I sighed, pushing the desserts away. “Learning Indian desserts will be the death of me. How is a girl to maintain her figure around here?”
“Ah yes, you want to look good in your new lengha for the wedding tomorrow.”
“It’s one thing to look like a sea creature, but quite another to look like a frumpy mermaid.”
“You’re being silly. Sea green looks great on you. You should think about getting married in a sari the same colour.”
“‘The Mermaid Gets Married.’ Sounds like a movie title. Funny, Mom.”
“Valentine’s Day is coming up — a great time for romantic proposals,” she winked.
“Well, if I did get married, I wouldn’t spend a whole year having events leading up to the main event. I came back to Vancouver ages ago and all I have been doing is going to henna parties and rehearsal dinners. Did you know I went to a function specifically held just for the ladies to learn how to dance? I mean, this is all getting fairly ridiculous. It’s about bloody time the wedding is here.”
“Meena wanted to do everything with a bang. Haven’t you enjoyed it? Call it mother’s intuition but I am certain it will be you next.”
“Goodnight, Mom.” I yawned, sliding my feet into my fuzzy slippers.
“Maybe I have just been picky with you because so far no guy has been good enough for my little girl, but I have to let go some time, right? A spring wedding would be beautiful!”
“Goodnight, Mom.”
As I fell asleep, I wondered if I would settle down in Vancouver or somewhere new. I had taught English at elementary schools in Tokyo for so long I wasn’t sure I knew how to do anything else. In my dreams, one minute I was on a rollercoaster, overlooking all of Vancouver, and then the next, the coaster parked itself at a restaurant in Japan and I was ordering udon. But this dream was different. Every detail was vivid, from my lavender nail polish to the way my tongue felt running over my teeth. When I looked down at myself, I was covered in sparkles, sweat, and layers of turquoise tulle. The bride and groom at the Indian wedding had just applauded my dance number. How did I get talked into dancing? I used to perform years ago, as a hobby, but here I was again, tight sari top and Hindi pop.
I couldn’t remember my own wedding taking place, but I was certain I had a husband, and that he had performed the number with me. How romantic we looked on stage, my hair fanned out in the air, while he flipped me up high. When I looked up to see who it was, his face was covered by the shadow of the curtain. The crowd had been extremely surprised to see my husband lip-synch the words to a popular Hindi song. How had a non-Indian managed to learn such authentic looking bhangra kicks? Making out his smile in the darkness, I was sure this man would do anything to make me happy.
“You look a little round in your belly.” Mom stood behind me in the buffet line. I could feel her eyes on my body. I shovelled green lumps of palak paneer onto my plate, keeping my eyes fixed on the hot tandoori naans that had just been dumped onto the steel warming plates.
“Are you calling me fat? I told you I am too old to perform like I’m a kid. Please, don’t suggest I do this again … ”
“You remind me of myself when I was young. It is so nice to see you up on stage, beta. You look like I did when I was pregnant with you.”
“What do you mean?” I grabbed some rice pudding from the dessert table.
“You’re pregnant, that’s what I mean.”
“Mom, please. I just got married!”
“How long do you think it takes, exactly?”
“Mom!”
“You shouldn’t dance anymore, though. God knows what those flips and flops did already.”
So silly, mothers. They thought they knew everything just because they fed and diapered us. Mom thought I wouldn’t survive living in Japan on my own, but I did. Mom thought I would never be able to dive because as a kid I wasn’t a water baby. Mom thought most of my ex-boyfriends were ghouls … Well, okay, she was right about that one. But how could my mother know my own body better than I knew it myself?
Then I was holding a pregnancy stick in my hand. The test was a clear positive. I would have a girl with black hair, fair skin, and my hazelnut yellow eyes. But soon the excitement turned into nausea: nausea in anticipation of eating; nausea during eating; nausea after eating. Is this what motherhood was all about, sacrifice and pain?
I sat up in bed. My bed in my room in my parents’ house. The baby was gone. The dream was gone. I felt empty at the loss, and so emotional. I clutched my stomach, wishing I hadn’t eaten so many desserts before falling asleep. I looked down at my ring finger. It was bare. I lived a lifetime in my dream, but in the morning, I was still the same unwed me.
The phone rang.
“Hello?” I said groggily.
“I hope you are ready for our Valentine’s date tonight,” said a deep voice.
“Valentine’s day is not until tomorrow, right?”
“Right, but I have a client meeting that I can’t get out of. I thought we’d go for dinner tonight and you’d come hand out some clean needles with me.”
“But Meena’s wedding is tonight. Remember I told you the story of how her first date with Shaan was on February thirteenth and that’s why they picked it for their wedding?”
Dylan huffed. “Weren’t you even going to invite me?”
“In the Indian culture you can’t invite a date if you’re not married or engaged.”
“You sound like you are from a different world altogether when you speak. The Indian culture: it’s like some sort of cult.”
I laughed. “Um, I think you are the expert on cults. Wasn’t it your mom who was convinced you had joined one because you liked Marilyn Manson?”
“It was Nine Inch Nails.”
“Sorry. There are some rules. They aren’t all bad. If I took you to the wedding, people would start asking us when the big day was.”
“No one needs for us to feel pressured. This is our relationship. We can go at our own pace. Can I see you at all?”
“To be honest, I’ve had quite enough of pre-wedding events. The reception starts late and there are so many girls in the bridal party. I think I can skip the spa party and meet them at the hotel before the limo gets there. It’s not like my cousin hasn’t milked this wedding for everything she possibly could. Can you meet at five?”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at our favourite spot. And, Maya?”
“Dylan?” I answered playfully.
“I am so glad you decided to give Vancouver a chance.”
Between going for a run and lunch with my mom, it was already time to leave. I looked at myself in the mirror. Instead of wearing the red strapless Yves Saint Laurent dress that I bought from a vintage shop in Tokyo a hundred years ago, I was adorned in sheathes of baby blue and teal frost. The crystal lengha top exposed my stomach, but a sheer aqua dupatta was pinned over it like a pageant sash. My eyes had picked up the maple syrup sparkle of my bangles. Was it a mistake to leave behind the red mini dress? I shrugged. Madonna and Gwen Stefani had rocked Indian culture since the nineties. It was time I embraced my own culture. Besides, I didn’t have time to make two outfit changes tonight. Getting into my car, I looked like a bride wearing too much tulle.
“Doesn’t the guy usually pick the girl up?” my mom called out from the window.
“Mom, that is so old-school. Get with the times. I’ll meet you later, yah?” I blew her a kiss.
Walking into the restaurant, I tightened my swing coat over my lengha. I passed by white couches illuminated by an opaque chandelier. People sipped neon cocktails while they tried to talk over loud techno. Large windows exposed city lights that twinkled against the night sky.
“Hi,” I said breathily, slipping off my coat.
“Wow, that is quite the costume,” Dylan bent over to kiss me on the cheek. He smelled like mint soap.
/> “I am going straight to the wedding after this, so … ”
“No, it’s quite exotic. You look like you should be in an Indian music video. Teeki teeki teeki teeki,” Dylan danced like he was screwing light bulbs in the ceiling.
“Right.” I looked at the menu.
“Here is your Valentine’s present.” Dylan pushed a small box across the table.
I swallowed, wishing I had time to order a caramel apple martini. My arms, decorated in glittery bracelets, shook uncontrollably. Forcing my fingers to cooperate, I fiddled with the box. A heart-shaped pendant necklace with a small diamond fell out.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Isn’t it gorgeous? My sister helped me pick it out. You haven’t had a chance to meet her yet. And there is an important question that goes along with it.”
I closed my eyes. Butterfly imprints of sweat formed under my armpits.
“Would you do the honour of moving in with me?” Dylan said smoothly, like he was a late night show host delivering his punch line.
13
SOMEHOW IT BECAME TWO in the morning. I was standing in front of a gas station, pumping gas in five-inch stilettos, my lengha blowing furiously around me. I was an ocean made entirely from sea-foam tulle.
“I wish I had a cigarette,” I said into my cellphone.
“You don’t even smoke,” said Matt laughing. “The night couldn’t have been that bad, Maya. Didn’t you have fun at the wedding?”
“Meena looked stunning, of course. But I have to be honest, I pretty much blanked out after the dinner disaster. He asked me to move in with him, Matt. Not marry him, fucking move in!”
“Were you expecting a proposal? You just met this dude.”
“I admit I’ve been watching way too many corny movies, and then my mom put all this wedding nonsense in my head … but that isn’t even the main thing I’m upset about. What kind of guy asks a girl to marry him before he tells her he loves her? We skipped a pretty huge step, don’t you think?”
“What I think is that I should take you out on a cheer-up dinner tomorrow night.”
“Isn’t tomorrow the real Valentine’s Day?” I asked.
“As opposed to what, the fake one?”
“No, I meant … never mind. I’d rather finish that Brazilian movie we were watching. I don’t want to go to a place that won’t let me in wearing sweatpants.”
“The characters have been living in a desert for half the movie. Don’t even pretend you understand the plot. Wearing sweatpants will just depress you even more.”
“I am fascinated with deserts, don’t you know this about me? Since I have moved back from Tokyo I have been fantasizing about moving to some place with deserts for miles. Besides, Valentine’s Day is so overrated. What guy can live up to the expectations instilled in a woman because she has watched too many romantic movies? What was I expecting? That the ceiling would open up and a thousand red and pink balloons would fall out as he proposed on one knee? A heart-shaped diamond pendant is a perfectly acceptable Valentine’s Day present. He didn’t propose, but what if he had? Is he even the right guy for me? Oh, I am so confused.”
“Wear something nice and we’ll go out tomorrow night, okay? Don’t overthink things. We’ll put this nightmare date of yours behind you.”
In the back of my head I couldn’t help but wonder how Tabatha felt about lending Matt to me for the night. But the next night I was in a fitted black dress, smudging smoky eyeshadow into the creases of my eyelids.
Matt was wearing a blazer and pressed pants. Hip-hop blared in the car, an odd contrast with his dress shoes. I relaxed. Snoop Dogg could not, under any circumstance, compose a romantic ballad. There was no Valentine’s Day theme going on here. Just two best friends going out on the town.
“Where are we going?” Without thinking, I flipped open the mirror hidden under the passenger sun visor, and checked my teeth for lipstick.
“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, now would it?”
“Can’t you tell from yesterday I am sort of done with surprises?”
We ended up at the base of Grouse Mountain. We took a gondola to reach the restaurant at the top. The air was cool and crisp and very much like a peppermint gum commercial. I tightened my Burberry scarf. One passenger harassed the guide about facts on pine trees, “These evergreens must be semi-deciduous … ” Who cares, I thought. I tried to send this message to Matt. But his eyebrows were stitched together, like he was on the verge of solving some mathematical equation.
The restaurant was dressed in opulent white Christmas décor — all white lights and swan feathers. Matt insisted on starting with a good bottle of wine, and finishing with maple crème brûlée. I fished a lip-gloss out of my clutch and shrugged my shoulders. I was a sucker for desserts with an ice rink of sugar made possible by a blow torch. Outside, the panoramic view of the sky looked like a Van Gogh painting, complete with finger-painted swirls of ultramarine and cornflower blue.
“That waiter was something, huh?” muttered Matt, manoeuvring the car back down from the base of the gondola through the mist and mountain roads. “I can’t believe he brought you a list of house music suggestions because you complimented the music.”
“I didn’t expect to hear house music in such an upscale restaurant. Violins or piano compositions, maybe, but next time I’ll keep my thoughts to myself,” I swore solemnly.
We drove around aimlessly, passing by my house. We did some figure eights, and looped right back in front of my place.
“OK, well, thank you?”
“Why is your thanking me a question?”
“Well, you have taken quite the scenic route to get me home. But seriously, thank you. Your cheer-up dinner did actually help me clear my mind. Vancouver has a lot to offer if I can just focus on myself, and not worry about finding someone else to complete me. This was the best Valentine’s Day I have ever had. No pressure, no expectations.”
“Actually, I did want to talk to you about something at the restaurant. That darn waiter … Care to do a few more rounds in the car with me?”
“Depends,” I asked, one foot pointed like a ballet dancer outside the car. “Are you hungry?”
“We just had dinner.”
“But the portions were kid-sized!”
“French fries?” he laughed.
“With McChicken sauce is what I am thinking.”
There was no line up at the drive-thru. I opened up the greasy brown paper bag, taking a whiff. “Now this is more like it.”
“I thought you needed a fancy dinner to make Vancouver more exciting for you. And look at you. Cheap French fries is all you needed. I know there is only one exquisite restaurant that sits atop Grouse Mountain. But don’t they have fast food places everywhere you have travelled?”
“Don’t you know anything about travelling? The French fries never taste as good anywhere else as at home.”
“Is that so?”
“I swear. So what’s going on with you … girl problems?” I popped a French fry in my mouth.
“Okay, there is no better way to say this.” He cleared his throat and looked at me. “I love you.”
Swallowing a lump of grease and salt, I raised my eyebrows as high as they would go.
“No, you heard correctly. I love you. Ever since we were kids, I just wasn’t brave enough to admit it. I’ve compared every other girl I have ever dated to you, and they’ve never measured up … ”
“You really can’t mean this. What about Tabatha?”
“Tabatha?”
“She knits you sweaters, and … ”
“Tabatha and I broke up. She does not knit me sweaters … ”
“My mom saw you ring shopping with a girl at the mall. And you talked about her from time to time … ”
“I wasn’t in love with Tabatha. I tho
ught by buying her a ring I’d somehow feel more passionate about her. But when push came to shove, I couldn’t go through with it — I wasn’t feeling the connection.”
“Where is she now?”
“Tabatha? She’s where she always was, living on Commercial Street. She was a huge part of my life so I still talk about her, but we aren’t in contact. I wish we could be friends but things got a bit messy after we broke up. She is pissed because I sort of, might have, talked about you a lot when we were breaking up.” Looking sheepish, he continued. “I told her I had feelings for you and it was standing in the way of me committing to her. That didn’t go over well. Maya, I wanted to tell you how I felt about you right when I saw you. And I wanted to tell you I broke up with Tabatha but then I would have had to tell you why I broke up with her and that would have been awkward. And then you started dating this Dylan dude, and … Look, all that’s unimportant … I lo … ”
“Don’t say it again! Oh my god! Ugh!”
“Did you actually just say ‘ugh’?”
“I thought you were, like, taking me out for a cheer-up dinner.”
“You are sounding very seventh grade all of a sudden.”
“I’m sounding seventh grade? What about you? What’s next? Are you going to ask me to go steady? Maybe you have a love note you want to read? A mixed tape?”
“Coming clean with my feelings is very mature, actually. We haven’t even dated and we have favourite foods, favourite movies, and favourite rituals! Most married people don’t have more than a sappy love song! I’d be a fool not to marry you.”
I took a long drink of water so I didn’t have to say anything.
“I can see this is moving rather quickly for you.” He gripped the steering wheel hard, sucking air in through his teeth.
Trees whizzed by. “Did you give any thought to our friendship before you decided to come out with this?”
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