There's Something About Sweetie(72)

Ma looked over at him and smiled. “What are you thinking of, beta?”

Ashish shook his head and sipped his ginger beer. “Nothing. You know, I haven’t said it yet, but, um … thank you. Thank you both.” At Pappa’s quizzical look (his face surrounded by a cloud of smoke), Ashish added, “I’m having fun with Sweetie. On the dates you picked.”

Ma beamed, and Pappa said, “I knew it! I told you, Ashish, my ideas are—”

Ma cut him off with a look that Ashish couldn’t see from his vantage. When she turned back around, she was beaming again. “Wonderful. I’m so happy to hear that.” She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. “So the mandir wasn’t too boring for you?”

Ashish took a breath. “No, weirdly enough. It was nice. Peaceful. And the Holi Festival was awesome.” He grinned at the memories. “Sweetie’s hair … I don’t know if she’ll want to go back to just plain black anymore.”

“So! One might even say that your parents picked the best girl!” Pappa said, brandishing his spatula like a sword. “Compare Sweetie to Celia and—”

“Kartik.” Ma shook her head and sighed. “Ashish, ignore your Pappa. I’m sure Celia was very nice.”

Ashish smiled, but it was a faded, left-out-in-the-sun-too-long version of his real smile. Celia. They’d finally talked after that night with Sweetie on the basketball court. Ashish’s heart legit cramped at the way he’d hidden this (temporarily) from Sweetie—the purest, most honest person he’d ever known in his life. He knew he had his reasons, but just thinking about it made him feel sick deep in the pit of his stomach, like he was coming down with the flu.

“What shall we bring?” Pappa asked, and Ashish realized they’d been talking to him while he was zoned out.

“Sorry?” he said.

“For Sweetie’s birthday party,” Pappa said, and clucked his tongue. “I think a nice DVD of that movie Sixteen Candles. All teenage girls love that movie!”

“Kartik, I already told you, that movie is well before Sweetie’s time,” Ma said, laughing. She turned to Ashish. “Do teenagers watch DVDs anymore?”

“Ashish, tell her Sixteen Candles is the diggity!” Pappa said, serving up the kebabs and burger-bricks onto plates.

“Pappa,” Ashish said, massaging his temples. “It’s ‘the bomb diggity.’ And no one says that anymore. And I don’t even know what Sixteen Candles is. I have to side with Ma here, sorry.”

Ma grinned triumphantly.

“Besides,” Ashish continued. “This is all a moot point. You guys can’t come.”

Ma’s grin fell off her face. “What?”

“Why not!” Pappa said, setting the plates down on the little table in the gazebo. “Sweetie will enjoy seeing us.”

“Doesn’t she like us, beta?” Ma said quietly, and Ashish wanted to smack himself for being so insensitive.

“No, of course she does,” Ashish said. After a pause he added, “Actually, I don’t think there’s anyone she actively dislikes. But, um, I think it’ll be better this way. I’ll get to meet her parents, charm them, get them on my side, you know? If you’re there, I’ll just be nervous.”

“Of course,” Ma said, patting his cheek. “You’ll win them over so quickly, they won’t even remember they had any objections in the first place! Isn’t that right, Kartik?”

They both turned to look at Pappa. He pulled a bell pepper (“capsicum,” as he called it) off the kebab stick, grunted, and said wryly, “Be sure to bring a very, very nice present.”

“I’m no Rishi,” Ashish said suddenly, and Ma looked at him in surprise. Pappa continued to chomp down on his veggies like a giant, oblivious rabbit. “I know that. I’m not going to charm her parents like …” He paused, wondering if he was really saying this. And then decided, Yep, what the hell? “Like Rishi charmed Dimple’s before he even met them,” he said in a rush, not meeting their eye. “But I have to try, you know? I really like Sweetie.”

“Beta, you are every bit as charming as Rishi,” Ma said, looking concerned. “You must never think otherwise.”

Ashish looked at Pappa, but he was still focused intently on his food and didn’t say anything. Because he didn’t hear or because he had nothing to say? “Right,” Ashish said, smiling at Ma for her benefit. “Sure.”

“So you have everything ready like I asked?” Ashish asked Gita Kaki on the phone, pacing his bedroom the next morning. “Every single thing?”

Gita Kaki’s voice squawked in his ear. “Yes, yes, beta. How many times I have to tell you?”

“Okay, thanks. Because we’ll be there in just over an hour.”

“Haan, haan, see you then. Oh, and Rishi, I have made aloo palak for you, your favorite!”

Ashish put a hand to his forehead. “No, Rishi is—I’m not—okay. I’ll see you soon!” He hung up and slipped the cell phone into his pocket. Well, this was going to be interesting, anyway. If the worst thing Gita Kaki did was call him Rishi and force-feed him aloo palak (Seriously, yuck. Who the heck liked potatoes and spinach together?) during the visit, he’d consider himself lucky.