tiny black leather purse. The music stopped.
“Whoever it is will call back.” Abhay leaned against the dresser. He wanted a dessert. Something creamy, like the key lime pie he’d seen on the menu, or maybe some cheesecake. Or even some ice cream. He wondered if he could order it up and pay for it himself, or if it would all go on the room bill. He wondered if Rasika wanted anything.
“It’s probably my mother.” Rasika opened the purse, took out the phone, and peered at it. “Yes, it was my mom. She’ll definitely call back. She’s probably already tried me at home. If I don’t answer my cell phone the second time she calls, she’ll start to panic.”
The phone burst into life again. “Hello?” Rasika sat down on the edge of a chair.
Abhay threw himself back on the bed and examined the room-service dessert menu.
Rasika was saying something in Tamil. He had forgotten she was fluent in Tamil, which he didn’t understand. He remembered that she had grown up in India until she was seven or eight. As she spoke with her mother, Rasika’s voice became high and childlike, a pitch Abhay hadn’t heard before. She sat with her legs together, her feet flat on the floor, as though to prove to her mother, by her unseen body language, that she hadn’t been doing anything wrong.
He thought about going out into the hallway to find a vending machine. Or maybe there was a convenience store in the lobby where he could get something sweet. Besides, he didn’t like hearing Rasika lie, even if it was in a language he didn’t understand. He dressed quietly and left the room in his socks.
When he returned with two gourmet ice cream bars, Rasika was completely dressed in jeans and a blouse. “We gotta leave,” she said. Her hair, still wet, was mussed. She was trying to lift the handle of her suitcase, but the suitcase kept rolling out from under her hand.
“What happened?”
“My parents are bringing another eligible bachelor home. Tomorrow.” She yanked the handle up.
“So we can stay the night, can’t we?”
“I can’t. I have to get some distance from this.”
“Rasika, sit down. You don’t have to just follow your parents’ lead.” He tried to hand her an ice cream bar.
She strode over to the window and tugged the curtains open.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“I told you.” She flung back the covers of the bed. “I guess the people my parents are staying with have a relative who would be right for me. He’s visiting them now, from Nebraska, and he’s a doctor. So they’re bringing him over.” She kneeled on the floor and looked under the bed. Satisfied that nothing had been left, she pulled up the covers of the bed and smoothed them.
“What’s the hurry?”
“The astrologer said I need to be married before twenty-six. Remember?” She went into the bathroom and opened the shower curtain.
“How do you feel about what we just did?”
“I’d like to give all this up. I’m not proud of myself for doing things like this.”
“If you want to get married, fine. But that doesn’t mean you have to let your parents push you around.”
“I’m not. I really want to marry with their blessing.” She looked under the sink.
“You’re afraid to let your parents know who you really are.”
“My dad would die if he knew about . . .”
“You just think he’d die. The more you let Indian parents boss you around, the more they try to control you. You might as well start gradually getting them used to the idea that you aren’t the person they think you are. And you know what? They’ll get used to it.”
“You don’t know my dad. He gets so upset over the littlest thing. I can’t.” She opened and shut each drawer of the dresser, even though they hadn’t been in the room long enough for her to put anything into the drawers. She grabbed her suitcase handle. “If you want a ride home, you’d better come with me now.” She pulled the suitcase toward the door. “I just wish it
“Whoever it is will call back.” Abhay leaned against the dresser. He wanted a dessert. Something creamy, like the key lime pie he’d seen on the menu, or maybe some cheesecake. Or even some ice cream. He wondered if he could order it up and pay for it himself, or if it would all go on the room bill. He wondered if Rasika wanted anything.
“It’s probably my mother.” Rasika opened the purse, took out the phone, and peered at it. “Yes, it was my mom. She’ll definitely call back. She’s probably already tried me at home. If I don’t answer my cell phone the second time she calls, she’ll start to panic.”
The phone burst into life again. “Hello?” Rasika sat down on the edge of a chair.
Abhay threw himself back on the bed and examined the room-service dessert menu.
Rasika was saying something in Tamil. He had forgotten she was fluent in Tamil, which he didn’t understand. He remembered that she had grown up in India until she was seven or eight. As she spoke with her mother, Rasika’s voice became high and childlike, a pitch Abhay hadn’t heard before. She sat with her legs together, her feet flat on the floor, as though to prove to her mother, by her unseen body language, that she hadn’t been doing anything wrong.
He thought about going out into the hallway to find a vending machine. Or maybe there was a convenience store in the lobby where he could get something sweet. Besides, he didn’t like hearing Rasika lie, even if it was in a language he didn’t understand. He dressed quietly and left the room in his socks.
When he returned with two gourmet ice cream bars, Rasika was completely dressed in jeans and a blouse. “We gotta leave,” she said. Her hair, still wet, was mussed. She was trying to lift the handle of her suitcase, but the suitcase kept rolling out from under her hand.
“What happened?”
“My parents are bringing another eligible bachelor home. Tomorrow.” She yanked the handle up.
“So we can stay the night, can’t we?”
“I can’t. I have to get some distance from this.”
“Rasika, sit down. You don’t have to just follow your parents’ lead.” He tried to hand her an ice cream bar.
She strode over to the window and tugged the curtains open.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“I told you.” She flung back the covers of the bed. “I guess the people my parents are staying with have a relative who would be right for me. He’s visiting them now, from Nebraska, and he’s a doctor. So they’re bringing him over.” She kneeled on the floor and looked under the bed. Satisfied that nothing had been left, she pulled up the covers of the bed and smoothed them.
“What’s the hurry?”
“The astrologer said I need to be married before twenty-six. Remember?” She went into the bathroom and opened the shower curtain.
“How do you feel about what we just did?”
“I’d like to give all this up. I’m not proud of myself for doing things like this.”
“If you want to get married, fine. But that doesn’t mean you have to let your parents push you around.”
“I’m not. I really want to marry with their blessing.” She looked under the sink.
“You’re afraid to let your parents know who you really are.”
“My dad would die if he knew about . . .”
“You just think he’d die. The more you let Indian parents boss you around, the more they try to control you. You might as well start gradually getting them used to the idea that you aren’t the person they think you are. And you know what? They’ll get used to it.”
“You don’t know my dad. He gets so upset over the littlest thing. I can’t.” She opened and shut each drawer of the dresser, even though they hadn’t been in the room long enough for her to put anything into the drawers. She grabbed her suitcase handle. “If you want a ride home, you’d better come with me now.” She pulled the suitcase toward the door. “I just wish it
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