a hand on mine, squeezing gently.

  I laughed a weird, watery-sounding laugh. “My dadi does love me. And Papa … he loves me in his own way. But you shouldn’t believe everything you see.” I shook my head, not able to speak for a few seconds. My throat was painfully tight.

  “Mummy used to be this talented artist. I still remember her painting banyan trees from her village and red double-decker buses with Indian people spilling out of them. I used to hang out with her behind her chair and just watch. Sometimes she’d dab my nose with her paint to make me laugh.”

  Sahil smiled.

  “Everything changed when my nani got sick,” I said, looking down at Sahil’s hand over mine. A tear splattered onto his skin, but he didn’t move. “My mom’s mom died alone back in India when I was nine. My parents didn’t have the money to visit for the funeral. And after that, Mummy just became completely
withdrawn. It was like every time she looked at me, she remembered the reason my parents came here when my mom was pregnant with me was so I could have a good life. The reason she wasn’t able to go back to India is because my parents spend all their money—and they don’t have much of it—on me. And she’s never forgiven me for it. Sometimes I tell myself that I’ll earn enough to take her back one day soon. But who am I kidding? Most filmmakers don’t make any money at all, let alone someone just starting out. So I’m doomed. We basically don’t have any relationship at all.” I sniffed, and Sahil reached into his center console to hand me a tissue. “Thanks.” I dabbed at my nose. “Wow, sorry to unload on you like that.”

  He rubbed my back and then put his hand back on the wheel. “I’m glad you did. And I’m … I’m so sorry, T. I had no idea.”

  I shrugged. “That was one of the things I loved about Maddie. She doesn’t have a mom, so I used to pretend in my head that I didn’t either. It was just easier that way. She had her dad and I had Dadi and we had each other, so it seemed okay. But now Maddie’s gone and my mom’s still gone in almost every sense of the word and …” My voice wobbled. “It just feels sucky all around.”

  Sahil looked pained, like he might cry too. “Hey, T. For what it’s worth, you’ll always have me. Okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

  I smiled at him through my tears. And in that moment, I completely believed him. Sahil was someone I could count on. He’d never let me down.

  Oh, we’re here. I better go.

  Love,

  Twinkle

  Saturday, June 20, post-party