Priya in Heels (Entangled Embrace)

by Ayesha Patel

  Zera worked magic on my face, transforming it from tired with dark circles under my eyes to Bollywood hotness.

  Now that the girls had succeeded in prettying me up, Zera and Neha each took a hand to apply patterns of mehndi from the fingertips to the elbows. Heena worked on my feet from the toes to a few inches up my legs.

  “How am I supposed to eat?”

  “Manuk wouldn’t mind feeding you,” Zera answered. The girls giggled.

  “Crafty.”

  “That’s why we’re doing one hand at a time.”

  I stretched my back. The prospect of lying down on the bed while these crazy girls stained my flesh with henna tempted sore muscles. With three girls working in unison, the mehndi didn’t take long. The waiting started once they’d finished.

  Zera dipped a cotton ball in sugar water laced with lemon juice and patted the mehndi with the citric, sticky coating to help the color deepen.

  “Mehndi never comes out dark on me,” I warned.

  “We’ll check in a bit. Maybe you’ll have to hold your hands over the stove.”

  “Does that really work?”

  Zera shrugged. “It seems the girls with hotter hands have darker results.”

  “I’d be lucky to get red.”

  “Mine always comes out maroon.”

  “Ah, jealous. Yours will be beautiful.”

  Some of the girls applied mehndi to their own hands while most helped others one hand at a time so they didn’t have to rely on the men. When they finished mine, I studied the result with satisfaction. Glistening, forest green ridges now covered my palms and feet.

  “Let’s eat!” Heena announced.

  Everyone carefully stood with one free hand and shuffled across the hall, down the stairs, and into the living room. The men and some of the women ate on a plastic covering on the floor, but we gals couldn’t mess up the mehndi on our feet, so we retreated to the dining table where we laughed at our ridiculous attempts to preserve the henna. Some, like Payal and Heena, maneuvered like pros.

  Giddy laughter filled the room, adding innocence and happiness to the everyday conversations in the living room.

  One by one, the girls looked past me as Manuk slipped in to sit beside me. He smiled, charming and attractive, sending the girls into a wave of frenzied giggles.

  He brought a plate filled with a little bit of everything, a cup of water, and a napkin. He glanced at my hands. “Very pretty. Guess you’ll need help eating, huh?”

  “That’s okay,” I said.

  “Those are the rules, or you’ll starve.”

  “It’s a trap.”

  At least Manuk utilized a fork instead of going traditional like the older generation, who ate with their fingers.

  “You have to eat,” Manuk urged with a fork, balanced with rice and shaak, hovering near my mouth.

  I shook my head and eyed everyone who watched.

  “They’re expecting you to eat,” he whispered.

  When Papa looked up, joining the crowd of onlookers, he smiled.

  I sighed and took a bite as ladylike as possible, but barely opening my mouth dragged out the mortification.

  Manuk led the room in a bout of laughter. My face turned hot.

  “More?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “You’re hungry. I can hear your stomach growling.”

  When the spectacle lost its audience, I agreed to eat a little more.

  “Not so bad, is it?”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  He smiled again, revealing a shallow dimple that had gone unnoticed until now.

  “Did you eat?” I asked.

  “I waited for you.”

  “You should eat. You’ve had a long day driving here.”

  “I’ll wait until you’re done.”

  After a few more nibbles, I insisted, “You eat now. You can put my plate in the fridge.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Eat!”

  Instead of fixing another plate, Manuk ate the remainder of my leftovers, which were many. He didn’t have any qualms about eating after me.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but didn’t know when would be the right time,” he said in a lowered voice so no one could hear.

  When the last girl at the table joined the others in the adjacent room and we were alone, he went on, “I love you, Priya.”

  I almost choked. “Are you serious?”

  He frowned. “Not exactly the response I expected.”

  “Sorry, it’s just…we don’t know each other that well yet.”

  “I disagree. I know you very well. Your favorite color, favorite movie, drink, food, hobbies, history. I love it all.”

  Nausea prickled my insides. He touched my upper arm, above the henna line, and left a trail of fire that burned and scorched and made me want to rip my skin off.

  “You don’t have to say anything yet, but I wanted you to know. I feel very strongly about you and this engagement.”

  I nodded. We finished dinner and everyone talked and laughed while I sat frozen at Manuk’s side.

  “She’s so shy!” his mom said, finally beaming and rosy.

  “Such a good girl, huh?” his father said.

  Happiness masked the regret and pain on Papa’s face. When I saw that look, I perked up and smiled at him. He needed this, and I needed him happy. If he passed away in depression because of me…I would not survive.

  I bid everyone a good night and gave Papa a hug. “Thank you so much for everything. I love you.” Those words became easier to say every time I said them to him.

  He patted my head and smiled. Then I washed off the mehndi and appreciated the beautiful, reddish-brown designs left behind on my hands and feet.

  Vicki, Tulsi, and Jeeta followed me around like handmaidens the entire night, but Manuk snatched my wrist and pulled me against him. Vicki and Tulsi raised their brows. In a second, they transformed from cheerful besties to hellhounds against my decision to be with Manuk. Except Jeeta, who smiled. She favored the decision.

  “Give us a moment, please?” Manuk begged.

  The girls almost stifled snarls, but they backed into the bedroom and closed the door.

  “What—” was all I managed to get out before Manuk planted a kiss against my lips, one that involved tongue action and a quick squeeze of my bottom.

  He groaned as he pressed against me.

  Shocked and repulsed, I froze under his gentle touch. I didn’t kiss back, didn’t touch him, just stood lifeless and unable to move.

  Manuk pulled away and grinned, his eyelids half lowered and his lips parted. “I can’t wait to taste the rest. Have a good night, lover.”

  I swallowed as he walked downstairs. I quivered, stared at the wall, and wrapped my arms around myself. I felt so violated, but why? Manuk was great, and I’d promised to become his wife. I knew there would be kisses, and soon, much more.

  My stomach churned. I wanted to scrub my tongue and lips and tear off every part of me where he’d touched.

  I went into my room and closed the door.

  “Are you okay?” Vicki asked, eyes wide and horrified.

  “What the hell did he do?” Tulsi snapped, her hands on her hips.

  I shook my head and sucked it up. “Nothing, just took me by surprise.” A shaky smile spread across my violated lips.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Vicki muttered.

  “Or Manuk said something horrible,” Tulsi accused. “Is he blackmailing you?”

  I hushed her.

  “We don’t like him,” Tulsi said.

  “I do,” Jeeta mumbled.

  The girls glared at her. I relaxed my shoulders and crawled into bed. “I’m fine. Let’s get some sleep for tomorrow.”

  Vicki slept beside me while Tulsi and Jeeta took the floor like little Indian guardians. They settled down and chatted until they dozed off.

  “Feels wrong, doesn’t it?” Vicki muttered in my ear.

  I igno
red her, pretending to be asleep. Chills and queasiness kept me from sleeping well, and I lay in both emotional and physical discomfort.

  …

  I awoke with a groan and a numbing sensation in my chest. My dream, whatever it had been, was heavy and lingering, the kind that made a person all emotional and depressed for half the day.

  My hands smelled of mehndi, strong and comforting. Mummie had loved mehndi. She used to ask me to put it on her for every big function and ceremony, from baby showers to religious celebrations. Then I would do her nails. Mummie wasn’t here for this, on what would have been one of the biggest days of our lives.

  My eyes stung. Mummie would’ve danced into my room this morning in her flowing nightgown, mehndi halfway up her arms. She would’ve smiled and nudged me awake with the sweet sound of her voice.

  Vicki’s arm draped over my shoulder, her fingers tickling my nose.

  “Are you awake, princess?” she asked.

  Tulsi jerked up from her position on the floor next to Jeeta. “Morning already?”

  Jeeta smiled with eyes closed and muttered, “Big day.”

  I groaned as the numbing sensation in my chest manifested into tightness. I coughed a few times to dislodge the lump in my throat. I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to sleep for the rest of my life.

  Someone rapped on the door. Jeeta pulled the covers over her chest, though she’d slept fully clothed. Tulsi, who dressed down from her usual lingerie—or lack thereof—in sweats and a T-shirt, crawled to the door. Still on her knees, she cracked it open.

  “Is my soon-to-be fiancée awake?” Manuk asked, though I couldn’t see him.

  “Barely.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “No,” Jeeta replied. “We’re all just waking up.”

  “Please?”

  “You have the rest of your lives to see each other.”

  The rest of our lives sounded like an awfully long time.

  I didn’t know what Manuk did to bribe the girls, but Tulsi opened the door for him. He grinned at me when I could barely pry open my eyes. He was so happy.

  The girls scampered out of the room, closed the door, and left us alone. All alone. Just like how it would be for the rest of our lives.

  Manuk glided over the bedspreads and sheets on the floor and landed beside me on the bed as I sat up. He placed a hand on the other side of me and leaned in.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “I feel kinda sick.”

  “Uh-oh.” He touched me forehead, then my forearm. “You don’t feel warm.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll be all right. How are you?”

  “Perfect.” He leaned in for a kiss.

  I turned away.

  “Still so shy, even on our engagement day?” He pecked my cheek. “I’ll let you get ready. Going out for a coffee run. Want something?”

  The thought of sweet, milky coffee made me gag a little. Manuk cringed at my expression. “Never mind. Call me if you want something—pastry, muffin, fruit, crackers?”

  “Fruit, thanks, any kind.”

  “Sure thing. See you soon, fiancée.” He grinned and left.

  I groaned and dragged myself out of bed and showered. Vicki worked on my makeup while Tulsi did my hair and Jeeta did my nails. I felt like an actress with so much attention and so many people at my beck and call. Manuk brought fruit, as promised, and an Italian soda to ease my stomach.

  Over the course of the day, the pain in my chest intensified. Headaches came and went, but I managed to keep from vomiting. No one seemed to notice, or they didn’t bother to ask.

  The lengha was heavy, and I made every effort to keep my shoulders from drooping by maintaining a proper posture. The women ooh’d and ahh’d, and Papa’s glimmering eyes made everything worth it.

  “Pictures!” Heena said.

  Papa and I posed for several. Then I posed with my girls, forcing convincing happiness across my face. I posed with Manuk for more pictures than I could count, then with his parents, then with everyone. I refused to take pictures with the fois, and they didn’t ask.

  I waved away snacks and drinks and entered the ceremony on an empty stomach. The pain gradually increased, and flashbacks of Mummie and Ty hit hard. Thank God, I’d taken my seat in front of the altar, on the floor. The priest sat kitty-corner to me, Manuk’s parents on his side and Papa on my other side. Everyone else was hushed behind us.

  The priest’s chanting became a buzz. All the minor issues that had troubled me throughout the day struck at once: the pain in my chest, the nausea, the headaches, flashbacks, shakes, chills. In addition, dizziness hit and everything closed in around me.

  How could I have overlooked the symptoms? Everyone thought I was nervous about the engagement when they’d noticed my pale color, the sweating, the slight shaking of my hands. Some fois had even sheepishly implied I was nervous about the wedding night, though that was far away.

  The choli bodice felt too tight. My chest constricted. I gulped, perspired, panted. It was hard to breathe. I had to get away, get out. The panic attack hit harder.

  Mummie’s voice haunted me. I looked around, but Mummie wasn’t here. Papa frowned, his eyes full of worry. Manuk studied me with silent questions, a tilt of the head as if to ask if I were okay.

  My chest smoldered. I tried not to clutch it. I tried to grin and bear it and sit still and pay attention. My entire body lit up, caught and disintegrated in a fire. My flesh burned, itched. Tiny bugs crawled beneath my skin. Nerves jolted.

  Black spots formed in my vision, growing, fading, and coming back to take over my sight.

  Manuk’s hand came around to my back, but I pulled away and reached out to my father.

  “Papa,” I muttered, one hand reaching for him, the other tugging on the top of my choli. His warm hand wrapped around mine as he came toward me. Everything went black. Pitch black. Haunting black. The kind of darkness that made me believe I was dying.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Tyler

  I paced Steve’s living room long enough to create a groove. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, then pulled them out, and stopped every now and then to think.

  “You’re making me dizzy,” Steve said as he leaned back. He watched me from the couch. “Just go after her.”

  “She’s already shoved me aside several times. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want me.”

  “Dude, she’s getting freaking engaged today. Isn’t that what Vicki said?”

  I twitched at the thought.

  “Keep fighting. Everything you said about her returning your kisses, getting jealous about Meagan, behaving how she did after her mom passed away tells me she wants to be with you but is scared. What is she scared of?”

  “Disappointing her dad. Letting her mom down. This isn’t a movie where I go riding in on a white horse and give a lovey-dovey spiel in front of her family and she chooses me and we ride off into the sunset together.”

  Steve groaned. “You are both making this too difficult.”

  “Not me. It’s her. How many times can a man express his desires and take rejection?”

  “Numbers don’t count when you’re in love. If you give up now, and she gets married, she’ll never leave him. Then what? You’ll both be miserable forever, and you’ll wish you’d tried one more time.”

  I couldn’t. I could not keep going through this with her. She’d chosen him, time and time again. No man deserved this. Just as I was about to tell Steve my decision, my phone rang. I checked it, half hoping it was Pree telling me she’d come to her senses and had almost made a mistake. It wasn’t.

  “Hey, Vicki.”

  “Tyler, Priya’s in the hospital.”

  My entire world crumbled around me. My heart lurched into my throat. “What?”

  “She passed out right before the engagement ceremony. They rushed her to the hospital. She’s in and out of consciousness.”

  I gulped
. Without having to be asked, without questioning if my appearance would cause more heartache than help, I said, “I’m leaving right now.”

  My hands trembled on the steering wheel the entire way to Austin. I cranked up the volume to the radio to overpower my thoughts, the ones that wandered toward sinister things. What if Pree was really sick? What if I lost her forever? How could I live without her?

  We’d both been nothing but emotional wrecks since Pree’s mother had passed away, and I had a gut-wrenching feeling things were about to get worse.

  I couldn’t get to Austin fast enough, and it was a wonder I made it there without getting a ticket or crashing.

  I thanked the stars I found a parking spot and followed Vicki’s text instructions to the hospital and room two-twelve. I rushed out of the elevator and nearly ran over a nurse.

  “Tyler!” Vicki jogged toward me in a glittery pink Indian dress.

  I grabbed her shoulders. “Where is she? Is she okay? Better? Worse? What happened?”

  “Calm down,” she said softly.

  I chuckled bitterly. “That’s like telling me to stop breathing. Just tell me.”

  She escorted me into the corner of the waiting area, away from the nurses and staff, far from the elevators but close to a lobby full of Indians dressed in finery. Mr. Patel sat on the edge of his seat, his face in his hands. Beside him was the dentist. If ever I had a moment of nearly killing someone, this would be it.

  I took a step toward him, but Vicki yanked me back. “Focus.”

  “Okay.”

  “Priya loves you.”

  “I know that.”

  “She thinks marrying Manuk is the right thing for her family, to honor her mother. You get that, right?”

  “I do.” Unfortunately.

  “But the decision is killing her, just like it’s killing you, me, her dad.”

  I watched as Mr. Patel wiped his face and stood to pace the room. The dentist shot up, but Mr. Patel held up a palm and the dentist sat back down.

  “She tried hard to forget you. She tried harder to make things right. She blames herself for her mother’s death.”