A Holly Jolly Diwali

by Sonya Lalli

Aasha Auntie was home, and Sam’s dad was sitting there, too.

  CHAPTER 27

  Niki. Sam.” Aasha Auntie sprouted up from the couch. “How was your outing? Did you have a nice time?”

  Sam’s dad stood up slowly, his body stiff as he inspected me. Instinctively, I ran a hand through my hair—praying to god Sam’s kiss hadn’t messed it up too much—and then brought my hands together in front of my chest.

  “Namaste, Uncle.” I took a deep breath, painting a smile on my face. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “Niki is Sam’s friend,” Aasha Auntie offered, her voice unusually high-pitched. “From America. She came for Diya’s wedding.”

  “Niki.” Uncle paused, his eyes flicking to Sam. “Welcome.”

  I swallowed hard, chancing a look at Sam myself. He was grinding his jaw, his eyes fixated on the ground in front of him. I’d walked into something. It was hanging in the air, so thick I could practically taste it, and I chewed my lip as I waited for somebody to speak. But after ten long, painful seconds, I realized that no one was planning on it.

  “You have such a beautiful home,” I volunteered, pointing indiscriminately at a turquoise vase on the windowsill. “It’s so lovely of you to let me stay.”

  Uncle rubbed his palms together. “Really, this is my wife’s home. I am not often invited.”

  “Do you really need an invitation to see us?” Aasha Auntie muttered.

  “Mom, you told him to come?”

  I looked from Sam to Aasha Auntie to Uncle. Pradeep Uncle, if I was remembering his name correctly. Oh great. I’d made it worse. He and Sam looked like they wanted to murder each other. The tension from when he first walked through the door had risen from a simmer to a raging boil.

  “I am shocked that he agreed,” Auntie answered flatly. “And that he gave us no warning. But yes. I thought he should come. I thought you should spend some time with him before you travel back to London.”

  “You thought wrong,” Sam said icily.

  I took a few steps backward as Aasha Auntie spoke to Sam in Bengali. Her tone was urgent, pleading, and Jasmine’s words rang overtop like church bells.

  It doesn’t sound like a fling. It sounds like a family holiday.

  Some family holiday. Apparently, Sam and his dad couldn’t even stand to be in the same room together.

  I was tempted to leave. It wasn’t my place to be here right now, and it would have been the right thing to do. I could have called a taxi and hightailed it back to Bardez, spent the night with Diya and Mihir in their hotel room. They wouldn’t have minded. Diya happily wedged in the middle, it wouldn’t have been the first time the three of us shared a bed.

  I opened my mouth, ready to interrupt them and excuse myself, but when I caught sight of Sam, I couldn’t leave him. And I didn’t think he wanted me to.

  When Pradeep Uncle joined in on the argument, I went into the galley kitchen and got started on a pot of cha. I could barely make out their voices over the sound of the water boiling. What were they saying to each other? I reminded myself it didn’t matter, and I shouldn’t get involved. After the tea, spices, and sugar had boiled for a few minutes, I added the milk using a tin mug to repeatedly scoop up the liquid and then dump it back out. Mom had taught me the technique when I was young; the milk thickened as it was exposed to the air.

  As I stretched the milk, I texted our selfies with SRK to my family. My parents replied almost immediately, using a few of the choice expressions Jasmine and I had taught them over the years.

  OMG you LUCKY girl!

  Amazeballs!! Ask him if he has nephew for you??? ;)

  Jasmine didn’t reply even though she loved Shah Rukh’s movies and she’d have woken up for work by now. I hated that we were fighting, but deep down, I knew it was temporary. Our fractured relationship was not nearly as wide as the rift that seemed to be between Sam and his father.

  By the time the tea was ready, the arguing had stopped, and so I poured out four cups and returned to the sitting room. Sam had left. Only Auntie and Uncle were still there.

  “Cha?” I asked brightly, setting down the tray on the coffee table.

  Uncle smiled at me for the first time as he accepted the tea, and I saw a flash of Sam. A flash I liked.

  “Ah. So tasty, beti,” Aasha Auntie said, taking a cup. “Niki is Punjabi also—”

  “A Punjabi girl, ah!” Uncle’s face lit up. “Where is your family from?”

  “All over,” I said. “But a lot of them have left our villages and moved to Amritsar.”

  “We went there—do you remember?” Uncle looked over at his wife. Whatever had transpired, he looked softer now, less frightening. “In ninety-nine—”

  “Ninety-eight.” Aasha Auntie smiled but then frowned immediately afterward, as if she’d done it by accident. “Sam was very small.”

  Uncle was talkative without Sam around, and conversation flowed easily as we drank our tea. He wasn’t as traditional or judgmental as he’d seemed when I first walked in. He showed interest in my life and was sympathetic about the layoff, ensuring me I’d find something better soon. I even found myself mentioning the job interviews I had lined up when I got back to Seattle. For some reason, I wanted to impress him.

  After tea, Aasha Auntie and Pradeep Uncle left for their dinner party, and I went upstairs to find Sam. I’d expected to find him hunched over his keyboard with his earphones on or fiddling away on one of his guitars. But when I peered into his room, I found him sitting on the edge of the bed, as if he was waiting for me.

  “You missed cha.”

  “Sorry.” He smiled limply. “I shouldn’t have left you down there. That wasn’t cool of me.”

  I sat down on the keyboard bench, pulling it close so we were facing each other. “I still think you’re pretty cool.”

  Sam sighed, his features softening. I couldn’t read him. Did he want me to come up here? Did he want me to ask him about his dad? If it were Diya or Jasmine or any of my other friends, I would be over there in a heartbeat. I’d be saying the right things and making lists with color-coded action points, googling the right advice to impart if I didn’t have it myself.

  But Sam wasn’t a friend. I didn’t know what he was or wanted from me, or where either of us would stand if we let the wall come down.

  “Are you OK?” I whispered.

  “Yes.”

  His eyes locked onto mine, and I laughed. He was lying.

  “Right.”

  “I am extremely OK.”

  “You’re not. But . . .”

  But, what? Should we both pretend that he was for the sake of a bit of fun?

  “You don’t have to talk about it—”

  “You’re leaving in two days, Niki. Fuck. I’ve ruined the whole night.”

  “It’s not ruined.” I poked him on the shin with my toe. “There’s still time to cheer you up.”

  He suppressed a grin. “And how are you going to do that?”

  I glanced down my body, suggestively tugging on my kimono until it fell down my shoulder. Sam laughed.

  “And if that doesn’t work . . .” I pointed to the keyboard behind me. “I’ll play you one of my dorky songs.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “I’d do anything for you.”

  The words had just sort of slipped out, and I rolled my eyes extra hard to try to convey that I’d been joking.

  “How much has Diya told you about my father?” Sam asked me suddenly.

  I pressed my lips together, searching Sam’s face. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t get involved, that I’d keep it light, and so I needed to say “nothing” and change the subject.

  “She told me you cut yourself off financially,” I said instead. “Sorry.”

  “It’s OK. Everyone knows. It’s not a secret.”

  “I’m so
sorry you don’t have his support. But you have to know—you are an incredible musician.”

  He scoffed.

  “Sam, seriously. I’ve heard you play. And I’ve looked up your band on YouTube more than I’d care to admit. You’re so talented—”

  “Niki.”

  I pulled the bench closer toward him, waving him off. “You are. It doesn’t matter what your dad says or doesn’t say, OK? You’re going to make it.”

  “No,” Sam said evenly. “I’m not—”

  “Yes—”

  “I’m a failure, Niki. OK? Just like he predicted.” Sam’s voice was loud, startling me. “My band left me. We’re over.”

  I shook my head, refusing to believe it. It couldn’t be over, could it? I searched his face, looking for clues, and then realized they’d been there all along. The way Sam never wanted to really talk about his band or about his life in London, even anecdotally. The fact that Perihelion’s website hadn’t been updated. That all the videos of them on YouTube were more than a year old.

  “A few moved home,” Sam said, not looking at me. “The rest got proper jobs. The label didn’t pick us up for another album, and everyone was happy to move on. Everyone except me.”

  Slowly, I stood up from the bench and took a seat next to him, offering him my hand. After a few seconds, he took it.

  “You’re not a failure.”

  “For the past six months, I’ve been working odd jobs as a sound technician for real musicians. I am a failure—”

  “You followed your dreams, which is a hard thing to do. If it was easy, everyone would do it.”

  Sam brushed his thumb against my palm, rubbing slowly, and when he didn’t protest, I continued.

  “You’ll find a new band. Or maybe your dream might have to change a bit.” I knocked my shoulder against his. “Maybe you’ll have to become a solo star.”

  “Right.”

  “You’re going to be such a heartthrob, Sam. Just you wait. People all over the world will have your poster above their bed, and I’ll be jealous as hell.”

  Finally, Sam cracked a smile, and I got goose bumps when he looked over at me. “You’re a sweetheart, Niki.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  I nodded, batting my eyelashes at him. “I know.”

  Sam turned to face me more, our knees still touching, our hands still intertwined.

  “What’s your dream?”

  “My dream?” I shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve really had one.”

  “No? You never wanted to be the next Mozart? Yanni?”

  “I wasn’t a prodigy like some people,” I said, elbowing him. “No. I guess I just wanted to be happy. Well, I wanted to make my parents happy. My sister was such a loose cannon . . .”

  This time when Sam asked me about Jasmine, I didn’t hold back. I told him what it was like to grow up avoiding her shadow, always trying to be everything that she wasn’t and focused on doing the right thing.

  “I love her so much.” I paused, thinking about how fiercely I missed her right now, how much I wished she’d forgive me. “But I resent her, too.”

  “For not believing in you?”

  I shook my head, my cheeks flushing. He’d misinterpreted me.

  Yes, I didn’t want to disappoint my parents, but had I also been afraid of going after what I truly wanted?

  “I wish I believed in myself the way Jasmine does. The way you do, Sam.”

  I wasn’t sure how long we sat there. An hour at least, maybe two. And for a while, I forgot that Sam was only ever meant to be a fling, forgot that I was leaving in two days, and forgot myself entirely as we shared pieces of ourselves that so few people were able to find. A puzzle that fitted together in no apparent order. Because even though I didn’t know Sam well, SRK was right; I already knew Sam. Inside and out.

  Later, when there were no words left to say, Sam pressed a gentle kiss against my temple. His lips lingered, his breath sending a shiver down my spine, and my whole body trembled as they drifted down toward my mouth.

  This kiss was different than the others. Softer yet more intense as he cradled my neck in his hands. I got lost in his touch, in the sweetness of his kiss, but all too soon, I wanted more. I wanted him.

  I leaned back on the bed, my arms around Sam’s back as I pulled him down with me. I craved his weight. His heat. I wrapped my legs around him, willing us closer as he kissed my neck, tugging my hair with his fist.

  A soft moan escaped my lips as my kimono fell open and his hands found my waist, my breasts. Still, it wasn’t enough. I reached up and pulled Sam’s T-shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor next to us.

  Sam smiled down at me, drinking me in.

  “Did I cheer you up?”

  I thought he’d fire something back, witty and stinging, but he just nodded. I pressed my hand against his cheek, grazing his stubble as he looked at me.

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked him.

  “I’m thinking about you, love.”

  “Good things?” I wiggled my eyebrows. “Or bad . . .”

  Sam cut me off with a laugh, kissing my open mouth as I tried to finish my joke. Giggling, I eventually stopped, drowning in the pleasure of his body pressed against mine.

  We dove farther, harder, and I felt myself opening up to him in a way I didn’t know my body was capable of. Finally, I couldn’t wait one more moment, and I sat up, panting. My hands trembled as I pulled down the kimono, but when I reached for the strap of my swimsuit, Sam caught my fingers with his palm.

  I looked up. He was shaking his head, and fear prickled over me at the thought that he didn’t want me the same way. But he did. I knew he did.

  “Not tonight,” he whispered. “We have time.”

  “We don’t,” I groaned in frustration. “Sam, this might be our only chance.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He closed his hand into a fist, trapping my fingers inside. My body trembled as he kissed my knuckles.

  “Sam,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “This isn’t a fling, is it?”

  “No.” He laughed, his eyes brightening. “Did you really think it was?”

  I’d wanted to. I’d convinced myself that I could keep my emotions at bay. But who was I kidding?

  Jasmine was right. I’d caught feelings. I’d caught them bad. And lying there with Sam as he looked so deeply into my eyes it hurt, I knew that he’d caught them, too.

  CHAPTER 28

  You’d think it would feel strange waking up alone in the guest bedroom the night after the new guy in your life essentially told you he wanted to be with you. That opening your eyes to an empty bed would water down the pure, utter ecstasy swishing around in your chest.

  But it didn’t. It felt absolutely right.

  Sam and I didn’t have sex in the end. And I didn’t stay over in his room. Not because we didn’t want to but because our relationship wasn’t just a vacation fling. And it never was. The way we felt about each other—it couldn’t be. Like Sam said. We had time.

  I sat up from the bed, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. It was another bright, sunny day, and the morning breeze from the window washed over my face like a cool cloth. Just outside the door, I could hear voices in the sitting room, and my balloon burst just a bit when I remembered Sam’s dad would be around. Aasha Auntie had sent Sam a warning text when they were on their way home from dinner the night before, so both of us had gone to “sleep” in our own rooms before they got back. (In reality, we stayed up another two hours texting each other.)

  I threw a sweatshirt on over my pajamas and slipped out of the room, ready to help diffuse the tension, but when I popped my head outside, it was only Sam and Aasha Auntie at the dining table. They were chopping fruit and buttering toast, happily chatting away about something or another in Ben
gali. Sam’s face changed when he saw me, his lips curling into an even wider smile as I threw him a wink.

  “Good morning, Niki.”

  Heat rushed through my body at the sound of him saying my name, and I remembered how close we’d come the night before.

  Jesus, Niki. Get it together. His mother is sitting right there!

  “Morning,” I said. “Aasha Auntie, good morning.”

  “Hello, beti,” she said, not turning around. Her eyes were fixated on the mango she was dicing. “Sleep well?”

  I took the seat beside her and opposite Sam, feeling for his foot beneath the table. “I did, thank you.”

  “Sam tells me you are leaving in two days only. This is a shame—we are having such fun with you around.”

  Sam caught my eye, but I couldn’t read the look on his face. After last night, was it still the plan for me to leave in two days when Diya and the others flew back to Mumbai? Well, it was only a day and a half away now. As much as I wanted to see my family in Punjab, my stomach curdled at the thought of leaving Sam so soon, of not making the most of the time we had together here in Goa.

  “And when are you leaving me, beta?” Auntie asked Sam before I could think of how to answer. She melodramatically wiped a tear from her left eye, shaking out her hand as if it were sopping wet with her sadness. “When must I go into mourning?”

  “What a drama queen.” Sam popped a piece of pineapple into his mouth. “I’ll leave a bit later, how about that? How would you like me for Christmas this year?”

  “Christmas?” Aasha Auntie froze. “You will stay with us another month? What about your band?”

  I bit my lip, watching Sam’s face grow dark. No one in India knew about Perihelion having broken up, not even his own mother.

  “I suppose we’ll have to take an extralong break this year.” He glanced my way, his features softening. “Because I might not go back to London straightaway . . .”

  Aasha Auntie’s face lit up as she, too, looked over at me, and my cheeks reddened under their gaze.

  “What do you say,” Sam said. “Should I come visit you in Seattle?”