My So-Called Bollywood Life(35)

The work was grueling, and Winnie had no idea how her parents did everything so tirelessly. They were old, and they still had more energy than she did. Her excuses about having to do homework and college-application essays fell on deaf ears. She had to help. Her back ached as she finished setting the last of the statues on the coffee table at her father’s instruction.

    “We are done here,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He rested his hands on his hips and stretched to the side. “Now all we have to do is get dressed. People will be here soon. See if there is anything else to do before you get changed.”

Winnie stifled her groan. “Fine. I’ll check with Nani and Ma.” She followed the sound of arguing into the kitchen. Her mother and grandmother were standing at the stove, nudging each other over for more space. Her mother was rolling dough while her grandmother made comments about technique. Winnie would’ve helped if she didn’t have a history of setting things on fire. She was useless in the kitchen and her family knew it.

“The puris aren’t big enough.”

“Muma, they’re fine.”

“I’ve seen your fat friends. You need to make them bigger.”

“My friends are not all fat, and this is fine.”

Nani and Ma had been working for days making dry chole and puris. Huge silver pots sat on the stove with the small chickpeas cooking over a slow heat. The front burners each held a wok filled with oil, which sizzled every time a small, flat, circular piece of dough slid into the hot liquid. After the dough puffed into a bubble, Nani pinched the corner with tongs, flipped it over, then tossed it into the disposable serving tray on the counter next to her.

    “Are you guys almost done? I’m starving.”

“You cannot eat until after the pooja,” her mom said. “It’s only a few hours, Winnie. Drink some water.”

“We still have to heat the tari aloo and the halwa,” Nani said. Just the mention of the potato curry and the sweet dessert made Winnie’s mouth water.

“Oh God, Muma,” her mother said. “Move! I can do this faster by myself. People will be here soon.”

“No, you can’t, because the oil is too hot. You’ll burn yourself.”

“Muma, I’m almost fifty. I’ve been having my own pooja and making puris for more than twenty years. I can handle the hot oil!”

They continued to work in tandem even as they yelled at each other. Winnie took a bottle of water from the fridge and escaped to her room. She figured they would’ve said something if they’d needed her.

Winnie grabbed her phone off her bedside table and hopped onto her bed. She was about to check her messages when Raj’s face popped up on the screen. She debated letting it go to voice mail, but after four rings she caved.

“What?” she said.

“Still mad?”

    “Raj, my personal life is no longer your business.”

“I’m sorry. Really. I’m still getting used to us not being together, even if it’s only temporary.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, wait,” he said. “It’s about the film festival. I wanted to let you know that Gurinder approved the master-class idea. She loves it and is willing to work with whatever schedule we set. We just have to let her know in advance.”

She vaulted up in bed. “What? For real?”

“Yup. Now you have to convince the Princeton faculty to like it.”

“Holy baby—holy crap!” She squealed and bounced on her bed. “Raj! This is awesome. If Mr. Reece sees this as initiative, maybe he’ll let us both lead the festival again.” Her mind raced as she thought about all the possibilities for the master class and festival.

“Yeah, Reece knows this has been your thing from the get-go, so I think you have a good chance.”

“Really? I’m still annoyed about homecoming, but thank you for this. When I didn’t hear from you, I thought you were going to just take it over.”

“Come on, I’m not that big of a jerk,” he said. “I had to wait for the right time. Now you can take credit for all the work you’ve been putting in on the fund-raiser dance, too.”

The fund-raiser. That was another thing Winnie was trying to squeeze into her schedule. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

    “You could go out with me. You know. Like old times. Then I could really apologize.”

“Nope. Sorry. It’s not going to happen.”

“It was worth a shot,” he said. Voices echoed in the background, and Raj murmured something in response before saying, “I gotta go. I miss you. Let me know if you need any help with talking to the Princeton faculty, but I know you got this.”

“Definitely. Thanks again!”

“Bye,” he said, and hung up.

Winnie looked over at the bracelet sitting on top of her dresser. One thing was for sure: he was trying to make things work. That didn’t mean she had to give him a chance, though. Destiny or not.

She hoped.

Bridget pushed open her bedroom door and flung her arms wide. “Make me Indian beautiful,” she said.

“I can definitely do that,” Winnie said with a laugh. Thoughts of Raj took a backseat as Winnie grinned at her best friend.