There's Something About Sweetie(6)

Rishi always joked that Ashish’s and Samir’s egos couldn’t coexist even in the mansion they lived in, and maybe that was true. All Ashish knew was that Samir was not the person he’d want knowing his deepest, darkest secrets, and now he did anyway.

“Ashish!” Deepika auntie said, walking through the door. “Why aren’t you in school?”

Ashish opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Even his ability to think on his feet—previously one of his best qualities—was shaken. Damn.

“He had a fever at school, so I let him come home,” Ma said, winking at him when no one was looking. Ashish pretended not to see, just to salvage the tatters of his own ego. He didn’t need rescuing, and especially not from Ma.

“‘Fever.’ Riiiight. Tell me what really happened, man,” Samir said as Deepika auntie and Ma headed off to the kitchen, probably to get chai and snacks. “Last I heard, you couldn’t stop bragging about your college girl and how hot she was.”

Samir, of course, wasn’t allowed to date. Deepika auntie said girls couldn’t be trusted not to break her beautiful son’s fragile heart, so when he was old enough (say, around forty-five or so), she’d find him a suitable girl. Even Rishi and his perfect Stanford-attending girlfriend Dimple’s happy story wasn’t enough to change her mind.

“We’ve been broken up for three months. It’s, like, not big a deal at all,” Ashish said, picking up a decorative glass ball from the bowl on the table and tossing it from hand to hand. He was doing it to show Samir how little he cared about the breakup, but he also wished Ma would stay in the kitchen, because she might just kill him if she saw him. She was weirdly attached to her knickknacks.

Samir clucked his tongue. “It’s true what Mummy says, I guess. Girls can’t be trusted.”

“Whatever, man,” Ashish said, feeling the heft of the glass orb in his palm. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“So, I mean, what’s the big deal? Just find another girl.”

Ashish laughed. “Oh, yeah. Because it’s that easy. Dude, you’ve never even had a girlfriend, so, you know. Maybe STFU on this one.”

Samir’s cheeks flushed and he looked away. Ashish felt a little—a very little—bad for pouring salt in his wound. “So what?” Samir muttered. “I’ve seen you go through this a lot.”

“Fair enough,” Ashish said, because Samir really did have a point there. “I guess I don’t know. … Something’s off, man.” Then, making sure to put on an extra-nonchalant tone, he added, “I’ll figure it out, though. I always do.”

“Unless … maybe …” Samir glanced at him and then quickly away. “Nah.”

“Nah what? Unless what?” Ashish felt a prickle of curiosity. Samir never swallowed his opinions. It was one of the most annoying things about him.

“It’s just …” Samir shrugged one shoulder. “Your parents did a pretty good job with Rishi, right? Setting him up?”

Ashish raised an eyebrow. “Yeah …?”

“So, I mean, they could set you up too.”

Ashish stared at Samir for a full twenty seconds before he burst out laughing. “Dude, are you serious? My parents? They’d probably pick someone, like, totally …” Shuddering, he paused, trying to think of an appropriate comparison. “Okay. Imagine the most delicious BLT you’ve ever had.”

“Okay, easy. The one from that deli on Rivers.”

“Yeah, amazeballs, right? Now imagine if they took out the bacon, lettuce, and tomatoes. Oh, and that spicy sauce they put in there.”

Samir’s smiling face sagged. “So … just two slices of bread?”

“Exactly. That, but in girl form. No, thank you.”

Samir shook his head. “But that’s not what Dimple is. You said she’s, like, the perfect yin to Rishi’s yang.”

“Yeah, and it’d be totally different for me. My parents are constantly trying to rein me in. They’ll just get me the most boring girl in the world, hoping she can tame me or something.” He sighed and then, as he heard Ma and Deepika auntie walking toward the living room, added in a rush, “Oh, and don’t tell my mom about the BLT thing.” The whole Patel family was supposed to be vegetarian. Ha. As if Ashish would ever give up bacon. What would life even be without it?

“So, what are you two talking about?” Deepika auntie asked as Ma set a snack-and-chai-bedecked tray down on the coffee table.

“Gir—” Samir began before Ashish cut him off with: “School stuff.”

They exchanged a glance; Ashish tried to make his extra withering. Samir was the kind of boy who’d share any old thought with his mom if he wasn’t prepped in advance. The guy had no filter. Whereas Ashish, now, he was a connoisseur of secrets.

“Basketball kaisa chal rahaa hai, Ashish?” Deepika auntie asked, taking a sip of her tea. “I saw your photo in the paper.”

“The season’s going really well, auntie,” Ashish said. “We’re on track to go to state.”

“Very good,” she said, smiling at Ashish and his mom.

“I think I’d like to play basketball on a school team,” Samir said sort of wistfully.

“You play at the country club,” Deepika auntie said.