Priya in Heels (Entangled Embrace)

by Ayesha Patel

  “And you’re so sure you like me?”

  “I liked you way before I asked your parents about you.”

  Oh, wow.

  We moved on to the meal. They were impressed with Mummie’s cooking, but that wasn’t a shocker. I remained quiet throughout most of dinner, mulled around thoughts and digested the discussions about our lives, a potential marriage, and recent events in India.

  Eventually, Manuk drew me into a conversation about residency and Houston. He knew what I was going through. His residency experience hadn’t been so long ago.

  “Long hours are killing me. I’m surprised my health is still good,” I admitted.

  “My sympathies.”

  I didn’t expect that. Impressive. Most Indians would’ve said, It’s worth it. You have to work hard for anything worth having. Some people might not have commented at all, expecting that I should work hard at a prestigious career.

  I swirled around the water in my glass.

  “Shy? I don’t remember you being so quiet,” he said.

  “It’s just surreal, hasn’t settled in yet.”

  “Life changes. I hope this is a good meeting for you.”

  The end of the night couldn’t come fast enough. I exhaled and released the tension once the door closed.

  “That was great!” Papa exclaimed. “What do you think? He’s a good boy, huh?”

  “He’s very nice,” I admitted.

  “He knows how to talk to people,” Mummie added. “He can talk to anyone, and so smart. I think you two are a good match. What else do you think?”

  “You want me to make a decision on whether I want to marry him after one meeting?”

  “Why not? What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing yet. We have to have a connection, too.”

  “What connection? You were talking to each other. He’s easy to get along with.”

  I groaned. “I’m going to change.”

  In my old bedroom, I slipped into sweats and folded the sari for another occasion. I rapped on Mummie’s door.

  “Come in!” she called.

  Papa lay in bed and watched the news. He had a weird habit of sleeping in slacks and a button-up shirt. In fact, unless he went to mandir or mowed the lawn, he always wore slacks and a button-up shirt.

  Mummie sat next to him, propped up against the headboard in a black nightgown. She patted the mattress and, like a little kid, I jumped onto the bed. Mummie stretched her legs out as I placed them on my lap and massaged her feet.

  “Thank you, beti.”

  “You had a long day. Thank you for all the work you did, all that cooking and planning.”

  “Oh!” She waved a hand through the air. “That was nothing, if it was for you.”

  “Let’s go get pedicures tomorrow.”

  “That’s not for me.”

  “Or the spa? You can get a real massage.”

  “That’s a waste of money. It’s expensive.”

  “Expensive? Mummie, how much did you pay for my sari?”

  “Priya! Don’t ask such questions.”

  “Go ahead and spend my money,” Papa said without looking at us.

  “I’ll pay. My treat,” I insisted.

  “You never pay with us,” Mummie said.

  “Well, you still have to do something with me tomorrow.” I hugged her and squealed.

  “You’ll always be my little girl, but you’re holding me too tight!”

  I relaxed my hug slightly and said, “Promise we’ll do something.”

  And we did. We had a rare mother–daughter day filled with bakeries, pedicures, window-shopping, and massages at the spa.

  Chapter Seven

  Priya

  Vicki: How was the meeting?

  Priya: I told you I’d tell you tomorrow at dinner.

  Vicki: I can’t wait that long!

  Priya: You have to. I’m driving home and you’ll be in bed by the time I get there.

  Vicki: I’ll wait up. TTYL

  The drive back to Houston wasn’t half bad as long as I made it to the city before dark. I’d memorized the route and zoned out with the radio blaring. I had the tendency to do that a lot. Then, all of a sudden, I’d wonder how I’d traveled so far without paying attention. Very dangerous.

  After fueling in the middle of nowhere, I grabbed a bottle of water and checked my phone, not expecting to have six missed texts. I replied as I went down the list.

  Manuk: Had a wonderful time. Have a safe drive home.

  Manuk: BTW, we should meet up and hang.

  Priya: Me, too. Driving home now. Will make arrangements soon.

  Tulsi: Roped into a wedding?

  Priya: Shut up, hooker.

  Jeeta: Congratulations.

  Priya: No plans yet, but thanks.

  Amy: Can you take notes in meeting tomorrow? Gonna miss it. Thx!

  Priya: No prob .

  But it was the last text that made my heart beat faster.

  Ty: Hey gorgeous, you home?

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek and deliberated on whether I should text back.

  Priya: Driving home from Austin.

  Another text came back within seconds.

  Ty: Can I see you tonight?

  Priya: Won’t get home till after 10.

  Ty: I can wait.

  My gut tightened. He hadn’t made contact in over a week and now he wanted to see me so late? I dragged in a deep breath and cleared my head.

  “What are you doing?” I mumbled.

  Priya: I have to unpack and get up early for work.

  I tapped the side of the phone without hitting the send button. I was dangerously close to changing my mind.

  Manuk: Text me when you get home?

  Crap. Send. I replied to Manuk.

  Priya: Will do.

  Ty: ;-)

  I turned on the car and continued home.

  “That was the right thing to do, Priya,” I told myself. “Ty is nothing more than a dangerous feeling. Manuk should work out fine.”

  Manuk didn’t give off a weird vibe, wasn’t too old school, and knew how to give me some space, unlike the other two suitors I’d declined. Everything about him should appeal to me, and I didn’t have a reason to deny this arrangement—at least not a viable one.

  I arrived home by ten, hauled my backpack and a bag full of leftovers upstairs, and paused at Ty’s door. Curiosity crept through me as I leaned toward his apartment and listened. Sheesh! Who was the stalker now?

  Something nestled in the doorframe of my door down the hall caught my eye. It came into view as I approached, keys in hand. I smiled and picked up the single red carnation with white streaks, perhaps one of the prettiest flowers in Texas. Carnations didn’t have much of a fragrance, but it smelled fresh.

  The leftovers found a home on the bottom shelf of the fridge. The carnation went into a tall, thin vase filled partway with water. I took the flower and backpack to my room and unpacked. The apartment was quiet with the exception of soft talking from Vicki’s room.

  I glanced at the carnation every now and then, taken by warmth and yearning as I checked the phone.

  Ty: Wish I’d seen you. Enjoy the flower.

  If I texted back now, he might come over, so I decided to wait until morning. Meanwhile, I texted Manuk to let him know I had a safe journey home to Houston, then called my parents to inform them of the same.

  “Priya!” Vicki squealed from the door.

  I jumped. Good grief. Vicki jumped into bed with me, hugged a pillow to her chest, and leaned against the wall. “So…how was the dentist from Dallas?”

  “Manuk is nice.”

  “Nice enough to marry?”

  “God, I don’t know! It’s too early to know. You sound like my mom.”

  “Is there anything off-putting about him? The other guys always had something that pushed your buttons the minute you met them.”

  “No, he’s perfect on paper. Obviously successful, has people skills, gave me space, polit
e, his parents are tolerable. But he did give me this. Isn’t that too much too soon?”

  Vicki pulled my arm toward her. She touched and turned the gold bracelet. “Pretty. Hmm, Indian gold is like nothing to him. Maybe it’s too early for gifts, but it’s a nice sentiment. Maybe he’s confident you’ll marry him. Do you have to give it back if you don’t marry him?”

  I gently shoved her and we laughed. “I feel like this is the first trickling of a dowry.”

  “The man has money and style.”

  “He wants to hang.”

  “Dating him is now sanctioned by the almighty parents. I want to meet him.”

  “Why?”

  “To tell you if you’ll match up.”

  “My mom already says we do.”

  “Just any doctor won’t do!”

  “How would you know better than me if we’d match up?”

  “Because I can see how you physically react around him. Were you at ease and talkative like with any other person, or did you try to run off every chance you got?”

  “No one’s themselves the first time. We’re sitting under a magnifying glass while our parents determine if they like the other child.”

  “Doesn’t sound like he was stiff and shy.”

  “Guess not.” I shrugged and studied the bracelet. “There’s nothing wrong with him.”

  Vicki walked to the hallway and said over her shoulder, “Doesn’t mean he’s the right one, either.”

  Then she left. And I swam through all the doubts that sprouted in my head.

  Chapter Eight

  Priya

  Ty: Hey, you working?

  Priya: Just got home. What’s up?

  Ty: Wanna come over?

  My gut did back flips. When a man said something like that, it usually meant…

  Ty: Friends are over playing poker.

  Oh, never mind then.

  Priya: Sure. Now? Can I bring anything?

  Ty: Just yourself.

  Priya: I have to shower. Is that okay?

  Ty: As opposed to smelling rank like diseased patients, please do! :P

  I laughed and rushed through a shower. Afterward, I blow-dried my hair while I pondered if it needed trimming. Then I made an effort with my face, though why I needed to impress Ty…uh, Ty’s friends, I didn’t know.

  My friends were, for the most part, very successful and educated women. I didn’t know anything about Ty’s crowd, but I wanted to be cool enough for them, not just another stereotypical Indian doctor.

  Blow-drying made my arms ache. Mental note: get a haircut. Astringent, moisturizer, primer, foundation, bronzer, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss! Boy, no wonder I hated makeup.

  I threw on a dark blue, quarter-sleeved ribbed shirt with a square neckline. Though the neckline didn’t plunge like the V-necks Tulsi often wore, the square shape offered more skin with less cleavage. Blue jeans to be casual, and sneakers. I was comfortable and presentable, although if I really wanted to be comfortable, I’d wear gym shorts.

  A young man opened Ty’s door after two knocks. He swept his gaze down my body and back to my face before a smile curved his lips. “You must be Pree.”

  “It’s Priya, and yes, that’s me,” I said, trying to finish on a friendlier note than what I had begun with.

  “Damn,” he said. “Tyler was right.”

  “About what?”

  “About you being fine as hell.”

  My cheeks flushed, and my face and neck turned red hot. Ty had talked me up, apparently.

  “What exactly did he say?” I just had to know!

  “Something about you being brainy, a little crazy, in shape, beautiful eyes a man could get lost in, and oh yeah, definitely edible.”

  I turned even warmer, if that were at all possible.

  “Who’s at the door, man?” Ty asked from inside.

  “Your friend, Pree…ya. Come in.”

  I didn’t expect such enthusiasm from Ty’s crowd when they met me. A beautiful, willowy blonde jumped up from a chair and shook my hand. She beamed, setting off a deepening dimple, and her blue eyes sparkled. “You must be Pree!”

  “It’s Priya,” the man who’d answered the door corrected her.

  “Oh, sorry. Tyler always calls you Pree.”

  “It’s okay.” Just how often did he speak of me, exactly?

  “I’m Terrie. That’s my boyfriend, Steve.”

  A tall, dark-haired, golden-skinned man stood beside her and shook my hand. “Hey there, Priya. Lovely to meet you.”

  “So nice to meet you, too,” I said.

  “Jackson.” A dark-skinned man in slacks jumped up and shook my hand next.

  “And you met Mike,” Terrie said, indicating the man who had opened the door. He raised a beer bottle to me.

  The group, who must’ve been in the middle of a hand, returned to their seats around the table.

  “Come on over.” Terrie waved.

  Ty walked around the counter and approached me. “Hey, glad you made it.” He gave me a light, unanticipated hug that did all sorts of weird things to my body. “Come on, we’re almost done with this hand. There’s pizza in the kitchen and drinks. Help yourself.”

  I placed my keys and cell phone on the counter and loaded a plate with two slices of pepperoni pizza. I was a bit puzzled when I walked to the table because there wasn’t a chair for me. There were four chairs for six people. Terrie propped herself on Steve’s lap. I expected Ty to grab a chair, though the only other one I saw was a heavy recliner in the living room. Maybe he would offer his seat to me.

  Ty patted his thigh. Maybe not.

  I made a face. He couldn’t be serious. “Really?”

  “Really. Best seat in the house.”

  “You don’t have another chair?”

  “Oh, come on!” Terrie said from across the table. “You might like it.” She winked and the guys chanted, “Sit!”

  My face turned warm again, which it seemed to do a lot around Ty. Peer pressure was harsh, and I didn’t want to make a scene by demanding Ty relinquish his seat or by storming to the recliner and failing to drag it over.

  I sighed and slipped onto his lap.

  “That a girl,” he muttered. With his hands around my waist, he readjusted my position. This was definitely a first.

  “Don’t blame me if your leg goes numb, or breaks.”

  “Worth it. Do you know how to play poker?”

  “No.” I took a bite of the pizza.

  He kept one arm around me, and the other in front of us with his cards in hand. The game started as he explained the rules and goals.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  He pulled me into him. “Then lean closer. Don’t worry, babe, I don’t bite.” Then, in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, he continued, “Unless you want me to.”

  I focused on the others and silently rebuked the butterflies in my belly, the ones that became more aggressive every time Ty was around. Now that I was in this situation, the horde of butterflies took up permanent residence. Did anyone else notice? Did Ty realize the things he was doing to me?

  The guys concentrated on their cards while Terrie and Steve whispered to one another about their hand. They were all so serious and weren’t paying attention to the two of us.

  “The most important thing is keeping a poker face,” Terrie said.

  “That’s not difficult. I don’t know what’s going on,” I replied.

  Jackson slid a card across the table. “Brother, I didn’t know you changed careers over to QFD.”

  I curiously looked at him, then at Ty. Mike snickered.

  “What?” I asked, not understanding why everyone thought the comment was amusing.

  “QFD stands for ‘quantum flavordynamics,’” Ty explained.

  “Which is the theory of weak interaction,” Jackson added. “As in to say, his game has gotten so weak, he’s made a career out of it.” And with that, Jackson won the hand and the group oooh’d as if he’d just talke
d some serious smack about Ty’s mama.

  I smiled. I loved nerdy humor.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Tyler grumbled and checked his new set of cards. “I wouldn’t be making jokes if I still lived with my mommy.” He grinned and winked.

  Mike chortled and Jackson shot him a scathing look. “You know what’s funny? That this ladies’ man found the nerve to talk to his crush after three weeks.”

  “Shut up,” Mike interjected.

  “I wanna hear,” Terrie said.

  “The girl was munching on peanut M&Ms and when Mike asked her out, she spat out her candy and some landed in Mike’s mouth. He accidentally swallowed and swelled up!”

  “I hope you had your EpiPen!” Terrie exclaimed with a hand over her mouth. “Did she at least agree to a date out of pity?”

  “Nope.”

  The group continued to poke fun at one another and laughed. I loved the banter and enjoyed how at ease I felt with Ty’s crowd, don’t get me wrong, but I was afraid of laughing too hard and…well, farting.

  A man like Ty was great with flirting, and he did it well. But no matter how much a man liked a woman, things turned sour when that woman passed gas in front of him. People entered and left lives, and many were forgotten memories, but a man never forgets a woman who farted on him.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Terrie commented after their turn. “Do you mind if I ask what nationality you are?”

  “I get that question all the time. I’m Indian.”

  “You know who you remind me of? What’s her name?” She snapped her fingers. “The Bollywood actress with the beautiful eyes, Miss Universe?”

  “Aishwarya Rai?”

  “Yes! You look like her.”

  I almost choked. That was a first. “Wow, what a compliment, but I don’t think I look anything like her. She’s gorgeous.”

  “Who’s that?” Ty asked.

  “Don’t you watch Bollywood movies?” Terrie asked.

  “No. You mean the Indian movies where everyone randomly dances and sings?”

  “Yes. They’re so beautiful, emotional.” Terrie batted her eyelashes.

  “Okay…”

  I elbowed him. “You need more culture.”

  “I guess you’ll have to teach me.”

  “So what do you do for work?” Terrie steered the conversation into safer territory.