Courtship: A 'Snowflake' Novel

by Nia Forrester

  “Nothing about the time I’m with you is an ordeal,” he said. “And yeah, we are different. But I like our differences. They way you’re different from me … it makes me better. Makes me want to be better.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  She always felt on the precipice with him and wallowing in uncertainty. His comfort with silence made her want to guess at his thoughts, or goad from him some show of extreme emotion. Anything to interrupt his quietude which sometimes felt like indifference.

  “Yeah, baby. I do.”

  His forefinger was on her chin, and Jada instinctively turned toward him once again, and they were kissing. Soft, smooth, slow kisses. When he kissed her this way, their differences didn’t matter. Lisa and Chloe and Kyle and her friends’ judgment didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

  ~~~

  They went back in for the cutting of the cake and by then, Jada could see that the guys had already been out back to drink. They were even louder, a little grabby with their girlfriends and spluttered into laughter at stupid things, or nothing at all. Chloe looked vaguely embarrassed when everyone was singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and the guys amused themselves by being purposely discordant and off-key. Her lower lip trembled a little as she blew out her candles.

  Jada knew that she had probably built up in her mind some unattainable perfection for her eighteenth birthday, the first party she was allowed to have without parents in attendance. Jada’s own eighteenth had been dinner at a nice restaurant with her parents, and Lisa along with them as a special treat. Her father had given her a 14-carat gold necklace with a locket. Her mother had given her gold teardrop earrings. It had been celebration enough.

  That evening in bed, she had written Prophet (because that was what she still called him then) and told him all about it. He wrote back and told her it sounded perfect.

  I wish I’d been there, he said. But in a way it’s good I wasn’t. Because what you deserve, I probably wouldn’t be able to get you.

  Jada thought about that as she and Lisa helped Chole cut large slices of the chocolate cake for everyone, and it made her feel better. Maybe Ibrahim didn’t talk a lot, and wasn’t as noisily expressive as these boys, but she knew him. She knew his heart.

  When the cake was cut, before serving everyone, they all—all the girls anyway—pulled gifts out of purses and bags. The presents were the kinds of things girls always got for their birthday since turning thirteen—earrings and inexpensive accessories from Claire’s, perfume, a book from Jada that Chloe would have to hide under her mattress since her mother was sure to confiscate it, and scented candles. David got Chloe a sterling silver bracelet which Jada thought was a perfectly fine gift from a boyfriend, but which Lisa rolled her eyes at.

  After all the squeals and obligatory sounds of appreciation for her presents, Chloe turned to serving the guys the slabs of cake they demanded in loud, drunken voices. Finally, she turned to Ibrahim to ask how big a piece he wanted, and Jada held up a hand, shaking her head.

  “He doesn’t eat cake,” she said almost instinctively.

  “None for me, thanks,” he confirmed.

  It was an inconsequential moment, but she felt smug for some reason.

  When she got her slice, and everyone was settled for the moment to enjoy eating, he reached for her hand and pulled her toward him, so she was sitting on his lap.

  Jada dug a big forkful and put it in her mouth to hide her smile. She barely tasted the cake. Ibrahim’s thigh, beneath her butt was solid and painfully present. She scooted back a little, wanting to not be on his knee, but nestled into his groin. He put a hand at her waist, to thwart the move, and Jada felt her face grow hot.

  After that, she couldn’t even turn to look at him. But she couldn’t make herself get off his lap either. She liked being there, because it meant that if any girls looked over at him (and some had been looking, all evening) they would know that they were together.

  When everyone had finished their cake, Chloe’s good spirits returned, and she wanted to do some more skating. By then, David had begun acting like a boyfriend again and took her. Everyone else followed, but Jada sat there on Ibrahim’s lap, her back stiff, her plate empty, except for the chocolate icing hollowed out of cake leaning a little against the plastic fork.

  “What time you gotta be home tonight?”

  Jada felt his warm breath against the back of her neck as he spoke. It made goosebumps rise on her arms and a pleasant chill go down her back.

  “Same time,” she said. “Midnight.”

  Ibrahim lifted his arm and she noticed for the first time the heavy, silver watch on his wrist, the smooth dark hairs on his sinewy arm.

  “We got like an hour and a half,” he said. “But you know I don’t like taking you back that late.”

  “That’s my actual curfew,” she said. “It’s not like you’ll lose brownie points for taking me home at my curfew.”

  “I know. But …”

  “Is there someplace else you want to be?” she asked testily. “Is that it?”

  “What?”

  “I’m just saying. It’s like …” She stopped and shook her head, not knowing how to continue, then sighed, her shoulders slumping.

  “Jada.” He put both his hands on her waist, trying to get her to turn around.

  She did. But in doing so, straddled him—her legs open and on either side of his—which she knew from his expression wasn’t what he had in mind. A tiny pulse beat visibly at the side of his neck, and he swallowed.

  “What’s goin’ on with you? Why you so moody tonight?”

  “We can leave,” she said, feeling bolder now. “But if we do, I want to go somewhere to be with you. Just the two of us.”

  “Jada …” His gaze drifted off to the left, away from her.

  “I’m not a virgin, y’know,” she said.

  Ibrahim’s head jerked up a little his eyes meeting hers.

  “You’re surprised”

  He nodded. A little one. His brow furrowed.

  “Are you disappointed?”

  His eyes fell from hers and his brows furrowed more, like he was thinking about the question.

  “Are you?” she pressed.

  Finally, he shook his head. “Not … disappointed. Just … I didn’t.”

  “You are disappointed. I can tell.”

  “I’m …” He was squinting now, trying to discern his own emotions. “I’m … surprised.”

  “It was only one person,” Jada said, now desperate to mitigate the damage.

  She just wanted him to know that they could have sex. But she didn’t want him to think that she had sex with just anyone.

  “You ready to go now?” he asked.

  Jada nodded. “If you are.”

  “I’m ready,” he said. He put his hands on her waist, lifting her a little, so Jada got off him. She collected her skates and took them back to the reclaim her sneakers.

  When she came back, she waved Chloe over and hugged and kissed her, wishing her ‘Happy Birthday.’

  “You’re leaving already?” Chloe whined, looking over her shoulder toward Ibrahim.

  Jada nodded and bit back a little smile. “Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow though.”

  Chloe’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh,” she said. “Okay. Well … thanks for the book! Call me, okay? Make sure you …”

  “Yes. I will.” Jada was already backing away.

  She saw that Lisa, further out on the floor had taken notice of her and Chloe and was preparing to come over, so she turned and walked away, not wanting to delay her departure with Ibrahim any longer.

  When she was next to him, he raised a hand in a wave at Chloe and they walked out together, not speaking. At the door, a fresh crowd of noisy patrons were entering, jostling each other as they came in.

  Ibrahim reached for her hand and pulled Jada closer to him to get her out of traffic and she leaned against him, wanting to wrap an arm around his waist, wanting his arm draped over her shoulder. Bu
t all he did was hold her hand. He held it until they were at his borrowed car and released it only to unlock the doors and hold hers open for her.

  “Where are we going?” Jada asked as he backed out of the parking space. “Is there a place …?”

  “I’m taking you home,” he said, not looking at her.

  “Home? But I thought …”

  “I know, but …”

  “Ibrahim.”

  He said nothing.

  And she said nothing.

  They said nothing for the entire drive back to her house. And when he walked her to the door, and waited until she opened it and was inside, he didn’t kiss her goodnight, or even say the words.

  26

  Then

  “My mother found me a girl,” Raj said.

  Ibrahim laughed. “Just like that, huh?”

  “Believe me, it wasn’t ‘just like that.’ It was a very involved process.” He pronounced the word ‘Pr-OH-cess’, the British way. “There were birth charts, and recommendations, family background checks. An entire … thing.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Not at all.” Raj shook his head. “It’s what we do in my culture sometimes. Use matchmakers. That’s what my mother did.”

  “And what’re you supposed to do with her, now that your mother … found her?”

  Shrugging, Raj leaned against the doorframe.

  He had taken a break and was keeping Ibrahim company while he cleaned the server room. In another half hour or so, they would eat. Raj brought even more food now that there was a weekly routine of Ibrahim eating what he called “supper” with him.

  Neither of them was surprised by their friendship any longer. It just was.

  “I’m supposed to marry her.”

  “You serious?”

  Raj nodded.

  “And? Are you going to?”

  “Of course.”

  “Raj, man. You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” He sounded genuinely curious.

  “Because, do you love her? Or like her? Or even … know her?”

  “I like her,” he said, giving another nod, this time a firm one. “I like her very much. She’s a nice Punjabi girl, with good parents. Very smart. Good work ethic. She’s studying to be a medical doctor. I might even be a step down for her.”

  “Why?” Ibrahim was insulted on his friend’s behalf. “You’re about to go to MIT. Ain’t no way she’s smarter than you.”

  Raj smiled at that.

  “But my profession. It won’t make money for quite some time. Or maybe never. I’m probably not a good risk. But apparently her parents put a lot of stock in the charts, and they say we’re perfectly-matched.”

  “What’re these charts you keep talking about?” Ibrahim was emptying a large bin of discarded paper into an even larger bin that he would have to take out back at the end of the shift.

  “It’s basically astrology. Traditional …”

  “Wait. So, you’re going to marry someone because your horoscope says you should?”

  “It’s more complicated than that, but yes, she’s going to marry me because her charts and mine align.”

  “And you believe in that stuff.”

  “I believe I don’t know everything. And I know what I’ve seen in other marriages arranged this way.”

  “You might not know everything, cuz. But you do know you’re into that chick, though. Mean Molly.”

  At the sound of the name, Raj smiled.

  “I am into Molly,” he conceded. “But I don’t know. Maybe I’m into her because she’s mean to me. Or because of the sex. And we both know, those are not good reasons.”

  That had been a new development. Raj and Molly were sleeping together now. Ibrahim had coached him into the drawers, basically; telling him that what he needed to do with Molly was give as good as he got. If she was mean, Raj needed to be mean right back; and dismissive as well.

  After a few attempts, Raj couldn’t manage to be mean exactly. He just didn’t have that kind of spirit, but he was able to be dismissive and even ignore Molly, except when they were talking about work. And within two weeks, she was the one doing the chasing. It took only a month before he was getting it on with her regularly.

  “So, you can marry this other girl … What’s her name?”

  “Vidhya.”

  “So, you can marry Vidhya, and still be into Molly?”

  “We won’t be married right away. Probably when I go to graduate school in Cambridge. She’ll be there, too. At Harvard if she gets in. We’ll do it then.”

  “And until then, you just plan to keep bonin,’ Molly?”

  “No.” Raj sounded regretful. “I can’t do that. If Vidhya and I, and our families reach an understanding, I’ll have to stop with Molly. I have to give Vidhya my full focus, get to know her. Get to love her.”

  Ibrahim tied off the large plastic bag with the discarded paper and peeled off his blue work gloves.

  “That’s crazy, man. But what if Molly is the one you want to be with? You’re just gon’ walk away from that?”

  “Yes. Because what we want isn’t always what’s good or right for us.”

  “And Molly’s not good or right for you?”

  “Definitely not,” Raj said with a laugh. “And when I met Vidhya last week …”

  “Wait. You only just met her last week?”

  “Yes.”

  “For the first time?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you plan to marry her.”

  “I think so, yes. She’s a beautiful girl, so I’m not worried about not being attracted to her. And she has all the qualities I could want in a wife.”

  “So, what happens now?”

  “Now, I’ll court her. She’s at UCSF, so we can see each other quite a bit.”

  “Court her?”

  “Yes. Her family, my family … it’s not a casual thing. The intention is for this to lead to marriage.”

  “And Molly …”

  Shrugging, Raj nodded in the direction of the breakroom. It was time to eat.

  “Molly will meet a nice, strapping young man from Idaho. He’ll be much more handsome than she is pretty, but still not be good enough for her. But she’ll think of him as an accomplishment, a catch, because he’s handsome.

  “She’ll make more money than him for a while, then she’ll squelch her ambition so he doesn’t feel emasculated. And in time, he will be the superior breadwinner. And they’ll go on to have a perfectly acceptable, reasonably happy All-American marriage.”

  Ibrahim laughed. “That’s cold.”

  “It’s the reality,” Raj said. “I know who Molly is. She’s wonderful, and our physical relationship is satisfying. But she’s not the girl who will bring home a skinny Indian boy with an accent. And I’m not prepared to be the skinny Indian boy Molly, or some other girl just wants to piss off her parents with.”

  “Your physical relationship is … satisfying?” Ibrahim teased as they headed for the breakroom. “Is that code for she sucks your dick?”

  Raj blushed and shook his head. “Ibrahim,” he said, his voice chiding. “What happens between a man and woman … it’s private. It’s sacred.”

  Ibrahim rolled his eyes. “Okay. So you’re having sacred sex with Molly, the chick you’ve already decided you’re dumping to marry Vidhya. A’ight, man.”

  Raj shrugged. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I see absolutely no conflict in that.”

  ~~~

  “how’re things with you and the high-schooler?”

  “She’s eighteen, man. Stop calling her a high-schooler. And things are … they’re fine, I guess.”

  “Why are you guessing?” Raj asked. “Did she throw you over for the captain of the football team or something?”

  “Throw me over?”

  “Dump you.”

  “Yeah. I figured. And no, she didn’t dump me. But …” Ibrahim paused and shoveled in some rice and chicken vindaloo, chewing thoughtfully. />
  “But what?”

  “I haven’t called her in like, a week.”

  “Why not?”

  He was embarrassed to admit it, but Jada caught him off-guard when she said she wasn’t a virgin. If he had to bet, he would have bet it all that she was. And when she asked if he was disappointed that she wasn’t and he said ‘no’, it was true. He hadn’t been disappointed, he’d been destroyed.

  She had been paging him ever since. Had started that same night and hadn’t let up since. Twice a day, he got pages from her, like she was on a schedule—once in the morning, once in the evening. Twice a day he ignored them.

  He wasn’t angry at her. And he didn’t feel betrayed. He felt … late. Like he had missed a connection that was supposed to take him to an urgent destination.

  Jada was supposed to be his. Except someone had gotten there first. Maybe because he’d been locked up? Had someone been fucking her while he was in jail?

  Foolishly, stupidly, the night she told him, the night of her friend’s stupid birthday party, he lay awake in bed thinking that she should have told him. If she was out there screwing some dude while he was locked up, she should have told him. Except that was stupid. How was she supposed to write something like that in a letter?

  ‘By the way, while I write you, I’m out here boning someone else’?

  She didn’t owe him that then. There was even some ambiguity about whether she owed him that now.

  They were all cute and vague about what they were to each other. He was playing “boyfriend” at birthday parties and telling her in a jokey way that that’s what he was, but everything was still much too undefined. And it had begun to feel inadequate.

  Other things were coming together—he had a bank account for the first time in his life, he almost had enough to buy a car, he was eating clean, and had recently begun running just to clear his head and get away from the incessant din of his home-life.

  He needed what was happening between him and Jada to be defined too.

  “She told me she’s not a virgin,” Ibrahim said, finally.