“Funny, I was thinking the same about you.”
“You are sadly mistaken.” I shake my head.
“So are you, so I guess we’re even then.” He has me there, so, I change the subject.
“What made you choose Penn State?”
“I wanted a big school. Somewhere academic but where I could go Greek if I wanted, and have a wide range of connections. And you know, good looking girls.”
I laugh. “Clearly, a high priority. How did that work out for you?”
“I’m sitting with one, aren’t I?” he cheekily responds.
“Thank you,” I reply, bashfully.
“What was your reasoning? If the Indian thing is to be a crazy academic, why aren’t you at Yale or Harvard or something?”
“They didn’t want me,” I tell him cheerfully.
“Oh. I’m sorry. They’re idiots.”
“Really. There’re no hard feelings. I’m perfectly fine being here with people like you.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m a moron?”
“No! I just meant–I’d rather be in a place where people… I just like you. People like you. I like being with people who are like you because you’re smart and fun.” I sound like a bumbling idiot. You deserve to be single. You really are a Nitwit.
He watches, amused, while I fumble my way through an answer. I give up stuttering and sigh; my eyes dart around for a place to hide. His, on the other hand, sparkle, and his smile gets bigger and bigger until he finally bursts out laughing, a sound that I’m convinced I’ll never get tired of hearing. “You’re cute when you’re nervous. I was going to tell you I was kidding.” He chortles again.
“Were you?” I meet his warm gaze.
“Completely. But it’s sort of fun watching your squirm.”
“You’ll pay for that someday,” I warn him.
“I hope so.” He smirks.
There it is again. That electric charge. It’s as if the air between us has solidified into a molten mass, white-hot and pulling us together like magnets. My heart pounds so hard, I’m afraid it’ll break the stone we are sitting on. His eyes stare into mine, and I am engulfed by their vibrant green sheen. James crosses his legs and straightens his back, shifting his posture. He’s closer to me now. I can see the shade of stubble on his chin and exactly where his jaw flexes. There’s a scar on his forehead near his eyebrow, and I wonder distractedly where he got it.
“You can really see the stars out tonight.” He tilts his head. I turn around, taken aback by the change of subject. The shadows of the mountains in the distance are huge waves of dark blue on the horizon. The green grass in the fields behind the pavilion appears teal in the night. There are no lights there, while the other side of the arboretum is lit by campus streetlights. The stars are brilliant, glittering specks against a dark background. Suddenly, one jets across the sky, trailing faint white light behind it. It travels so quickly, my eyes can hardly keep up.
“Hey!” James and I cry out, pointing to the shooting star. The second it disappears into the universe, I close my eyes.
“What’re you doing?” James whispers. I hold up a finger to make a wish, willing it to happen with all of my heart and soul. I wish this night would never end.
“I had to make my wish,” I whisper back. I’m not sure why, but after the fleeting glimpse of the meteor, it feels appropriate.
“What did you wish for?” He has shifted his weight again, his position mirroring mine perfectly.
“I can’t tell or it won’t come true. Did you wish for anything?”
He shakes his head, smiling.
“It’s not too late. You still have time. Give it a shot.”
He closes his eyes, and the vision of him with his eyes serenely closed, cross-legged on the stone floor inches away from me, is seared into my mind. He looks so peaceful, like a child. A wistful smile lingers on his lips–until his eyes flutter open, and his smile turns playful.
“Are you going to tell me what you wished for?” I repeat his question.
“It won’t come true,” he echoes my response.
We are inches apart. Our faces tilt toward one another, our images reflecting in each other’s eyes.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispers.
“I really want you to,” I reply, breathlessly.
He moves in closer, taking his time. The world has stopped. There are no passing cars, no breezes blowing through the trees, no ties binding us to anyone but each other. When his lips finally touch mine, it is as if a fire bursts to roaring, glorious life inside me–it is flaming, reaching for any way to free itself from my body. Though I’ve never done this before, I have no worries. I am a lost soul, and he is my lifeline.
“You taste like chocolate,” he whispers to me, grinning.
“Is that a racial reference?” I ask him, smiling.
He laughs softly, his forehead pressed against mine, his hand still grazing my cheek, fingers entwined in my hair. “I guess I got what I wished for.”
“You wasted a wish. I would have kissed you anyway,” I tell him playfully.
“I didn’t want to take any chances,” he murmurs and kisses me again.
I am in heaven, and there is nowhere I would rather be.
month and a half passes. James and I have spent every Friday together like clockwork. Sometimes we go out to eat or see a movie. Other times, we stay in and laze around on the comfortable red sofa in my living room, chattering about everything from politics (which we hardly ever see eye to eye on) to whether the last few seasons of House and Scrubs (the only TV shows we seem to have in common) were as good as the first. He is the most stimulating person I’ve ever met, always asking Why? or What makes you think that? I don’t ever feel defensive, but I have learned to defend my position with more than I just think so. He’s rational, almost too much so, and logic and reason are qualities he values.
Sophia’s heated arguments, the ones where she’d yell, “What an asshole!” as she hung up on the unfortunate person on the other end of the line come to mind as the perfect antithesis to the debates James and I have. He doesn’t lose his patience… like the day I stewed about missing a few points on a test I shouldn’t have blanked on.
Sitting on my couch that night, his arm around my shoulders, when I finally laughed at a joke on Scrubs, he looked at me and asked, “So are you ready to talk now, or do you want to watch another episode?”
I challenge him too. There are no inhibitions with him, so I take my chances that he won’t like what I have to say when I argue with him about ethics or hot button issues on the news. And like anyone else, while I have moments of insecurity or doubt about my inexperience, I make no apologies for who I am. He says it’s his favorite thing about me and though I won’t admit it, it’s my favorite thing about me, too. And when you find someone who values the same things in yourself that you do, there’s a burst of happiness that’s hard to put out. We shine together and separately.
“You’re getting super close, and you’re going to hurt yourself,” Sejal, who knows now about James, says with the eye of a mother and the attitude of a friend. Her words are weighted–when she says I’ll hurt myself, she means I’m making a mistake. Sometimes it feels like concern masking a judgment about my choice. Her words have merit, but every time I pause to consider them, I’m forced to put it off by homework, Sophia, James, or myself. I don’t want to think about it and selfishly, I would much rather continue whatever it is, this clandestine affair, than end it due only to familial expectations. I am throwing caution to the wind, and I like it. Sophia is the other extreme, planning my wedding before we’ve decided to be exclusive, though in truth, it goes without saying.
My birthday is on a Monday this year, and twenty-two feels less special than twenty-one. For my twenty-first, Sophia called in a favor and had a VIP room set up for us at Indigo. Twenty-two seems like a forgotten year between the milestone twenty-first and quarter-century twenty-fifth. I figure it’s appropri
ate. I want a quiet night, so I have some girlfriends over for pizza and a movie. At midnight, there is a knock. James holds out a wrapped box as soon as I open the door.
“This is a pleasant surprise!” I let him in and ignore Sejal and Sophia poking their heads out of the kitchen.
“Happy birthday!” he exclaims with childish enthusiasm as he hands me the gift and comes in for a kiss. “Twenty-two has to start off right.”
Savannah’s audible aww resounds, and James goes to introduce himself. I open the box at the table while my friends do their interrogation bit. James will handle the heat just fine, so I barely pay attention. Instead, my eyes mist at the picture frame containing a photograph from the week before, one of the few football games I’ve been to. I barely remember who we played, and James had to explain every rule. We are flushed from being squished among twenty thousand other students, but his arms are around me, and we look thrilled. A book that I’ve wanted to read also rests in the lovingly wrapped box. The gift, simple and thoughtful, brings me peace but also a sense of urgency. I need to tell James about our customs, but the timing never seems right. Even as I get ready to speak to him, he makes Savannah laugh, and Aria stares at him, wishful thinking plain on her face. Maybe it can keep a little longer.
Amma Skypes me just before Thanksgiving break. James and I are studying, a common thing for the two of us. I’ve become accustomed to his presence around the kitchen table. Sometimes we study for chemistry together, and other times he focuses on law while I work on biology. I turn the computer away so there isn’t a sign of James in the shot, something I hate myself for doing but feels necessary.
“Nithya?” Her voice blares over my laptop speakers as her face comes into view on the screen. Skype is new technology for my mom, who is a technophobe, so her voice is ten decibels louder than it needs to be.
“Hi, Amma. You don’t have to yell, I’m right here.” I wince.
She apologizes but still sounds like she’s screaming from Philadelphia for me to hear her. I tell her I can’t talk too long, that I’m studying for our last round of exams this week before we are released for the weeklong break. She says she understands before asking if I’ve eaten.
And once I’ve answered in a rote positive, she asks, “Have you heard from any schools yet?”
“No, Amma. I told you last time we talked it’ll be at least January before I hear back.” I try to be patient, though I’ve explained the process what feels like a million times.
“I forgot. You don’t need to take that tone with me, kanna, I was just asking.”
“Sorry, Amma. I’m just tired.” What I really am is guilty for hanging out with James when I am talking to her. I give her the impression I’m a good girl, but I’m not. “How is everyone at home? Where are Nanna and Anisha?”
“Hi Akka.” I hear Anisha and then see her. She is behind my mother in the kitchen, wearing sweats and shoveling samosas in her mouth.
“Swallow before you talk to me, Anisha. That’s gross.”
James’ lips have curled up. I ignore him so my parents don’t know he’s in the room. Then I feel worse because I’m treating him like he’s something hidden away out of embarrassment.
“Whatever, you’ll be here in a week so you can see it all the time.” Anisha rolls her eyes. Typical.
“How’s school?” I ask her, trying to avoid an argument.
“Same old. I am going out to the soccer game tonight, but I’ll catch you later.”
“Nanna is still at work, Nithya. Oh–Anisha, be careful and make sure you take a snack with you, just in case–no, kanna, just do as I say.”
After a few minutes of listening to them argue, I tell them I have to study and to have this out on their own time. I don’t mean to be cranky, but balancing James and my family in the same moment stresses me out. It’s my fault, and I’m yet to figure out how to handle it.
“Oh–sorry, Nithya. Also! Very quickly before you go, I wanted to mention something. Neelam Atta called us yesterday. They have a boy in mind for you.”
The fight-or-flight response is a biological reaction to a threat. The hypothalamus activates the sympathetic nervous system and adrenal-cortical system and makes the body more alert, to either run or fight like hell for survival. Mine is in full gear right now. My skin becomes clammy, my blood rushes to my heart so I’m ready to run, and my breathing turns shallow.
“Not interested, Amma.” I wave my hand, trying for nonchalance while wondering if James has heard this. It’s impossible he hasn’t, but he’s still writing, the end of his pencil making circles in the air.
“No, Nithya, listen to me. You are twenty-two years old now. People are going to start asking about why you aren’t married.”
“Amma, until I turned twenty-two, everyone told me never to talk to a boy. Now you all are wondering why I’m not married already? Really? When did we make that jump?”
Nanna’s tactic of humor in lieu of tension is in full play. God, I hope she laughs and agrees.
“Don’t joke. We have to consider every boy. This is your future!” Clearly, she’s not in the mood to play games.
“It is my future, Amma, but I’m only twenty-two. I have things to do… and doesn’t Neelam Atta have something better to do with her time? She just got done with her own kid’s wedding.”
“Don’t talk like that about your aunt,” she says, defending her nemesis. “She has a point. If we wait too long, you’ll start considering other options. We can’t have you marrying whoever you want.”
And with that, my mother checkmates me. My mouth drops open. How on earth could she possibly know I’ve been seeing James? Did I slip up somehow? For a moment, I have the irrational thought that she has been in town and seen James and I holding hands or kissing at the ends of our dates. Indians run a secret spy network, fueled by gossip and funded by rumors. This is bad. Calm down, Nithya. You can get through this.
“I’m not accusing you,” she continues, mistaking my gaping mouth for insult rather than shock. “You have to be careful nowadays. Once you fall in love, it is very difficult to fall out of it. It’s better for everyone if you begin considering our options now so there are no surprises.”
But it’s too late. The joke is on me. Amma has unknowingly countered my unpleasant surprise for them with a bombshell of her own. It may not have been a strategic move on her part, but the king on my chessboard is waving his white flag.
“I’m going to study, Amma,” I say, wearily. “Love you.”
It would be easy if James heard about my parents’ plans and lashed out, walking away for good. I would know I didn’t make the choice to leave. It may be a cowardly way out, but an easy one. On the flip side, if I didn’t get to explain, there would be no chance of getting past it… Although, who would actually be able to get past that kind of revelation? Only one way to find out, Nithya. I look over at the couch.
James is staring at me, his jaw in a straight line. It doesn’t take me more than a second to identify the look on his face: he’s angry.
“What the hell, Nithya?” His fury makes his voice shake, but he is deadly calm. This isn’t about you, it’s about me, I want to say. But is it?
This is one of those moments where looking in the mirror doesn’t yield what you are looking for. Instead, all the occasions I could have and should have told James about the elephant in the room come to mind. I chose to stay silent. I have avoided the truth for this long, knowing there was a possibility I would lose him. I put it off for a reason, one that even now does not escape me: I was hoping it would go away. And bearing that my feelings for James were strong enough, I would find the strength to fight for us. I wanted to keep the rules away from him, to tackle the situation without involving him at all. In other words, I was being selfish.
“We need to talk about this, that’s all.” I’m surprised at how calm my voice sounds because my insides are doing the cha-cha.
“Oh, so now you want to talk?”
“What is that suppo
sed to mean?” The insinuation that I’m a dishonest person gets under my skin. Lies are lies even if they’re by omission, I can hear Sophia tell me.
“Was this some kind of a fling?” His voice is rising now.
“Of course not!” I snap.
“So, what? You wanted to let me down easy? You just weren’t going to tell me? What were you thinking?” He stands.
“I was thinking the future isn’t set in stone.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure your mom just said it is.” He sounds so doubtful of everything I say, and the notion kills me.
“Look, James, this entire conversation, my mom, all of it… it isn’t the way I would have wanted to talk to you about this.” Too little, too late, it seems.
“You think? I’m beginning to wonder if you would have ever mentioned it!”
“I was going to.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to lose you!”
He exhales loudly, before sitting back down, his hands balled up on his knees. If it’s the last time he’s here… well, I’ll have to get over it. I brought it on myself.
“You didn’t give me the chance to figure that out,” he says finally.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been putting it off because I was so happy… and I knew you’d want to walk if you heard.”
He opens his mouth like he wants to say something harsh, but closes it before taking another deep breath. When he speaks again, his voice is even. Amazing, because I still expect him to bite my head off. “So? What was that about, then?”
Where do I begin? Should I tell him this life has been planned out for me since I was born? Should I start by telling him my parents, and their parents, and their parents’ parents had the same setup? Do I tell him I can’t be with him? Can I handle him walking away? James expects honesty now, so I start at the beginning. I tell him about how arranged marriages aren’t as rigid as they used to be, but they filter out potential problems. How I never expected anything different. How I never expected him to come along and make me wonder if this is right for me.
The Rearranged Life Page 9