From Twinkle, With Love(57)
Sahil looked at me, startled. “I’m sure that’s not true. Your parents love you. And your dadi. I saw it when I came to visit you.”
I smiled a little as a tear dripped down my cheek. “One point for me.”
Sahil reached over and put a hand on mine, squeezing gently.
I laughed a weird, watery-sounding laugh. “My dadi does love me. And Papa … he loves me in his own way. But you shouldn’t believe everything you see.” I shook my head, not able to speak for a few seconds. My throat was painfully tight.
“Mummy used to be this talented artist. I still remember her painting banyan trees from her village and red double-decker buses with Indian people spilling out of them. I used to hang out with her behind her chair and just watch. Sometimes she’d dab my nose with her paint to make me laugh.”
Sahil smiled.
“Everything changed when my nani got sick,” I said, looking down at Sahil’s hand over mine. A tear splattered onto his skin, but he didn’t move. “My mom’s mom died alone back in India when I was nine. My parents didn’t have the money to visit for the funeral. And after that, Mummy just became completely withdrawn. It was like every time she looked at me, she remembered the reason my parents came here when my mom was pregnant with me was so I could have a good life. The reason she wasn’t able to go back to India is because my parents spend all their money—and they don’t have much of it—on me. And she’s never forgiven me for it. Sometimes I tell myself that I’ll earn enough to take her back one day soon. But who am I kidding? Most filmmakers don’t make any money at all, let alone someone just starting out. So I’m doomed. We basically don’t have any relationship at all.” I sniffed, and Sahil reached into his center console to hand me a tissue. “Thanks.” I dabbed at my nose. “Wow, sorry to unload on you like that.”
He rubbed my back and then put his hand back on the wheel. “I’m glad you did. And I’m … I’m so sorry, T. I had no idea.”
I shrugged. “That was one of the things I loved about Maddie. She doesn’t have a mom, so I used to pretend in my head that I didn’t either. It was just easier that way. She had her dad and I had Dadi and we had each other, so it seemed okay. But now Maddie’s gone and my mom’s still gone in almost every sense of the word and …” My voice wobbled. “It just feels sucky all around.”
Sahil looked pained, like he might cry too. “Hey, T. For what it’s worth, you’ll always have me. Okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
I smiled at him through my tears. And in that moment, I completely believed him. Sahil was someone I could count on. He’d never let me down.
Oh, we’re here. I better go.
Love,
Twinkle
Saturday, June 20, post-party
Sahil’s car again (he’s getting gas)
Dear Ava DuVernay,
In the history of horrible, obnoxious, hideous, loathsome nights, this one would get its own full-color page, complete with attention grabbing headlines smattered with !!!! and unflattering pictures of me stealing away into the darkness, my collar up and my head down.
It started out okay. Sahil and I got to the cabin (it was obvious which one was Victoria’s parents’ because of the thumping bass and ten shrieking teens trying to climb into the fountain in the front yard). It was one of those enormous mountain chalet getaway thingies, with huge windows and logs and stuff. As soon as we entered, Sahil left to talk to Victoria about setting up a quiet space for the behind-the-scenes interviews. I walked up to Hannah, who was surrounded by the usual gaggle of juniors and seniors, including Maddie. Apparently she’d decided her dad’s show was worth missing for this party. Slowly, the chatter died down as they registered the presence of an intruder in their midst.
“Can I help you?” Hannah asked. She looked gorgeous, with this ombré lip gloss and a deep burgundy strapless dress that set off her blond hair. Her friends all stared at me, and Maddie shifted from foot to foot, looking like she was in pain. Which might have been because she was wearing six-inch wedge sandals or because she was uncomfortable with the situation.
“I just wanted to say happy birthday,” I said, handing Hannah the small silver-wrapped box. Sahil and I had chipped in for a gift card to Nordstrom together.
She took it with a small smile/grimace on her face. “Thanks.”
“That’s cool of you,” Maddie said after a pause. “To bring a present, I mean.”
I stared at her in shock for a moment before recovering. Maddie was being nice to me in front of Hannah? Was it one of the signs of the apocalypse or something? “Um, yeah. No worries.”
A glance passed between Maddie and Hannah, and then, sighing, Hannah said to me, “Help yourself to drinks or whatever.”
“Thanks. I’m mostly here to do the behind-the-scenes interviews, but that’s nice of you.”
Apparently done with me, Hannah returned to her friends, and they closed ranks, their backs facing me like a wall. Maddie tossed me a small, apologetic shrug, but that was it. She didn’t say anything else. I felt my new friend, anger, begin to bubble inside me. Why was Hannah so intent on excluding me when I’d never done anything to her?
I didn’t break my stride as I tried to find Sahil, but the thought slammed into me, hard: That was the last chance. I’d been willing to just come here, do a few fun interviews, and leave, if Hannah could treat me nicely for once. But now? The gloves were off. Now I was in search of the truest stories, the ones that would best represent the silk feathered hats. And if Hannah and the rest of them weren’t happy with the end results, I wouldn’t feel guilty about it. I was here as a storyteller, a fly on the wall, not as a friend. Not anymore. And if they didn’t like that, maybe it’d force them to think about how they treated people.