Ashish had insisted on making a list last night when she’d confessed to him how afraid she really was that things would go completely awry. Ashish was weirdly optimistic for having such a smirky-jock persona. She studied his list with a half smile.
Why Sweetie’s Parents Will Love Ashish and Totally Agree to the Dating Thing
Ashish’s cute smile
Ashish’s impeccable sense of dress
The flowers Ashish will bring for Sweetie’s mom
The toffees Ashish will bring for Sweetie’s dad
The fact that Ashish is a killer ballplayer
Ashish makes Sweetie happy
Cute butt
Sweetie laughed when she read that last one. She hadn’t seen it last night; he’d obviously added it on when she wasn’t looking. She flipped the page to read the list on the back, which she’d written. (Ashish’s editorializing was in parentheses.)
Why Sweetie’s Parents Will Hate Ashish and Totally Kick Both Their Butts
They’ve dated for more than a month in secret. (But what’s a month in the grand scheme of things? Seriously. A month is like a blink to adults. Like half a sneeze.)
Sweetie hasn’t lost any weight since the last discussion with Amma re: dating Ashish. (Your Amma will see that I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, so this is a moot point.)
Amma specifically said no to Ashish … not just to dating any boy, but specifically to Ashish. (Has Amma ever met Ashish? Mm-hmm, didn’t think so. My superpower is charming any adult. Not even kidding. Just cross this off your list now.)
Smiling, Sweetie folded the page and tucked it into a notebook at the bottom of her drawer. To be honest, she was looking forward to the hiding and lying being over, one way or another. Her phone beeped.
Kayla: I can’t believe your parents are throwing this party the day of prom
I know right?
So I have to get my hair and makeup done …
WHAT???! You have to come! I told you, A is going to be here. I need support
You think I’d miss that? I just need to leave by 2:30. So if you could spill the beans before then … I got the latest appt I could
Thanks. I’ll definitely tell them before then. Otherwise I’ll burst
So. I hate to be the pessimist but what if they say no? Will you still go to prom?
Idk … I thought about it too. If I go I’d have to go without Ashish but Idk if I could
Don’t blame you. Love you
Love you too
Sweetie set the phone aside and walked to her closet. She opened the door and stroked the dress she’d be wearing to the party, which was also going to be her prom dress. Two big surprises in one day. Poor Amma.
CHAPTER 31
Ashish looked in the floor-length mirror in the corner of his room.
Steel-blue button-down shirt tucked into pants: check (Ma had told him it made his eyes really pop, and dang if she wasn’t right).
Khaki pants: check.
Black shoes buffed to a glossy shine: check (and thank you, Myrna, for saving him at the last minute from applying what had actually been car grease instead of shoe polish). (To be fair, Ashish never ventured into that part of the house, and the jars weren’t labeled.)
Hair neatly combed instead of stylishly spiked as usual: check.
Face neatly shaved: check.
He smoothed down his shirt and took a deep breath. He’d done everything he could; this was it. In ten minutes he’d be leaving for the party. And then … either things would be amazing or they’d flop.
Ashish couldn’t see this whole thing with Sweetie ending. He didn’t know if he was deeply in denial or what, but how could her parents not see how happy they were together? How could they stick stubbornly to their guns when Ashish turned on the full-throttle charm? Impossible.
He slid his phone out of his pocket and, sitting on the bench at the end of his bed, sent a text.
Whatever happens today …
Mein tumse pyaar karta hoon …
Pyaar karta tha …
Aur pyaar karta rahoonga.
Smiling, he put the phone away. The Hindi lines were cheesy movie dialogue that meant, “I love you, I’ve loved you, and I’ll always love you.” But he meant it. God, did he mean it.
There was a brief knock, and then Ma and Pappa stepped in. Ma smiled a little and Pappa put his arm around her shoulder.
“How are you, beta?” Ma asked, one hand at her chest.
“Fine. Just a little …” He shrugged, trying to downplay the nerves.
“Terrified?” Pappa asked. “Want some Pepto Bismol?”
Ashish glared at him. “No, thank you. I’m not terrified. Merely … anticipating.”
“Of course you’re not terrified,” Ma said at the same time that Pappa said, “You know, there’s no shame in admitting the fear that can grip the intestines! When I was on the way to ask for Ma’s hand in marriage, I almost had to jump off the bus to relieve—”
“Pappa, please.” Ashish tried not to grimace. “I mean, I really appreciate your, uh, sharing. But I think I’ll be okay. I mean, Sweetie’s parents have to like me. Everyone likes me when I’m charming. Ma always says that.”
Ma came to sit by him on the bench, her silk salwar swishing. “You’re right. When you’re charming and people see your smile … oof. Chanda-sooraj munh chhupa ke baith jaate hain.”
Ashish rolled his eyes. “I seriously doubt the moon and the sun hide their faces because of my smile. … Oh, wait. Is this one of those over-the-top Hindi things?”
Ma laughed. “Yes.” She kissed his cheek and then proceeded to rub off the lipstick. “Beta, I want you to know that Pappa and I think you’re perfect.”
Pappa grunted, which didn’t exactly sound like assent, but Ashish rolled with it. “Thank you. Not as perfect as Rishi, but good enough, right?” He smiled and adjusted his cuffs casually to show it was all a joke to him, even if that wasn’t strictly true.
Ma frowned. “Ashish …”
“It’s okay, Ma. I know I haven’t been the easiest kid.”
“Easy?” This time it was Pappa who spoke up. “No. You’re not easy.”
Ashish shrugged, like, Yeah, what’d I say?
“But,” Pappa continued. “You’re passionate. You’re brave. No one in this family has ever tried to do the things you’ve done, Ashish, because none of us have the fighting spirit you do.”
Ashish stared at Pappa, not able to think of a single word to say.
“Have you ever tried to eat curry that hasn’t been seasoned?” Pappa asked, almost aggressively. “It’s bland. It’s boring. No one likes it.” He cleared his throat. “That’s what our life would be like without you,” he finished gruffly, crossing and then uncrossing his arms.
Ma smiled at him and then at Ashish, tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“Wow,” Ashish said, looking down at his feet. “Um, thank you. Both of you.” He literally could not believe that those words, in that order, had come out of Pappa’s mouth. Could it be true? Did his parents really love him just as much as Rishi, even if he was such a pain in the ass? He’d have to think about it more later.
“Beta, but are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Ma asked, pulling him out of his mini reverie.
“You said I was perfect.” Ashish smiled. “So how could Sweetie’s parents not be won over in about three seconds?”
“True …,” Ma continued, putting a hand on his. “But sometimes people can’t see past their own—oh, kaise kehte hain—hang-ups. The things that make them feel a certain way, but they don’t know why. For Sweetie’s mother, that is Sweetie’s weight. I would hazard that the reason the weight bothers her is because she has some things that weigh on her mind, hmm? So in a way, it has nothing to do with Sweetie. Or you.”
Ashish hadn’t quite looked at it like that. What if Sweetie’s parents refused to be charmed by him because of what he represented? Something that
bothered them and they couldn’t come to terms with that had nothing to do with him or Sweetie? He couldn’t control that.
“No, you can’t,” Pappa said, and Ashish realized he’d spoken that last part aloud. Pappa stepped closer and put a hand on Ashish’s shoulder for just a moment. “There are things in life beyond your control, Ashish. You’ll only make yourself mad trying to change them.”
He looked up into Pappa’s face, into those dark, almost-stormy eyes. “So what should I do?”
“Be honest. Own up to your feelings and your actions. Then step back. A man always knows when to step back.”
“Uh-uh,” Ma said, wagging her finger at Pappa. “A wise person always knows when to step back.”
Ashish sighed. “I’m not so wise,” he said. “But I am a person. So at least I have half of this in the bag?”
Ma and Pappa both chuckled. “Best of luck, beta,” Ma said, getting up. “You have our blessings.”
Even a year ago Ashish would’ve said a blessing was worth about as much as the air you used to say it. But now … now it felt different. They’d seen him at his lowest. They’d known what he needed even when he himself didn’t. Ashish was grateful for his parents’ wisdom. He hugged them and walked out, his heart pounding.
Sweetie had given him her address, but even without that, it wouldn’t have been hard to find her house. It was a pale-blue stucco, with a heavy wooden front door that stood wide open. Hordes of mostly Indian people were entering at a steady pace, and Ashish could see that the big living room inside was packed too. Children were shrieking and playing in the side yard and disappearing around back. A waiter in a tux was maneuvering around them with a tray of drinks. Lively Hindi party music played.
Ashish had to park down the street—there was no room nearby, even though he was right on time—and as he got out of the Jeep, his palms got just slightly damp. Wow. Nervous. He’d never been this nervous outside of a basketball game, and even then it had been a long time since that had happened. He swallowed, then picked up the box of toffees, the bouquet of Gloriosa lilies, and the gold-and-purple-wrapped box that contained Sweetie’s present. Well, part of it, anyway.
As he walked up to the house, he noticed that most of the people here were in suits and expensive-looking brocade kurtas. Even the teens and middle-school-aged boys were in ties. Dang it. Pappa always said to keep a tie in the dash, just in case. But of course Ashish never listened. He thought that sounded like the stuffiest idea in the world. Great job, Ash. Your stupid rebellion might just cost you the love of the most amazing girl in the world.
I’m here, he texted Sweetie as he walked up the driveway.
Then he took a deep breath and followed a family with four shrieking children inside.
Wow. This was … intense in a weird way. Ashish had been to a lot of parties with his parents, but this one was a blend of über-high-end, snooty waiters circling with drinks and hors d’oeuvres and extremely middle-class Indian families laughing and joking and letting the children climb all over the furniture and one another (Ashish knew about the latter kind from the rest of his family, who were scattered around the country and India). The waiters kept dodging the kids as they wove around their legs, and the party music kept thumping, making the entire scene look like something from the world’s most suburban circus.
A small hand on his arm had him spinning around, a smile on his face. But it wasn’t Sweetie. A tiny Indian woman, about Ma’s age, looked up at him from behind cat-eye glasses. She was dressed in a cream-colored sari with a golden border. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Vidya Nair, Sweetie’s mother.”
“Oh. Namaste, auntie,” Ashish said, immediately trying to fold his hands together. Except he was holding a giant pile of things and couldn’t quite manage. The bouquet of lilies almost slid out of his grasp and fell on the floor. Crap. Ma would kill him; she’d picked these out with the help of her friend who was an expert on all things botanical. They were apparently very rare and expensive. Doing a dance worthy of the suburban circus, Ashish managed to salvage the flowers and held them out to Sweetie’s mom. “These are for you. Special from my mother, Sunita Patel.” He smiled in his most charming, can-do way. “I’m Ashish Patel.”
Sweetie’s mom took the bouquet but didn’t look nearly as impressed or pleased as Ma had predicted. Dang. “Yes?” she asked.
It took Ashish a minute, but then he figured it out. She meant “Yes?” as in And what are you doing here, you chump? He swallowed. His armpits were starting to prickle with nervous sweat.
“Ashish, you came!”
Ashish turned just in time to see a familiar-looking black girl bound up to him and wrap her hands around his arm. She looked at Sweetie’s mom. “This is my good friend Ashish,” she explained, tugging his arm with exceptional force for someone her size. He tried not to wince. “So glad you made it,” she said to him, smiling savagely now.
That’s when it hit him. This was one of the Mafia gang girls from Thursday night. Well, that explained the arm ripping. “Oh, um, yes,” he hurried to say. “I, uh, um … traffic.”
The girl gave him a raised-eyebrow You’re an idiot look. Oh, well. He was used to that look from girls.
Vidya auntie’s face relaxed just a touch. “Kayla, will you please show your friend where to put the present? And have you seen Sweetie?” Her face moved back into frown territory, and Ashish felt bad for Sweetie, wherever she was.
“Not yet,” Kayla said. “But I can go up and see if she’s in her room?”
“No. I’ll do that.” And Vidya auntie turned with the determined air of someone who was about to call for a beheading.
Kayla let his arm go and turned to face him, her head cocked. “I’m not sure about you. I mean, I know Sweetie wants you here, but … I don’t know. I feel like you’re the kind of guy who ends every party with a lampshade on your head, hitting on some innocent girl from Minnesota.”
Ashish blinked. “Um … what?” Did that make sense anywhere except in Kayla’s head?
“I don’t know. You’ve just got that look.” She paused. “And believe me, there is definitely a type of guy like that.”
Ashish pursed his lips and bobbed a slow nod. “Okay. I have, like, zero idea what to do with what you just said. But I can tell you I have big plans for me and Sweetie, and none of those involve lampshades or Minnesotan girls.”
Kayla laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s find the present table.”
Sweetie sat in front of her vanity, staring at herself in the mirror. It was time. She just needed to do it. Be brave. Remember the Sassy Sweetie Project.
Her locked doorknob jiggled, and she turned, her heart pounding.
“Sweetie?” Amma said from the other side of the door. “What are you doing hiding in your room with the door locked? Come on! Guests are here.”
“Yes, Amma,” she called. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“It doesn’t look nice to keep them waiting, mol,” Amma said, her voice all twitchy. She loved throwing parties, but she hated actually having to entertain. It made no sense to Sweetie. “They’re asking about you.”
“Just finishing up my … um, makeup,” Sweetie said, looking at her T-shirt in the mirror. “I’m almost done.”
“Okay, okay,” Amma said, sounding resigned now. “Five more minutes!”
“Shari, Amma,” Sweetie called, collapsing against the back of her chair in relief. Okay, five more minutes. She could do this.
Her phone beeped.
Anjali Chechi: Flight just landed. On our way soon! You got it, right? Are you wearing it?
Yeah, it came in the mail two days ago. Not wearing it yet. I’m not sure I can do it. Maybe I should just wear the one Amma picked out. I mean, the dress, Ashish, prom—maybe it’s all too much on the same day?
Anjali Chechi: I won’t force you, Sweetie. But just think about what you’ll regret doing: Being a BAMF or not being one?
Sweetie laughed to herself. Not being one.
Anjali Che
chi: Smart girl. See you soon. xx
Sweetie rose with a renewed vigor. Ashish had already texted her about five minutes ago. He was downstairs. Poor dude … She didn’t even want to think how he was coping down there without her.
She took the outfit out of her closet and forced a brave smile. She was Sassy Sweetie. She was a BAMF.
CHAPTER 32
Okay, Sweetie’s family knew way too many people called Padma. He’d just been introduced to an ancient great-grandma, a middle-aged, slightly angry-looking woman who claimed to be the best entertainment attorney in the state, and a tiny girl with masses of curly hair, and they were all Padma. How was he supposed to remember any of this? Was he supposed to remember any of this?
Where was Sweetie?
The suspense was getting to be too much. Ashish felt like he was constantly on display, even though no one really seemed to be paying attention to him. Except for the Mafia girl gang, all of whom had come up and introduced themselves and talked to him a bit. He’d gotten the distinct feeling that they were sizing him up, looking for hints of douchebaggery, but they seemed pretty comfortable with him now. The girl with the braces, who looked to be about twelve, Izzy, had even apologized for calling him Ass-sheesh that night. (And for calling him Pa-hell, which he hadn’t known she’d called him until she told him and then blushed bright red when she realized she’d only called him that behind his back; apparently the girl had a talent for mean puns.)
He just wanted to get this show on the road. He wanted to tell Sweetie’s parents exactly who he was and why he was here and lay it all out for them.
Sighing, he wandered over to the bottom of the stairs and happened to glance up.
There's Something About Sweetie Page 28