My So-Called Bollywood Life(18)

She laughed. “Indian movie references are obviously not your thing, but there is something you should know about me if we’re going to talk more often than we have in the last three years.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“As much as I love Bollywood damsels in distress, I don’t need saving. I’m my own hero.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. It was a flirt move and such a cliché line, but he’d given her an opening, and any self-respecting film buff would’ve taken it. She felt him watching her the whole time she walked to her car.

Winnie reversed from the parking lot, glancing at the front of the school. When she spotted the empty stoop, she sighed. She didn’t expect him to watch her leave, so she really couldn’t be disappointed that he hadn’t hung around.

She turned onto one of the roads that led straight to her house before calling Bridget through her Bluetooth.

“Where did you go?” Bridget said when she answered.

    “We need to have a team huddle. I have a story to tell you. Oh! And a weird dream we really need to discuss.”

“A full-blown huddle or a mini one?”

“Full-blown.”

“Okay,” Bridget said. “I’ll bring the ice cream. Bollywood movie?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my life is getting a little too Indian dramatic, so let’s do one of your picks.”

“Say Anything?”

“The number of times I’ve watched that movie is insane, but yeah, that’s okay.”

“Awesome. I have a thing with my folks tonight, but let’s do Saturday.”

“You’re on. Later.”

Winnie disconnected and tried to stop replaying the last half hour in her head like a broken reel. Mr. Reece. Raj. Dev.

Indian heroines always screwed up when they tried to balance logic with emotion, so why was she trying to do the same thing?

Holy baby Shah Rukh Khan, her life was so majorly complicated.





6





NAMASTEY LONDON





Bollywood doesn’t do enough to show that women have jobs. I’d like to see one Katrina Kaif movie where not only is she employed in a corporate office, but she actually WORKS. Lunching doesn’t count.





When Winnie finally surfaced on Sunday after Bridget left, sleepy eyed, from their twelve-hour movie marathon, she found her father drinking chai at the kitchen counter and sitting in front of a laptop.

“Rough night?” he asked.

“We were brainstorming on how to combat Raj’s weirdness.” She gave him a hug. “You’re watching Namak Halaal?” she asked when she saw his screen. “Dad!”

“What?”

“Why are you watching without me? And why aren’t you watching on the TV?”

“Your mother won’t let me watch on the big screen, and you weren’t awake.”

    “Mom thinks you’ve seen it too many times.” Winnie took a sip from his cup and then pulled up a stool next to him.

“Get your own chai,” he grumbled. “Aren’t you going to go to the movie theater today?”

“Yeah. Do I need to dress up? Any time I go, no one is dressed up.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think so. People don’t wear suits and dresses to a movie theater.”

Winnie watched the movie with her dad for a few minutes. When a song-and-dance number started, she asked, “Do you regret it, Daddy? Not being in Bombay? Not working in movies like you wanted?”

“No. Never,” he said.

“Really?”

He nodded. “How can I ever regret something when the choices I’ve made have produced something so much greater than I could’ve accomplished on my own?” He pinched Winnie’s chin.

Winnie kissed his cheek. “I’m going to tell Mom you’ve been sneaking her ginger-root tea bags if you watch this without me again.”

“Hey!” he said, but she was already out the door.



* * *



—

Winnie considered her father’s answer all the way into downtown Princeton. Would she give up her love for Bollywood and a career in film studies because of something a priest said to her about a potential happily-ever-after? She didn’t think it was possible.

    Pondering her father’s love story naturally progressed to reflecting on Pandit Ohmi, and her strange Bollywood dreams. She couldn’t ignore their significance to her current situation. Maybe Shah Rukh Khan manifested because she hadn’t gotten a chance to give the bracelet back to Raj. Holding on to it could give him the impression that she still had hope. In all truthfulness, she believed her star chart could come true; that would take some time to get over. But she knew her relationship with Raj was done.

When she stopped in front of the Rose Theater, she noticed that the shutters were pulled over the ticket windows and a CLOSED sign hung over the entrance, but when she tested the door, it swung open. She looked around at the busy street before stepping inside.

“Hello?” Recessed lighting brightened the short glass cabinet along the left wall of the empty lobby. “Is anybody here?”

“Hi.”