The Bollywood Bride

by Sonali Dev

  Ria had no idea how long she slept. It felt like days, like months. She slept like a hibernating animal who slept and slept until the world was ready for it again, until life seeped back into her limbs. Loving hands checked up on her in her dreams, touched her cheeks, her forehead, spoke caring words, propped her up, and gave her pills. Healed her.

  When her mind started to form thoughts again, she tried desperately to quiet it, to burrow under her comforter and steal a little more peace. But once the thoughts found a crack there was no pushing them away. They seeped into her brain like molten lava and pushed out the numbness of sleep. She opened her eyes. Even lifting her heavy eyelids felt like an effort. At first only fuzzy images appeared around her. A tall form slumped in the chair next to her. Her heart stuttered and her eyes flew open.

  He straightened. “Hey, starlet. You done with your beauty sleep?”

  She smiled. She could never be disappointed to hear that voice.

  “How long have I been out?” She sounded scratchy and parched.

  Nikhil helped her up and handed her a glass of water. “Long enough. How are you feeling?”

  She sat up and stretched her neck, twisted her body against the headboard. Nothing hurt. “Amazing,” she said truthfully.

  “How about your knee?”

  She bent her leg, expecting pain, but felt no more than a pinch. “Nothing. It feels fine.”

  She let Nikhil look at it. He poked and prodded, and made her push into his hand with her toes just the way Vikram had done by the river. But she felt nothing more than a little soreness. Her heart mimicked her leg—calm and rested and only the slightest bit sore. “Seriously, I feel really good. What did you guys give me?”

  Nikhil laughed. “Trade secret. If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

  “Yesterday I might have taken you up on that.” Ria smiled. “Can you at least set me up with more?”

  “Sure. I’ll hook you up with my dealer. You think you can get out of bed now? Aie’s ready to cancel the wedding.”

  Ria sprang upright. “Seriously?”

  “She’s pretty close. Honestly, I think she’s a little scared of Jen, otherwise she’d have done it already.”

  “Jen is a bit scary,” Ria said, smiling at Jen as she entered the room.

  “Only a bit?” Jen asked, sounding offended. She handed Ria a tray of steaming peppery rasam soup. Something suspiciously close to hunger gnawed at Ria’s insides. Ria didn’t remember the last time she had felt hunger. Really, what had they given her? She gulped down the soup while Nikhil teased her about it. “Really, starlet, it’s not that hard,” he said. “You eat, you sleep, and you don’t exhaust yourself until your body goes into shock. Can we try that please?”

  Ria glared at him, but couldn’t stop eating.

  Jen punched Nikhil’s shoulder and settled on the arm of his chair.

  “You’re right, she is a bit scary.” Nikhil rubbed his shoulder where Jen had hit him and gave her one of his caressing glances, obviously done with his little reprimand.

  Not that Ria didn’t agree with him. She had behaved horribly irresponsibly and she should have known better.

  “You look terrified,” she said, and spooned the last bits of the red lentils into her mouth. “But damn, she makes a great soup! Where did you learn this, Jen? It’s delicious.”

  Jen beamed. “Aie walked me through it. She has to be the most patient woman on the planet and definitely the best cook ever.”

  Jen had never met her birth mother. She’d lost her adopted mother at five, after which her adopted father hadn’t done much more than drink himself to death and leave her to spend her adolescence in foster homes. Uma and Vijay had taken her into their hearts with the same unconditional love they showered on all the children who came into their sphere. Jen’s connection with Uma gave Ria a special kinship with her. It was like they were sisters, lost ducklings taken under a common wing.

  “How do you feel?” Jen took the empty bowl from Ria and touched Ria’s cheek with the back of her hand. “No fever.”

  “I had a fever?”

  “Low grade. It was basically exhaustion. Your body needed rest. Lots of it.” Jen mirrored Uma’s admonishing look perfectly, reminding Ria of how idiotically she had behaved. Instead of helping with the wedding, she had put the family through all this worry.

  She swallowed. “I’m sorry.” From now on this trip was going to be about the wedding.

  This should be about Nikhil. Not about us.

  Us. She refused to think about how Vikram’s voice had melted around the word.

  “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” Jen smiled at Ria, but she threw Nikhil a worried glance.

  “What was that look for? Bad diagnosis? Is it fatal?”

  “No, drama queen, you’re fine. And it’s ‘prognosis.’ But Aie’s gone nuts on us. She wants us to cancel the bachelor and bachelorette parties and those aren’t until Friday. She’s already cancelled the dinner at Anu Auntie’s house tonight. The Auntie Brigade is hopping mad they haven’t got to spend time with you yet.”

  Ria frowned fiercely at Nikhil. “I’m dying to see the aunties too. Uma Atya can’t cancel. I’m perfectly fine.” She pushed the sheets away and swung her legs off the bed.

  “Well, Aie already bit Dad’s head off for suggesting you were fine. So I’m not going to be the bearer of that piece of good news.”

  “I’m marrying a wimp.” Jen pushed off the chair.

  “Why don’t you tell her, warrior princess?” Nikhil goaded.

  Jen took a deep dramatic breath and went off to do it, dropping a kiss on Ria’s head before leaving.

  “I just love Jen,” Ria said as soon as Jen left.

  “Yeah, me too.” Nikhil looked dreamily at the door.

  Ria reached out and ruffled his hair. “You lucked out, baby. She’s perfect for you.”

  Nikhil didn’t respond. No smart-aleck comeback. He turned to her, his face suddenly serious. If he gave her one of those trite lines about there being someone out there for her, she was going to scream. She felt better than she had in days, but hearing Nikhil spew that rubbish would make her sick.

  He didn’t.

  “Ria, what happened yesterday?” he asked instead, his tone so uncharacteristically accusatory her defenses shot right up.

  “My family drugged me and knocked me out because I was an idiot and almost killed myself running.”

  His frown deepened. “What was Vic doing out there with you?”

  Nikhil was bringing Vikram up? Ria couldn’t believe it. It had been the unwritten rule between them for the past ten years to never mention Vikram. Nikhil was the only one in the family who had known about Vikram and her, and he had kept their secret well. He had never asked any questions and she had never shared the sordid details of the breakup. She certainly was in no mood to change that now. But he sat there, his eyes boring into her for a response.

  “Nothing. We were just talking. Trying to make up for making fools of ourselves the day before.”

  Apparently it was not the answer he was looking for. He continued to stare at her as if he would explode if he didn’t say what was on his mind.

  “Spit it out, Nikhil. What’s bothering you?”

  He took a deep breath and did just that. “I think you should stay away from Vic.”

  “Excuse me?” Her fingers tightened around the comforter.

  He had the gall to look sympathetic. “Listen, Ria, there’s a lot you don’t know. He just met Mira and he seems happy. I haven’t seen him like this in a long time. But ever since you’ve come back . . . Just don’t start anything, okay?”

  Now Nikhil was protecting Vikram from her? Despair fisted around her heart. Anger rose inside her so fast and furious she wanted to shake Nikhil. Her first instinct was to suppress it and walk away. Instead she met his eyes and didn’t bother to hide her disappointment or her rage. He flinched.

  “Didn’t you hear me the other night?” she said. “I’m not
interested in a relationship. Not with anyone. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get up and get dressed. I’m sure I look far too bedraggled for a man-eating vamp.” She threw off the covers and pushed herself off the bed. Her knee gave only the slightest tug. Right about now she would’ve welcomed a nice, mind-numbing jolt of pain.

  “Ria, don’t be like this. He’s just—”

  “I don’t want to talk about him, Nikhil. It might make me start something you don’t want.” And with that she headed for the shower feeling dirtier than she had in a very long time.

  12

  “Absolutely not.” Uma Atya looked immovable. It would be easier to let her have her way, but Ria needed a distraction. She couldn’t stop fuming, or stop Nikhil’s words from playing in her ears over and over.

  “Please, Uma Atya, I’m dying to see the aunties, and look at me, I’m fine.” She pointed at herself. She had changed into jeans and a turquoise striped button down hoping against hope that her designer’s claim that the color made her glow held enough truth to convince her aunt.

  “You are not leaving the house today. You were out like a light, moaning and groaning in your sleep for two days. It’s out of the question.”

  Ria opened her mouth to argue. Uma raised a hand to stop her. “But the girls suggested moving the dinner here.” Before Ria opened her mouth again, Uma raised a stern eyebrow. “If you promise to stay on the couch the entire evening, we can move the party here. Anu’s been cooking for days, so it doesn’t make sense to let all that food go to waste.”

  Ria hugged her aunt. “Anything you say, Uma Atya,” she said into the sweet jasmine scent of her aunt’s hair. “But you’re not changing any other plans after this.”

  Uma kissed Ria’s forehead and gave her another arch look Ria had no doubt kept her students on their toes. “The bachelor party is safe. That Nikhil needs to fight his own battles, don’t you think?”

  Oh, she did think. And he also needed to butt the hell out of everyone else’s battles.

  Of all people, how had Nikhil got everything so dismally wrong? She refused to think about the fact that he had no way of knowing any different. She had never given him an explanation. She’d let him believe what she had wanted Vikram to believe, that she was a betraying bitch who had sold herself for a shot at stardom. She pushed away the bitter thought that wouldn’t stop niggling in her mind—that neither one of them had believed in her enough to push past her lies. She knew it wouldn’t have changed her choices, knew it was unfair to blame them, but it still stuck in her heart like the thinnest, sharpest splinter.

  The ever-present tangle of lies tightened around her like a hunter’s net. The more she pushed it away, the more it clung to her like sticky, spindly spiderwebs. But the truth had to remain hidden inside that godforsaken asylum and inside the cone of silence that was Uma, Vijay, and her, and, tragically enough, Vikram’s mother.

  If Vikram ever found out that Ria’s mother was alive, if he knew why she had really left him, if he saw any hope at all, she knew everything would change. Even now, despite all she’d done, he would flip everything over like a well-laid table without a thought for the priceless, irreplaceable china on it.

  It had taken one look into his eyes for her to know that.

  Just like it had taken only one look into his eyes to answer his question all those years ago.

  You want to be friends?

  And to know he meant it forever.

  No, Vikram could never find out the truth, or she would have no means to protect him. But she wanted Nikhil to believe in her with or without the truth. He was Nikhil. He had always been in her corner. He was her corner. It was horribly unfair of her, but she wanted him to know without being told that she would never do anything to hurt Vikram again.

  Just don’t start anything, okay?

  As if she needed Nikhil to tell her that. As if she needed anyone to remind her that starting anything with Vikram was like hanging an insane invalid around his neck and leaving him to drown. She knew only too well the devastation that was coming once her mind was gone. But while she had no choice but to follow in the footsteps of the woman who’d given birth to her in that one thing, unlike her, Ria would make sure she left as little wreckage behind as she could.

  Vikram and Mira were holding hands when Ria came down the stairs. Or, more accurately, Mira was holding on to Vikram. Her hand clutched the crook of his arm while his hand was tucked into his pocket. It was a minor detail, but it jumped out at Ria like a zoomed in close-up shot. The memory of his arms around her as he carried her across the yard sprang to life on her skin and she rubbed it away.

  Vikram caught her eye and gave her a polite nod, but Mira refused to meet her eyes or acknowledge her in any way. Ria wasn’t sure if she returned his nod before slipping away into the kitchen.

  “There’s our Ria!” The chorus of voices she’d been waiting to hear greeted Ria as she entered the kitchen.

  There was something so overwhelmingly familiar about seeing the Auntie Brigade packed around the kitchen island that for a wonderful instant Ria felt like a little girl again. They launched themselves at her, and she burrowed shamelessly into each of them as they pulled her into hugs. They were all draped in kurtis over jeans today, and Ria knew that an endless number of calls had been made to come up with the decision. For as long as Ria could remember, they had discussed what to wear for every occasion however big or small. “Are we doing Indian or regular?” or “I’m too tired to doll up, let’s just do jeans today,” or “We haven’t worn saris in ages. Everyone’s wearing a sari.” Whether it was a party, a play, or a picnic, they always came up with a dress code.

  Their husbands and kids teased them about it, but the dress code was as much a part of them as their friendship and the world of dependability they had created for each other as they turned a foreign land into home. Despite their moods and their personal preferences they always complied with the dress code. It was their thing.

  “I love the kurtis,” Ria said and they collectively launched into detailed accounts of where each kurti had come from, including how much each one had cost.

  Ria couldn’t help but smile.

  “See, now she’s laughing at us,” Radha said, one hand on her hip.

  “You deserve to be laughed at. I mean, who ever tells a film star how much they paid for a kurti in Delhi Haat on their last trip home?” Priya said, although she had done exactly the same thing.

  “I’m not laughing at you, Radha Auntie. I’m smiling because you all haven’t changed even one bit.”

  “Leh, why would we change?” Radha said, pointing at herself with exaggerated incredulousness. “Why change something so perfect, ha?”

  They laughed and Ria agreed heartily.

  “Vaise, you haven’t changed either, beta. Such a big star, but still as sweet as you always were,” Anu said, patting Ria’s cheek.

  “So true.” Sita smiled at her. “Not one spot of scandal. With all the dirty stories you hear about Bollywood, we were so worried when you joined films.” She squeezed Uma’s shoulder. “But Uma had one hundred percent faith in you and you’ve proved her right. We’re so proud of you.”

  Their faces glowed with pride, but it was Uma’s pride that stuck in Ria’s throat like a lump she couldn’t swallow around.

  “Arrey, I raised her. How could she ever do any of those dirty things?” Uma said, and Ria found it hard to breathe.

  She would not think about Ved. Not now, not here. The only remotely positive thing about her sordid liaison with Ved was that he had kept it out of the press. It had been his deal with his wife that he keep his filthy sluts private, and he was powerful enough that the press only printed what he okayed. Uma would die of shame if she or the aunties ever found out exactly how filthy Ria really was.

  “Ria, are you tired, beta?” Uma searched Ria’s face. “You know what, you promised to stay off your feet, let’s go.” She pushed Ria out of the kitchen. “Ria needs to rest and we need to get din
ner ready,” she said to the aunties.

  “Go, go, before your bossy atya throws us out of the house.” They waved Ria out of the kitchen and made her promise to fill them in on all the latest Bollywood gossip soon, every juicy detail of all the scandalous things they were so proud of her for not doing. Then they turned their attention to the endless foil trays filled with food.

  Uma pulled Ria into the family room, pushed her on the couch, and tried to prop her foot up on an ottoman.

  “Uma Atya, please. I really don’t need to.” Ria put her foot back on the floor.

  Uma glared at her and put her foot back on the ottoman. “Keep your leg up there and don’t make a promise if you can’t keep it.”

  As if on cue Vikram entered the room. “She’s right, you know.” He picked up the platter of vegetables and dip from the coffee table. Then he took in her expression and looked at her leg. “I meant she’s right about your knee. Keeping it raised will help it heal.”

  “See. Vic always was the smartest of you lot.” Uma stood briskly, pulling Vikram’s face down and kissing his head. She pointed to the plate in his hand. “Make sure Ria eats some before you take it away,” she said to him in Marathi before hurrying off.

  “Ho,” he answered in that accented Marathi Ria had always found so endearing. Usually, Nikhil and Vikram always answered in English when anyone spoke to them in Marathi. But there were a few Marathi words they let slip every now and again, and Ria had loved when they did that.

  “How’s it feeling?” Vikram threw a quick glance at her leg and held the platter in front of her, waiting stubbornly until she picked up a cucumber spear.

  “It’s fine. All healed.”

  He narrowed his eyes and ran a disbelieving glance down her leg. “I doubt that. Your bruises stay forev—” Color drained from his face. His gaze caught on her bent little toe with its zipper-shaped scar.