The children of Madurai’s war of Diwali. That’s at least what she’d call it in her head.
“So you’re up?” Rishi stood at the door, a cup of coffee in hand. He’d slept in his parents’ room on the floor.
“How could I not be? So many firecrackers. What is it, five a.m.?”
“Oh, it’s practically six.” He sat down on the bed next to her. “When I was a kid, we used to have contests in this neighborhood to see who could get up earliest to light the first cracker. One year I was convinced that I needed to be it, so I woke up at three, snuck out the door, and lit like ten strands of them.”
“What?”
“Needless to say, my parents were not pleased. I got no less than ten lectures on blasting my fingers off and how they needed to help me with the crackers.”
“Wait, how old were you?”
“Eight maybe?”
Emma shook her head. “You were clearly crazy then, and you’re crazy now.” When they were at his parents’ house, with all of them stuffed into just a few rooms, she missed this shared intimacy and these quiet moments. There was no privacy, no alone time, except before everyone woke up, or after they went to bed. Otherwise they had to take a walk or go to the store to catch some alone time.
Not that Emma minded the hustle and bustle of a family house. She’d grown up in a small house, then a trailer with her grandmother. There wasn’t much room of your own, and somehow that forced intimacy created more intimacy. You had to know about each other’s business. In fact, Rishi’s mom had forced some kind of medicine down her throat that tasted like chalk and cumin so that she wouldn’t get sick from eating all the food on Diwali; she’d literally made Emma open her mouth and had thrown it down her throat.
But she couldn’t deny that somehow, it had made her happy. If Rishi’s mom would stuff preventative medicine down Emma’s throat, that must mean she liked her, right?
“What time are Sudhar and Sona coming over?” They had stayed the night in a hotel down the road. While there was no room for them in the house, Emma also wondered if they wanted to ease themselves back into the family. It had only been a few months since Rishi had gotten them all back together.
“Well, probably in a few hours. Do you want coffee? We can sit on the porch and watch the sun come up.”
“Do I want coffee? Yes, what kind of question is that?”
He went into the kitchen and brought her one of the steel cups with a matching saucer. She always looked at it a little sadly. She might have grown used to everything else here, for the most part, but she still missed her twelve ounces of caffeinated bliss in the morning. This was like three or four at the most. At least she’d been indoctrinated into the steel-cup gang. No more of that chipped beige ceramic for her.
“I’m going to introduce your family to the American Big Gulp. I feel like if they saw that, then they wouldn’t judge me for wanting a proper-size coffee to wake up.”
“Well, if you hurry, you can have two before my mom wakes up and catches you breaking her coffee protocol.”
“I have a feeling I’ll need a few to get through today.”
When Sona came over, she and Emma were relegated to vegetable chopping on the dining table while they were fed an endless supply of sweets and snacks. Dharini helped her mom cook, and in the small kitchen it was a tight fit with the both of them anyway. Neighbors kept bringing over small boxes of sweets and bags of savory snacks, and now Emma understood why her stomach had needed to be prepped for today. It was all about food. Cardamom-laced laddoos, big and orange and round. Squishy yellow and white sweets sitting in rose-scented syrup. Fried snacks that smelled like cumin and chili, coiled round like a snake. More snacks with peanuts and fried lentils that were a little too easy to stuff in her mouth.
“These would be so good with coffee!” Emma exclaimed to his mom as she sat in the kitchen cutting green beans into the tiniest pieces possible.
“Emma, you always want coffee.” His mom shook her head and smiled.
“She’s totally onto you.” Dharini laughed.
Sona leaned over to her and whispered, “If you want my advice, compliment her. That’s the best way to get more of what you want.”
Emma smiled conspiratorially at her new friend. “Auntie, it’s only because you make the best coffee. It’s so delicious I can’t stop myself.”
Rishi’s mom giggled like a schoolgirl. “Okay, okay.”
Emma held up her hand to Sona in a high five. “It’s true, anyway. She does make damn good coffee.”
Sona shook her head and laughed. Emma was just glad they could all find this amusement in one another.
After their feasting and naps, everyone put on the new clothes they’d bought for Diwali. Rishi had told Emma to get a sari, and they’d gone shopping the week before in Bangalore. He’d said the sari was a gift from his parents. They’d asked him to get her something since she was coming home. With Dharini’s help, she had it pinned and tucked into place. It was turquoise with purple edging. A chiffon silk with embroidered peacocks on the pallu that hung down the back.
“There!” Dharini stepped back and admired her work. “You look very nice.” But the way she had her hands clasped together, she looked like a proud mother on her daughter’s wedding day. Speaking of which . . .
“Dharini, how’s it going with you and the guy you’ve been talking to? The one the code pulled up? Um, Rohin, I think?”
Dharini’s eyes turned a little fluttery. She had on a new silk salwar kameez that was purple and yellow and made her eyes sparkle and her skin glow. “Oh, Rohin? He is nice. I think I’m going to ask Amma and Appa to talk to his parents. I’m not in a rush, but I like this guy.”
“Good. Rishi said he seemed like a nice guy too.” He’d interviewed him for the role of husband to his sister, like it was a job. Although it was a job. A very important job. Dharini was a sweetheart.
“Yes, and he has the cutest dog.” She held out her phone and showed Emma a picture of a golden retriever and a young man.
“Is that him?”
“Yes, but don’t tell my parents.”
Emma smiled. She had to wonder in this family if having a photo of a potential husband and his dog on your phone was that illicit. “My lips are sealed. But that is a very cute dog. I’m sure you’d make a great dog mother.” That made Dharini laugh.
Emma made her way to the mirror that was propped behind the door and studied herself. She almost took her own breath away—was that even possible? While the sari had been a pain to get on, and she still didn’t understand how six yards of fabric was the magic number for this garment, she felt more like a princess than she ever had. There was something magical about the sparkling sequins and the sheer extravagance of covering yourself in so much silk. She turned to check out the fanning peacocks on the back.
“Thank you, Dharini, for helping me. Really for everything.” Because she had to wonder, if it hadn’t been for her willingness to postpone her search for a husband, would she even be here today?
“Wait! One more thing.” Dharini rushed over to the chest of drawers and pulled out a small box. She grabbed one of the small jewel bindis inside and stuck it on Emma’s forehead. “Okay, now you’re ready.” She opened the door and Emma exited, nervousness pooling in her stomach. Would Rishi think she was trying too hard? Would his parents approve of the sari she’d picked out?
But as she walked through the kitchen, his mother stopped what she was doing and stared at her. “Hmm. Very nice.” She nodded.
“Thank you. You look very nice as well.” His mother wore a burnt-orange silk sari with maroon accents. Gold thread all over the place.
“Sudhar bought it for me.”
This made Emma smile. But not as much as when Rishi came around the corner, wearing the dark-blue silk kurta she’d made him get and a pair of tan salwar pants. He never wore traditional clothes, and she’d begged him to get the shirt because his eyes practically glowed when he’d stood in front of it. She
had to swallow. Was that drool? Was she drooling in front of his mom? So inappropriate! “You look nice.” Although the word nice didn’t cut it.
“So do you,” he said. But his eyes looked thirsty. Like he was drinking all of her in. Apparently nice was the theme of the day. “Let’s go outside.”
Dusk had just settled, and fireworks lit up the neighborhood with bursts of sparkling light. More firecrackers popped in the distance, along with the occasional giant rocket that shot into the sky and exploded in crackling light-up glitter.
“Emma, you look just . . . damn. I don’t even know what to say.”
“I could say the same thing about you. Just damn.” She laughed.
He circled around her slowly. “I want to just take the edge of your sari and spin you like a top until you unravel. It looks good on, but it’s making me realize it’s been four days since I’ve seen what’s under it.”
“Rishi, don’t you think your parents would think stripping me naked in the middle of your street might be a tad inappropriate? I’ve been on my best behavior.” They couldn’t even touch one another for fear his parents would see, or the neighbors would see, and start some kind of crazy rumor.
The way he sighed and clenched his fists made Emma laugh. “I’ll wait. But you’re putting that back on when we get to Bangalore, and then I’m taking it right off.”
“I’ll have to take Dharini with me to put it back on me.”
“Shhh.” He closed his eyes. “Don’t mention my little sister while I’m still living out the fantasy in my mind.”
Sparks shot up into the sky. “These are so cool. When are we going to let off the ones we got?”
“Soon. I just wanted to do something first. With you. Alone.”
Her attention came back to him. “Oh?”
He sighed, took her hands in his, and got down on one knee. “Emma, here, in my home, where you’ve been so patient and understanding about everything in my crazy family, I just wanted to thank you and say that the only thing that’s missing from this crazy family is you. I love you. I think I always loved you but was so pissed off at you that I couldn’t see it. But I’ve learned and I’ve grown with you, and I want to keep learning and growing with you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?”
Emma was speechless. The air sucked out of her lungs, seemed to shoot off into the sky. Tears came immediately to her eyes, and she started sobbing. All she could do was grip his hands tighter.
Rishi gently extracted his left hand and fumbled in his pocket. “Oh, shit. I forgot the part with the ring.”
Emma laughed and wiped at her nose, and she was shaking so hard she almost fell forward, but he caught her. How could she be so happy that she couldn’t even talk? Tears and laughter and an absolute unbelief that this was happening under this sparkling sky.
“Here it is,” he said, holding it in front of his face. It was a simple ring, a cluster of diamonds set in bright twenty-two-karat gold. “It was my grandmother’s nose ring. I had it set in a ring. For you.”
Emma laughed. “It’s perfect.” He took her hand and slid the ring on. “I’m proud to wear something from your family on my hand. I know they’ve come a long way. Are they okay with this?” She didn’t want to ask the question but had to.
“No. Actually, I drugged my mom, raided her jewelry box, and stole it so we could run away together.” His squinted eyes told her exactly what he thought about her asking that question after all they’d been through. “What do you think?”
“I think that I can’t believe this is happening.” Her laughter caught in her throat. She was still shaking a little with joy. Could you shake with joy?
He stole a quick kiss in the street. “Now, who cares what the neighbors say? You’re going to be my wife.”
The word settled on her. Rishi’s wife. Part of his family. She hugged him, dizzy with disbelief that this day had actually come. “Now we have a whole new reason to set off fireworks.”
He took her hand. “Come on, let’s go tell the family the news.”
The family. Sister, parents, brother, sister-in-law—all of it hers now. They’d given her a chance. They’d accepted her. They’d trusted her love for Rishi.
And now they were her family too.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Having the book in your heart published is a literal dream come true, and like many others have said, it takes a village. I feel blessed that my village is populated by the most amazing people I could imagine and want to thank them all—for supporting, inspiring, and guiding me along the way.
First, I need to thank my husband. You have been so patient when every weekend, I hide myself in my office and write, write, and write some more. Not to mention the encouragement you’ve shown me over the years as I tried to piece the right story together. At least next time we tell the story of how we met—the boy who grew up in the steel-factory town and the girl who grew up next to the oil refinery somehow meeting by luck in Bangalore—we’ll have a new way to end the story!
I don’t know if this book would have seen the light of day if it weren’t for my awesome agent, Kimberly Brower. Thank you for taking a chance on me and The Marriage Code and believing in both of us! And thank you to the amazing team at Montlake, which has been phenomenal to work with. Lauren Plude, I’m so happy this story resonated with you and you decided to bring it to life! Selina McLemore, thank you for having a sixth sense for story and being a great editing partner. And to the copyediting team—Lauren Grange, Bill Siever, and Riam Griswold—thanks for having such a great eye for detail. And Micaela Alcaino and Kris Beecroft, I’m so happy you captured Emma and Rishi’s story in such a beautiful cover!
To help this story get to where it is today, I have a lot of my fellow writers-in-arms to thank. Melissa Marino, a million thanks to you, my mommy dearest, for plucking me out of the Pitch Wars pile and helping me get this book on its way! Julia Lee, #BestCritiquePartnerEver, thank you for reading this like a million times and giving me feedback when I most needed it. Sarah Schoenfelder Harrison, Carla Taylor, Gina Panza Woodruff, Kate Ramirez, Sofie Darling, and the Austin RWA critique group and crew—thank you for your input in the early stages of this; I cherish the writing community we have in Austin! And to my dear friends who love to read and adore India, thank you for sharing your perspectives on this story, especially Shandra Koehler and Leslie Ennis, who helped me see the direction this story should take from the beginning. And Frankie Ashok, I owe you margaritas for the rest of time for reading my manuscript and sharing your thoughts. But don’t worry, we’ll drink them together! Sudharsanan Sridharan and Dhivya VK, thank you for always responding to my random requests for programming clarity and last-minute emails about culture! Katie Webb Kneisley, you are always my model for any best friend character because you are just the best!
Thank you to my parents and family, who always encouraged me to write, even from a very young age—you always believed in me and fostered my creativity through every outlet you could think of! I still think of that “Being a Floor” poem you framed and hung in my room and my Snoopy journal I had as a little kid. If those didn’t pave the way, I don’t know what did!
And finally, this book would have never been possible if it weren’t for my husband’s amazing family, who opened up their arms to me and welcomed me into their world. I know it wasn’t easy for them, but I have never stopped appreciating the warmth they’ve shown me, even when we’re half a world away, whether they were being patient as I stumbled through understanding their customs or trying to wrap their heads around the concept of a girl from a small Kentucky town entering their lives. I’ll never forget when we met on that first Tamil New Year and their son oh so cleverly left us alone for hours to force us to talk. Well, it worked. And is still working thirteen years later. Cheers!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brooke Burroughs has worked in the IT industry for over ten years and lived in India—where she met her husband—for three. Burroughs has experience navigating t
he feeling of being an outsider in a traditional, orthodox family. Luckily, she and her in-laws get along well now, but maybe it’s because she agreed to a small South Indian wedding (with almost a thousand people in attendance) and already happened to be a vegetarian with an Indian food–takeout obsession.
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