You're Invited(16)

“I kno—” I started, but he cut me off again.

“And your friend Kaavi. I can’t believe she’s getting married.” He turned around again and gave me a smile, though his raised eyebrows implied he wasn’t quite pleased about the upcoming nuptials.

“Ye—”

“You know, I used to have a bit of a thing for her, back in the day. Can you even imagine?” He gave a loud guffaw. A few beads of sweat had formed around the loose flesh on his neck despite the frosty air-conditioning.

“She’s a real piece of work, ah. Of course she’ll go and get herself hitched to a suddha.” A white man. The generic term for any foreigner. It wasn’t used as an insult, but it sure sounded like one coming from him. “Actually, I don’t even know why I’m so surprised. Those Fonsekas are so full of shit.” Definitely an insult, then.

I kept silent, not that Mahesh noticed.

“Sorry, ah. I know they are your friends. I just think they are hypocrites, men, that’s all. Actually, maybe that’s unfair. They are not all terrible. That second sister, Tehani, no? She’s quite sweet, ah. At least she doesn’t have a big head like Kaavi does. She can cut loose and have some fun every once in a while.”

I’ve known Tehani for the larger part of my life. I would have never thought to describe her as sweet. The cutting-loose part was a little more on-brand for her. But then, maybe she’s different now. A lot could change in five years.

“I met her recently. Kaavi, I mean. At Jona’s wedding. I don’t know if you know him? His father’s a rice importer, so you know, no?” I didn’t, but I nodded anyway, keen to hear about Kaavi.

“She gave me some super attitude, men. Even I was shocked. And for what, I don’t know. She’s put on a bit also, you know. Not slim like she used to be. Really losing her looks, but still so stuck-up.”

I watched the way his chin quivered as he spoke, and the way the flesh on his arms jiggled as we hit even the slightest bump on the road. Okay, Mahesh, she’s the one who’s “put on a bit.”

“And you know the worst? Her bloody fake accent, men. It’s so put-on. Who does she think she is, anyway?”

Colombo has always been divided into two camps about accents. The first lot hates anyone who speaks with an accent (and refuse to think that the Sri Lankan accent is an accent at all). They see it as an affront to national pride—a placeholder left behind from our “stick it to the colonizer” days. The second group, well, they saw accents as a type of social currency, and they weren’t exactly wrong. Speak with a Western accent, real or put-on, and you were bound to get better treatment from a society that, you guessed it, was still entrenched in postcolonial trauma. It has been, and probably will always be, a lose-lose situation.

But then, it isn’t the worst thing that Mahesh held a grudge against Kaavi. I was here to wreck her wedding, after all. And I needed all the help I could get.

I took a deep breath and checked the time. 5:05 p.m., thank goodness. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

I got my chance when the driver pulled into the parking lot of a building and Mahesh handed him some documents. They conferred in Sinhala, and Mahesh sighed and pulled out two five-thousand-rupee notes from his wallet.

“Thiyaganin ithin. Ahuwoth vitharak, therunada?” Keep this. Only if he asks, you understand?

“Sorry, Akki. This will just take a minute, ah,” Mahesh explained as the driver went inside the building.

“This is the third time I’m sending these forms to these fellows. Bloody useless buggers. They keep telling me that they’ve lost them, but I’m no idiot. Not to worry though. Piyadasa knows how to handle them.”

I watched Piyadasa, in his short-sleeved, untucked white shirt and black trousers. The standard uniform for bodyguards in Sri Lanka. He was definitely more than Mahesh’s driver, but I suppose someone like Mahesh needed more than a driver. It made me feel slightly better about what I had to ask him.

“Malli, thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me. But I need to ask you for something else.” My heart was hammering against my chest. I had rehearsed this in my head many, many times, but my voice still came out squeaky and weak.

“What is it, Akki? Tell me. Anything that’s mine is yours.”

I swallowed. I just had to spit it out.

And so I asked him.

He didn’t react immediately.

Then he turned around in his seat and slid his sunglasses up onto his forehead so I could see his eyes. He didn’t look angry or upset, thank goodness. But he did look amused.

“Is this because of what happened the last time you were here?”

Oh my goodness—did Mahesh know? If he knew, then everyone in Colombo knows for sure. Oh gosh.

I took a deep breath.

“The last time I was here?”

“There was a breakin or something, no? At least, that’s what my mother said. About why you went and stayed at the Fonsekas instead of at your place.”

“Oh, um, yeah. Something like that.”

“You’re of course mad, aney. You should have at least called me, no? I didn’t even know you were here at the time.”

“I know.” I knew about those rumors, of course. I even knew who started them.

I had prepped for this.

“I know there’s been a bit of talk about the last time I was here in Colombo. But there’s a reason I haven’t come back all this time.”