There's Something About Sweetie(45)

Sweetie laughed. “It’s Suki and Izzy, Achcha.”

He waved a hand, like, I’m too old and too set in my ways to learn that.

“Yeah, they’re all fine. Everything’s fine. I promise.”

Amma glanced up from her magazine but didn’t say anything.

“Okay then,” Achchan said after a pause. “You got your cell phone? Call if you need anything.”

She put her arms around Achchan’s neck. “Thank you, Achcha. I will.” She clambered off the recliner before the lump in her throat became actual tears in her eyes. “I really should go, though.”

“Sari,” Amma said. “Just text me when you arrive there and before you leave.”

Usually Sweetie felt a little bite of annoyance at Amma’s stringent rules. How many times had she been over to Kayla’s? Was there really a need to text every single time? But this time she was too guilt drenched to feel annoyed. “Sari, Amma. Pinne kaanaam.”

“Bye.”

Sweetie took off in her car before she could change her mind. Come on. You said you wanted to be Sassy Sweetie. Don’t be Stupid Soggy Sweetie now. So she kept her foot on the gas pedal and kept going.

Ashish’s house was imposing, even though she’d been here before, just last weekend. Back then she’d been in sort of a fog, worried about what his parents would say, wondering what the whole thing was about. But now … She tipped her head back and took in the gigantic mansion, which looked like it belonged on some Scottish moor somewhere. (Wait. Did Scottish moors have castles? Whatever. It was humongous.)

She took a deep breath, adjusted her dupatta, and walked up to the heavy-looking, ornately carved front door. She raised her hand to ring the doorbell, but the door swung open before she could.

Ashish stood there, smiling at her. His hair was perfectly mussed, his kurta and pants neatly pressed and, by the looks of it, starched. His brilliant smile held just a hint of anxiety around the edges, and he tugged repeatedly at his embroidered sleeves. “Ugh, why am I wearing this again? Oh, right, because my parents basically held me hostage until I agreed to.” The idea of Ashish Patel not being totally comfortable either made Sweetie feel tons better. “Oh, wait. I meant, hey, nice to see you. Come on in.”

Sweetie laughed. “Thanks.” She walked in and looked around. The circular table in the center of the foyer held a huge vase full of fresh roses. The scent hung in the air, mouthwateringly sweet.

“So, fair warning,” Ashish said, his eyebrows high. “My parents—”

“Sweetie beta!” Sunita auntie came clip-clopping through the open archway, her face bright in a full-on thousand-watt smile.

Ashish’s face froze, his back to his mother. He mouthed, “Good luck,” and then they both faced the onslaught together.

Sunita auntie came fully equipped with her puja thali—a silver tray on which were balanced various powders and other accoutrements. Sweetie had seen Amma with the same kind of thali during various special occasions (such as before final exams), and she knew what was coming. Ashish stood silently with Sweetie as Sunita auntie asked Lord Hanuman to look after them on this auspicious outing. Kartik uncle stood off to the side, watching everything with a face that gave nothing away. He’d be a tough one to win over, Sweetie knew. If, you know, she were looking to win Ashish’s parents over, that is.

She felt a little bad for Sunita auntie, actually. She was obviously hoping for something miraculous and straight out of a romance novel, but she didn’t know of Sweetie’s and Ashish’s hidden agendas.

A maid came and took the thali away, and then Sunita auntie slipped an arm through Sweetie’s. “Come in, beta, come in. We didn’t get a chance to properly welcome you last weekend, and for that I am truly sorry.” The men trailed behind them as they walked in and took their seats in the mysterious second living room/den. Ashish sat beside her on the sofa, and his parents sat in armchairs across from them. “Your salwar is just so beautiful!” Sunita auntie continued. “Where did you buy it?”

“Oh, thank you! My mom got it for me on a trip to India last year. I couldn’t go because of track, though.”

“That’s such a pity! It is so important to visit our ancestral home often. It helps us stay connected to our roots. Don’t you agree?”

Sweetie glanced at Ashish, who was rolling his eyes so hard she was afraid they’d pop right out of his head. Turning back to Sunita auntie, she said, “I do, actually. And I do try to go every year. If I didn’t, I think my Amooma—my grandmother—would have withdrawal.”

Sunita auntie trilled a laugh. “Same with Ashish’s grandparents! Photos are just not the same, are they?”

“No, they aren’t.”

For a slightly awkward moment, everyone just looked at one another in silence. Then Kartik uncle grunted to Ashish: “Jeep has gas?”

And that’s how Sweetie knew—he wasn’t nearly as scary or intimidating as he seemed. Underneath he really loved his son. “Jeep has gas?” was just another way of saying I love you and I worry about you.

“It does, Pappa,” Ashish said.

“Okay then.” Kartik uncle reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed Ashish a bundle of cash—how much, Sweetie couldn’t say, but the top bill was a hundred. She tried not to stare. “Take this.”