She had been six years old the day she met him. It had been her sister’s wedding, and her fabled big brother had come home from school to join the wedding party. Nandita remembered everything about the moment they’d met. She had been sitting in a black town car her father had hired to pick Satish up from the airport, and she had begged to go to the gate, but even under her mother’s pleading eyes, her father had shushed her. The airport was not the place for them to be dragging around a child. She’d waited in the car, as he had ordered her, and it had taken them forty-five minutes to meet and retrieve Satish, but it might as well have been forty-five hours. The interior of the car was dark and smelled like cigarette smoke; she had tried to open the window to get some fresh air inside, but the rumpled driver had given her a dirty look in the rearview mirror and quickly closed the tiny gap. It had been deathly quiet in the car, too, and Nandita had looked longingly out to the bustling pavement, where she could see tears, cuddles, and enthusiastic conversations. She longed to be at the center of all of that fascinating activity, but she knew what would happen if her father found she had left the car even for an instant.
That’s when she had seen them emerging from the sliding doors. Her father had looked as dour as he always did, walking two paces ahead of her mother, who’d been gripping the elbow of a very tall, handsome man. He had been wearing jeans and a crisp, white, cotton shirt. She had watched him smile broadly at her mother and use the hand not pulling his luggage to sweep his jet-black hair from his eyes. Father would not like that long hair on a boy, she had thought to herself, but she loved it—she had instantly loved everything about him, from his green, piercing eyes to the cleft on his chin and the sober manner in which he shook her hand as he slipped into the back seat.
“Well, hello, little sister. You will not remember me, I imagine?” She had shaken her head while looking up at him, his head nearly grazing the ceiling of the car. “Well, I remember you, and you are as beautiful now as you were the last time I saw you. I’ve missed you.” He had given her a soft smile and reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear; he had then grabbed her hand and squeezed.
That was the moment she’d known she wanted to go to the country that could produce such an amazing creature. She no longer wanted to live in her father’s house full of “yes sir, no sir” and anxious, fluttering, female hands. Every moment, you were walking on eggshells, afraid you had done or said one of the many things that would make him angry. Nandita wanted to be where brothers loved their sisters and weren’t afraid to tell them, where fathers smiled sometimes at their children, and where mothers grabbed the elbows of their sons. It never occurred to her that her family was her problem instead of her location and that she didn’t have to go so far away to get what she wanted. She’d just known one thing: she wanted to be with Satish.
If she had counted the number of letters she had written to her big brother over the years, it would number in the thousands. She had shared with him every detail of her difficult life growing up under the thumb of her father. She had shared her first love and had long, intellectual discussions about the type of love she wanted in her life. She had shared her unhappiness with the fact that her father had arranged a marriage for her with a man she had never met. She had shared her desire to get an education and become more than just a “good wife.” Satish had rescued her. Like a white knight on a stallion, he had flown to India when she needed him most to intervene with their parents on her behalf. It hadn’t worked—their father had shown his true colors and his lack of respect for either of their desires—and she had run away to America, knowing Satish would be right on her tail, giving her courage.
She brought her attention back to the glaring screen in front of her. Her eyelids were drooping and her back ached, but she would not give up. If a job was what she needed to protect her freedom, a job she would get. She told herself her mother would be pleased and proud as she placed her fingers on the keyboard and once more hit “submit” on the twelfth application in the last hour. It was going to be a long night.
6
Ravi – The Letter
Ravi’s steps were heavy as he made his way up the stairs to his second floor apartment. He opened the door carefully and quietly in case his roommate, Tammy, was already sleeping. He hoped she was—her cheerful disposition would be too much for him to handle after his busy day, and he just wanted to go straight to bed. He was busier now during his summer break than he had been when classes were still in session. He had told his parents he’d had to stay in Princeton for his job at the University—if they only knew. Not only was he not working in his field, but he was also not getting paid. He brushed his jet-black hair away from his sweating forehead and hunted for the keys in the pocket of his chinos.
The key turned in the lock and he pushed the door open gently. Tammy wasn’t sleeping and she grinned up at him from her favorite armchair as he stepped into their sparsely furnished living room. She was watching TV on mute with a carton of half-eaten Ben and Jerry’s in her hands. Her chin was propped on her knees with her bare, cherry-red toes hanging off the front of the chair.
“Well, hello stranger!” She plopped her pint of ice cream on the table and jumped up from the chair to dance around him, waving a white envelope in her hand. “It came, it came! Don’t you want to see it?”
No, he didn’t want to see it. Thinking that far into the future—especially that future—threatened his concentration on the job at hand. Besides, he was feeling generally annoyed at the world, so Tammy’s disposition rubbed him the wrong way. He stayed silent and strode toward his bedroom.
When he didn’t respond, Tammy froze in the middle of the living room. He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head, so he walked faster. “Seriously, Ravi? I’ve been waiting all day for you to get home. You stagger in at 11 at night and ignore the most important envelope of your entire medical career? Sometimes I don’t get you.”
He dropped his backpack and turned toward her, a snappy retort on the tip of his tongue. The look on her face made him pause, though. She was disappointed in him. He couldn’t stand to disappoint people.
“Sorry, Tammy,” he gave up and moved toward her, taking the envelope from her hand and dropping heavily on the couch. “It’s been a long day. I didn’t mean to ruin your fun.” He shot her a tiny grin and she clapped her hands and bounced a few times on her tiptoes before sitting beside him.
Ravi stared hard at the envelope as the return address stared back: the University of Pennsylvania. God, this wasn’t what he wanted.
Tammy misunderstood his hesitation, and he felt her soft hand on his wrist. “Don’t worry,” she said, “my envelope was exactly the same size.”
What would he do without her? They’d had a fortuitous relationship. Tammy Reed was the most outgoing and relaxed pre-med student on campus. She was the kind of girl Ravi had never spent time with. She was confident and beautiful, but also kind, caring, and always looking out for the underdog—and Ravi was the underdog. During the first week of their second year at Princeton, she had approached him in the dining hall with an encouraging smile on her face. He had been eating alone, as his few friends were on a different schedule than his. On Tuesdays, he ate alone, but Tammy had bounced up and perched herself on the end of his table. He had been stunned into silence by her presence and she’d stared back before mimicking his big-eyed gaze.
She’d said, “So, my parents have told me that, if I don’t focus, they are going to stop paying tuition.” He had been confused with no idea of why she was speaking to him. “I need to convince them I am as serious about this med school thing as they want me to be. I am—I truly am—but I guess my social activities make me seem a little flippant.”
“Um. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” he had said, trying not to fidget too much and give away his unease.
“Well, that’s where you come in. I need a non-distracting, studious, parent-impressing roommate. I looked up the class rankings an
d you’re on top.”
“You want me to be your roommate?” Ravi had lived in the dorms his freshman year and had been looking for a room share all summer, but his parents had balked at the cost of living off campus. On that Tuesday, he had been back in the dorms for a week and hating it.
“Well, you’re obviously smart, and I talked to your friend Rick, who said you’re also studious, quiet, and gay, which makes you the perfect roommate. No partying, no gossiping, and definitely no night time distractions. You’re perfect! It’s $550 a month. My parents own the place, but they don’t want me living there alone.”
Ravi wasn’t gay, but he’d understood why his friend had thought he was. For $550 a month in an off-campus apartment, he didn’t mind letting Tammy think so, either—especially because he had no intention of engaging in any activities that would expose his heterosexuality.
“Um… okay,” he had said to Tammy, still trying to catch up.
“Great!” She had stood from the table and dropped a piece of folded paper onto his tray. “Here’s the address and my number. Text me before you bring your stuff and I’ll make sure I’m there to let you in and give you the keys.”
It had been a match made in Heaven. Tammy had continued her crazy, social, whirlwind life, but under the protection of Ravi’s guidance. He’d felt a responsibility to make sure he was the type of roommate he had signed up to be, and that meant he was in Tammy’s background, keeping her focused, helping her study, and ensuring she got a good night’s sleep when it was important. She had grown very reliant on Ravi’s support and he had developed a soft spot for Tammy, as if she were his sister. They were incredibly fond of each other—so much so that they had agreed to continue to room together if they were both accepted into their dream medical school, the University of Pennsylvania. At least, it was his parents’ and Tammy’s dream. He was pretty sure it wasn’t his.
Ravi stared down at the envelope in his hand. This was the moment Tammy had been waiting for after her acceptance had arrived yesterday. She looked at him, excitement flashing in her eyes. “Go ahead! Why are you being so grumpy, right now?”
Ravi ripped open the envelope and the congratulatory letter fell into his lap. Tammy snatched it up, read the first line, and immediately danced around the room, whooping with excitement. He checked himself. How did he feel? Exhausted, defeated, and misguided. At least his unpaid and unwanted summer job served a purpose: distracting him from the fact that his life was entirely on the wrong track. He watched his roommate’s unbridled joy at his success as he felt nothing at all.
7
Nandita – The Bestie
Nandita locked the door of her little apartment and smiled to herself. She had finally a room of her own—literally. It was a tiny studio, but there was such joy in having a space that belonged to her that its size was inconsequential. The street around her buzzed with early morning activity, as both businesspeople and students clutched coffees and carried stuffed backpacks and briefcases. The energy from the scene around her pumped into her body through the soles of her feet; she loved it here and would do everything she could to make sure she could stay.
The apartment sat above one of the retail shops in the square and was accessed through a bright red door leading to a tiny stairway. Nandita had stepped inside yesterday afternoon and gasped in awe. As in so many of the older buildings in this town, the ceilings soared fifteen feet above her. Ornate moulding decorated the top edge of the steel gray walls and a large, antique chandelier sparkled in the center of the room. A tiny kitchen rested against the back wall next to the door to the bathroom. The rest of the cozy room held a bed and living area. The small space would have felt claustrophobic, if it weren’t for the light that flooded the room and sparkled off the chandelier. Two French doors took up the entire front wall and led out to a tiny balcony overlooking the square. She couldn’t wait to perch at the bistro table outside with her cup of morning coffee and her laptop while looking for a job. She had sixty days to make it happen, and she was determined that this little house from Heaven would be her home for the next two years.
Right now, however, if she didn’t hurry, she was going to be late to Claire's dress fitting. As Nandita turned away from the door to head for her car, she gasped. It was him again: standing on the opposite curb was the man she had seen multiple times over the past few weeks in Hoboken. What was he doing in Princeton? Surely that was too much of a coincidence. He was in deep concentration over a parking meter. Was he parked outside her house? Had he followed her here? She felt a shiver of anxiety course through her as she began a determined march toward him.
She was halfway across the street before he noticed her, so she was able to get her first good look at him—and, boy, did he look good! He didn’t look like the type who would need to stalk someone, but wasn’t that what they always said about serial killers? He was dressed impeccably in khaki chinos and a white t-shirt that clung to his impressive torso. When his bicep flexed as he reached up to turn the handle of the meter, Nandita felt a little kick in her stomach. His skin was darker than hers—the color of the caramel ice cream she craved when she was PMSing—and his face looked as if it had been chiseled from marble with a strong nose, full lips, dark perfectly groomed scruff, black eyes, and a head full of ebony curls. Who was this guy?
She paused on the street as a car turned in front of her, and he looked up and caught her eye. He flushed and then turned on his heel to walk into the crowd. Damn, she’d missed him.
She was early, as usual, and had spent the entire drive to Hoboken puzzling over her stalker. Who was he? Was he dangerous? Should she tell someone official? He didn’t look dangerous—in fact, he looked scrumptious—but again, wasn’t that what they always said about kidnappers?
She hovered outside Claire’s boutique, lost in thought, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“She’s not here yet. Come next door for a coffee. I was just opening.” Sally grabbed her hand and dragged her to Tod’s beautiful gallery.
This space was where Tod created beauty and Sally made magic happen. He had been moderately successful as a local artist before he met her, and he'd been lucky to have wealthy parents to give him a good start. When he’d graduated from school, they'd gifted him this building with two store fronts and the luxury loft he lived in above them. The gallery had been pretty before Sally came along, but she had transformed it. Now it didn’t just sell art, but it also hosted small parties and was one of the most coveted wedding photo locations in Hoboken. That had been all down to Sally.
A wave of coffee-scented air conditioning greeted them as Sally pulled open the front door. Nandita immediately wandered the edges of the room, pausing in front of a painting here and there, admiring Tod’s confident brushstrokes and discerning eye.
“You’ve seen these, haven’t you?” Sally appeared behind her with a cup of coffee. She smiled almost fondly at the bright blue canvas that had hypnotized Nandita.
“Of course—I was here for the opening. It’s just that you see something new every time you look at Tod's work. Has he done anything new lately?”
“He has to travel, Nandita. It’s part of getting his name out there. His art won’t leave him just because he takes a break.”
Nandita frowned at the irritation in Sally’s voice. “I wasn’t inferring anything. I was just wondering.”
Sally looked over the rim of her coffee cup, blowing off the steam, and winced. “Sorry, sweets. Touchy subject. Tod’s a little resistant to the marketing tour I planned for him, but it’s important he gets out there to build his brand.”
“I guess,” Nandita paused, hesitant in case she said the wrong thing, “but he’s kind of famous around here, isn’t he? Weren’t his paintings selling a lot?”
“Of course they were selling!” Sally took a sip of her coffee and swept her hand around the studio. “The man’s a genius—my genius.”
She smiled, then, and Nandita smiled with her. She loved the two of them together. Acco
rding to Claire, it was a miracle they had even become a couple. Sally had been a party girl looking for a rich executive while Tod had been an up-and-coming artist making ends meet as a waiter. Apparently, Sally has been stubbornly resistant to his advances, but he'd persisted and worn her down.
“So, when will Claire and Maureen be here?” Nandita walked to the huge window of the gallery and moved a panel of the tall blinds to peer out onto the street.
Today was Claire’s final wedding dress fitting. She was making her own alterations, but she had decided they should just go ahead and pretend the fitting was happening at a bridal shop. She wanted them to have all the fun of prepping for the wedding as a team.
Sally settled into one of the gallery’s luxurious, white leather viewing chairs and turned to the young woman. “In a bit, but I’m glad you’re here early, Nan. We need to talk about this Princeton situation without your ‘parents’ around.”
Nandita chuckled. Sally often referred to Claire and Satish as her parents. As far as Sally was concerned, Satish’s little sister was an adult and Satish and Claire were entirely too strict. What Sally didn’t understand was that, although her brother was tough on her, her restrictions were mostly her own. She was tough on herself so she could get things done.
“So, what are you planning on doing?” Sally asked.
“About what?” Nandita moved to the couch in the center of the studio and took a seat carefully—Sally would freak if she spilled her coffee.
“About this horrendous visa situation! You know, I had no idea that getting one was so difficult! I mean, I thought if you had something to offer, you could just stay here. I was doing some research last night and there are a heck of a lot of rules!”
“You were doing some research? For me?” Nandita laughed. Sally was allergic to books of any kind, and her limited research was one-hundred percent dedicated to expanding her and Tod’s ever-growing business endeavors. She was flattered.
Uncharted (Jersey Girls Book 3) Page 3