There's Something About Sweetie(94)

Ashish sighed. “I’m not so wise,” he said. “But I am a person. So at least I have half of this in the bag?”

Ma and Pappa both chuckled. “Best of luck, beta,” Ma said, getting up. “You have our blessings.”

Even a year ago Ashish would’ve said a blessing was worth about as much as the air you used to say it. But now … now it felt different. They’d seen him at his lowest. They’d known what he needed even when he himself didn’t. Ashish was grateful for his parents’ wisdom. He hugged them and walked out, his heart pounding.

Sweetie had given him her address, but even without that, it wouldn’t have been hard to find her house. It was a pale-blue stucco, with a heavy wooden front door that stood wide open. Hordes of mostly Indian people were entering at a steady pace, and Ashish could see that the big living room inside was packed too. Children were shrieking and playing in the side yard and disappearing around back. A waiter in a tux was maneuvering around them with a tray of drinks. Lively Hindi party music played.

Ashish had to park down the street—there was no room nearby, even though he was right on time—and as he got out of the Jeep, his palms got just slightly damp. Wow. Nervous. He’d never been this nervous outside of a basketball game, and even then it had been a long time since that had happened. He swallowed, then picked up the box of toffees, the bouquet of Gloriosa lilies, and the gold-and-purple-wrapped box that contained Sweetie’s present. Well, part of it, anyway.

As he walked up to the house, he noticed that most of the people here were in suits and expensive-looking brocade kurtas. Even the teens and middle-school-aged boys were in ties. Dang it. Pappa always said to keep a tie in the dash, just in case. But of course Ashish never listened. He thought that sounded like the stuffiest idea in the world. Great job, Ash. Your stupid rebellion might just cost you the love of the most amazing girl in the world.

I’m here, he texted Sweetie as he walked up the driveway.

Then he took a deep breath and followed a family with four shrieking children inside.

Wow. This was … intense in a weird way. Ashish had been to a lot of parties with his parents, but this one was a blend of über-high-end, snooty waiters circling with drinks and hors d’oeuvres and extremely middle-class Indian families laughing and joking and letting the children climb all over the furniture and one another (Ashish knew about the latter kind from the rest of his family, who were scattered around the country and India). The waiters kept dodging the kids as they wove around their legs, and the party music kept thumping, making the entire scene look like something from the world’s most suburban circus.

A small hand on his arm had him spinning around, a smile on his face. But it wasn’t Sweetie. A tiny Indian woman, about Ma’s age, looked up at him from behind cat-eye glasses. She was dressed in a cream-colored sari with a golden border. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Vidya Nair, Sweetie’s mother.”

“Oh. Namaste, auntie,” Ashish said, immediately trying to fold his hands together. Except he was holding a giant pile of things and couldn’t quite manage. The bouquet of lilies almost slid out of his grasp and fell on the floor. Crap. Ma would kill him; she’d picked these out with the help of her friend who was an expert on all things botanical. They were apparently very rare and expensive. Doing a dance worthy of the suburban circus, Ashish managed to salvage the flowers and held them out to Sweetie’s mom. “These are for you. Special from my mother, Sunita Patel.” He smiled in his most charming, can-do way. “I’m Ashish Patel.”

Sweetie’s mom took the bouquet but didn’t look nearly as impressed or pleased as Ma had predicted. Dang. “Yes?” she asked.

It took Ashish a minute, but then he figured it out. She meant “Yes?” as in And what are you doing here, you chump? He swallowed. His armpits were starting to prickle with nervous sweat.

“Ashish, you came!”

Ashish turned just in time to see a familiar-looking black girl bound up to him and wrap her hands around his arm. She looked at Sweetie’s mom. “This is my good friend Ashish,” she explained, tugging his arm with exceptional force for someone her size. He tried not to wince. “So glad you made it,” she said to him, smiling savagely now.

That’s when it hit him. This was one of the Mafia gang girls from Thursday night. Well, that explained the arm ripping. “Oh, um, yes,” he hurried to say. “I, uh, um … traffic.”

The girl gave him a raised-eyebrow You’re an idiot look. Oh, well. He was used to that look from girls.

Vidya auntie’s face relaxed just a touch. “Kayla, will you please show your friend where to put the present? And have you seen Sweetie?” Her face moved back into frown territory, and Ashish felt bad for Sweetie, wherever she was.

“Not yet,” Kayla said. “But I can go up and see if she’s in her room?”

“No. I’ll do that.” And Vidya auntie turned with the determined air of someone who was about to call for a beheading.

Kayla let his arm go and turned to face him, her head cocked. “I’m not sure about you. I mean, I know Sweetie wants you here, but … I don’t know. I feel like you’re the kind of guy who ends every party with a lampshade on your head, hitting on some innocent girl from Minnesota.”

Ashish blinked. “Um … what?” Did that make sense anywhere except in Kayla’s head?