by G. P. Ching
* * * * *
Four fifty-five Front Street was a beautiful, brick, two-story. The Gupta residence, like all homes in Paris, was enormous by Jacob’s standards. Even without leaves on the trees, the yard looked manicured and the house could have appeared on a postcard.
John yelled through the window to call when he wanted to be picked up and backed out of the driveway. Jacob approached the house, nervous about meeting Malini’s parents. A gust of wind blew the large American flag that flew from a brass pole near the front door and the striped material swallowed him up. After unwrapping himself, he rang the bell. Malini must have been waiting by the door because it opened almost immediately.
“Jacob, come in. It’s good to see you!”
Jacob stepped into the beige marble foyer, his footsteps echoing off the cathedral ceiling and around the crystal chandelier above his head. A man with stylish hair and a black turtleneck extended his hand.
“Jacob, this is my father, Jahar. He goes by Jim,” Malini said.
“Malini, why don’t you just introduce me as Jim?” he said, shooting Malini a hard glare. “Hello, Jacob. Welcome to our humble abode.”
Jacob returned the handshake, wondering if he should call him Jim or Mr. Gupta. He decided on Mr. Gupta. It seemed the most respectful.
“Malini told us about your accident. You must be more careful next time. That eye looks terrible.”
Jacob glanced at Malini and she lifted the corner of her mouth. Well, if her story was that he was in an accident, he wasn’t going to argue.
“And this is my mother, Sarah,” Malini said.
“Hello, Jacob.” Mrs. Gupta’s accent was more pronounced than her husband’s. She wore the traditional long braid and bindi he associated with Indian women. However, her manner of dress was as American and sophisticated as her husband’s: tan slacks and a red sweater set. “We are so happy you could join us tonight. Malini says you like Indian cuisine?”
“Yes!” Mr. Gupta chimed in, clapping his hands. “What is this? I thought young people enjoyed hamburgers and pizza, but Malini insisted on an Indian meal.”
“Yeah, I’ve been craving Indian food,” Jacob said. “I’m sure Malini has told you I grew up on Oahu. The food is different here. I really miss the variety my mom used to make.”
“Can I offer you something to drink?” Malini asked, after Mrs. Gupta elbowed her in the side.
“Yes, thank you. Water would be great.”
“While Sarah and Malini get the drinks, let me take you on the tour,” Mr. Gupta said.
The home was suspiciously vacant of anything Indian. In fact, it was the most American home Jacob had ever seen. Even the Laudners had vases made in China and rugs from Pakistan. The Gupta home was decorated entirely from items made in the Americas. This was not something Jacob would have normally noticed, but Mr. Gupta made a point of it as they walked from room to room. In the den, he showed off a small antique writing desk that was used by Abraham Lincoln.
“Can you believe it, Jacob? Abraham Lincoln! I couldn’t be happier to have this in my house.”
Malini, who had entered with the water, looked at Jacob and rolled her eyes.
After some light conversation, the family gathered around a long cherry table and Mrs. Gupta served the food. There was yellow curry with chicken, lamb vindaloo, pineapple chutney, and mounds of jasmine rice. He ate like he hadn’t seen food in a month.
When dinner was over, Jacob followed Malini through a glass-paneled door, down a flight of stairs, to a large game room. A polished pool table was at the center of the room. Behind it, he spotted a foosball table and ping-pong.
“Wow, your basement is awesome,” Jacob said.
But Malini turned to him at the base of the stairs, a panicky look on her face. “Now tell me what happened yesterday. What’s going on with you?”
“I told you, I don’t know. It was some freak … weather coincidence.”
Malini shook her head. “No. It wasn’t. You did it. You made it happen.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Then what happened, Jake? What explanation could there possibly be?”
“I can’t explain. Can we just forget about it? To be honest, it gives me the creeps.”
“No. We can’t. You … hosed Dane and Phillip to the wall. It was like you made the water move. Has anything like this ever happened to you before?”
“No.”
“Do you have a family history of controlling the elements? Levitation maybe?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Okay, maybe I went overboard with the levitation thing, but you can’t honestly believe it was nothing.”
Jacob turned from her and walked deeper into the room, resting his backside against the foosball table. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.
“Listen, I’ve been in this town for two years,” Malini said. “It’s like I told you: people who have been here all their lives … it’s like…”
“Like they have enough friends,” Jacob finished.
“Then you show up, out of nowhere, out of the clear blue sky. And, I like you, Jake. I really like you. I just can’t help but think that fate brought us together for a reason, you know?”
“I don’t really believe in fate, but I like you too. I’m glad we met.”
“This, this miracle…”
“Coincidence,” he interjected.
“Maybe I’m supposed to help you figure out what it is, what it means.”
“Maybe it was a fluke and doesn’t mean anything.”
“So, you’re sure, it never happened before or since?”
“I’m sure. No.”
“And, you haven’t noticed any other unusual abilities: superhuman speed, the ability to read minds…” She was smiling, but only half joking. Malini was so open and believing, her eyes wide with utter confidence that something supernatural had happened to them yesterday.
Jacob shook his head, a cynical grin on his lips.
“What about any odd dreams?” Malini asked.
His grin faded. He looked at the floor.
“That’s it, isn’t it? Dreams?” Malini shook his arm excitedly.
“Not exactly. Before I came here, before I met you, I was in a car accident. I’ve had some really vivid hallucinations but the doctors told me I might. I hit my head and they said I might see things or hear things. Some things that happen in them, they seem to happen for real. But I know it’s just my subconscious working things out. It’s just a coincidence that it happens the way I hallucinate it.”
“Or it could be a symptom. Maybe something bigger is happening to you?”
“If I agree, can we talk about something else?”
“For now.” Malini looked disappointed.
Jacob walked over to the air hockey table and switched it on. Malini fell in at the other side and served him the puck. It took all of fifteen seconds for her to sink her first goal.
“I guess you’ve probably noticed that my dad really loves America,” Malini said, serving the puck again.
“Yes, I’ve noticed.” He grinned. “But there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“No, I guess not. It’s just I wish we could remember where we came from now and then. Do you know this was the first Indian meal we’ve had in six months?”
“You’re kidding. Why? The food was spectacular.”
“I know, right? It started with simple excitement that we’d become U.S. citizens. It’s a real difficult process and we were all ecstatic when it was official. “
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks, but then Dad insisted that we act like real Americans. I think part of it was this town. He needed to be accepted here, for his business. He has, you know. He’s very successful. But the thing is, Jacob, we still have family in India. I mean, I haven’t lived there since I was six, so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, but … I mean, the food here, the clothes, everything is different and not necessarily be
tter.”
Understanding swept through Jacob and would change the way he saw Malini’s family forever. He knew too well what she meant. The irony was that both of them had been robbed of their culture: he by the absence of his parents and her by their presence. It wasn’t that where they were was so bad; it was that where they came from was important even when everyone else said it wasn’t.
“I’m sorry, Malini, I bet India is beautiful.”
“It’s not just India.” She sighed. “It’s everywhere—everywhere I’ve been. It’s part of who I am and I don’t want to forget it. I don’t want to lose it, you know?”
“Yeah, I think I understand,” he said.
Malini sunk another goal.
“So much for the possibility of superhuman speed,” he said.
Malini giggled.
“Would you like to see a dance I learned in India? It’s been a few years, well, almost a decade I guess, but I think I remember.”
“Sure.”
Jacob sat back against the wall and Malini pulled a couple of chairs to the side to clear a makeshift stage. She placed a CD in a small player in the corner of the room and took her position in the center of the cleared patch of rug, her fingers delicately positioned near her shoulders.
As he heard the first sounds of a stringed instrument, Malini’s wrists began to roll. Her arms became snakes, coiling around her sides. As the drumbeats joined the melody, her feet rose and stomped in a dance as beautiful and threatening as a looming thunderstorm. Her hands twisted intricate circles around her body, her back bending with the music, her hair sweeping against her shoulders.
She was exotic—brown and lean. Most importantly, she was open, as different and lost here as he was, and for the first time since coming to Paris, he felt connected.
Jacob stood. She was spinning but stopped when she noticed him rise. The thick black layers of her hair whipped against her neck and fell to her right shoulder. Her breath came in huffs as she looked at him. There was a question in her eyes that he couldn’t read, but he desperately wanted to be the answer. He wanted to be the thing that made this world better for her.
Without thinking, he reached for her hand. Stopped. Reached again. He linked his finger into hers at an awkward angle, fearful his sweaty palms would gross her out if he held her hand properly. His heart thumped in his ears and his mouth went dry. She walked toward his chest and on instinct Jacob moved his other hand to the small of her back. Bending his neck in a series of light but erratic movements, his lips came within a fraction of an inch of hers. He waited. He wouldn’t make the decision. He wouldn’t cross the line without her.
He didn’t have to wait long. Malini rose up on her tiptoes, grabbed the back of his head, and kissed him. Jacob was more than happy to return the favor. Everything seemed to melt away, the feel of her lips against his drowning out the world. He wanted to remember every moment, every feeling. It was his first kiss, but as she moved in closer and pressed her body into his, Jacob hoped it wouldn’t be their last.