Chapter Fourteen
KIRAN
Kiran opened one eye blearily, the other side of her face still smushed against her pillow, and glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table.
She was old school—no cell phones until she’d woken up, brushed her teeth, showered, did her pooja, and sat with a cup of chai. She didn’t need technology ruining her routine. A basic Harry Potter alarm clock would do the job.
But it was Saturday…so getting up later than “the ass crack of dawn,” as Sonam would put it, was acceptable.
She sighed, half closing her eyes again. The temptation of another few minutes underneath her covers was drawing her in… And then the vague voice that speaks just as one drifts off reminded her what date it was.
Her eyes opened. The sleep, which had tugged at her eyelids and gently pulled them shut, vanished like smoky vapors in the night.
Sitting up in bed, her nightshirt slipping off her shoulders, she clasped her hands in her lap.
August 15.
“Happy birthday, Didi,” she whispered.
She closed her eyes and willed her hushed message to go to India, to be heard in her sister’s heart, wherever she was. Kiran hoped that DNA was stronger than a double helix—that it could serve as a connection that transcended continents and years. Maybe even lifetimes.
A memory came to her in that moment like a deafening roar of thunder.
“Didi, why are there fireworks today?”
The terrace of the house was hot on Kiran’s small feet, even at night, but she didn’t want to miss a moment of the sky lighting up in colored sparks.
“It’s Indian Independence Day, Kiran. But, Chottu, do you want to know a secret?” her big sister asked, using Kiran’s nickname—an endearment that meant she was the littlest.
She slid off her flip-flops and helped Kiran slide them on instead.
“Yes, yes! Tell me a secret!” Five-year-old Kiran hopped up and down.
“The fireworks are really because it’s my birthday,” Kirti whispered in her little sister’s ear.
“Really?”
“And you want to know another secret? You’ll do lots of big things, and Mama and Baba and I will celebrate you too. It’ll be like we did tonight with sweets and balloons…maybe bigger!”
Kiran smiled softly to herself. It had been twenty-three years since that birthday, and she still thought of her sister as the reason fireworks went off on August 15.
Then another memory came to her.
She was older now. Ten, maybe.
“Baba, fireworks!” she shouted.
She raced upstairs to the terrace on top of their tiny house, where she had stood with her sister five years ago. Kirti’s face was already fading over the years, but without fail, on her birthday, Kiran would remember the fireworks were for her.
She startled when she saw Baba standing next to her.
“Why don’t you call Ma up too, Baba? Doesn’t she want to see?”
“She gets sad on this day, beta. It’s better to let her be.”
As she observed her father’s face, lighting up and plunging into darkness from the lights in the sky, she noticed a tear trickling down his cheek. She reached up on her tiptoes and touched his face.
He gazed down at her, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “Always taking care of us.”
“Do you miss her too, Baba?”
“Every day, Kiran.” He stared into the distance, his eyes empty and brimming at the same time. “But now my responsibility is to you.”
He pulled her close to his side, and they watched the rest of the fireworks in silence.
Kiran had thought of Kirti more and more often lately.
What did she look like? Did she have any children? Was Kiran an aunt all these years but unable to celebrate birthdays, good grades, Diwali, and the start of summer with her nieces or nephews? Did her parents ever forgive their older daughter?
Nash had mentioned that his aunt had bought doughnuts every time he brought home good grades. Would Kiran have taken laddoos to their houses or gone to India more often to see them?
Even more than wondering about what life would have looked like had they taken a different path, she often questioned how Kirti had come to her decision to marry the man she fell in love with. How she made the choice to leave the family for good. How she decided it was worth her parents’ pain to chase her own happiness.
If she admitted it to herself, Kiran was mad too—mad at the fact that she lived life by the book because of her sister’s mistake. Angry that her whole life had been planned based on making her parents happy because they’d already seen the worst and she never wanted them to experience it again. And ashamed when she thought of all her parents gave her, did for her, sacrificed for her, so that she could succeed.
But she wasn’t so angry that she wouldn’t check in on her parents.
“Hello, Kiran?”
“Ma, how are you?”
Kiran could hear firecrackers in the background, despite the pleas of politicians not to pollute the atmosphere further.
“Good…good,” Ma said, subdued. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well. I was thinking of you and wanted to see how you and Baba were.”
“Oh, Baba is fine. Here, you can talk to him if you’d like.”
Kiran sighed, her heart aching for her mom and the silent pain she must have felt with every celebratory explosion outside.
“Kiran, Beta,” Baba’s voice came on the line. He was quiet, and Kiran had to press the phone to her ear. “How is the city? How is work?”
“Both are great. Is Ma okay?”
“She—” He hesitated. “You know how it is.”
“Baba, have you ever thought about reaching out to her?” The question spilled out before she could stop it.
Baba remained quiet. If the fireworks hadn’t gone off in the background, Kiran wouldn’t have known he was on the other end of the line.
“Baba?”
“Let sleeping dogs lie, jaan.”
“But if you just—”
“We let her go. She left. There is nothing we can do.”
Baba’s tone had turned curt, and Kiran knew not to push the typically levelheaded man any further.
“Okay. I’m thinking of you guys.”
“We’re always thinking of you too. The one consolation we have on this day is that you will always follow our rules.”
Kiran closed her eyes. “Yes, Baba. Always.”
“Go enjoy your day, Kiran. We’ll talk to you soon.”
The click sounded, and Kiran dropped the phone on the bed next to her.
“Argh!” she bellowed.
Silence resounded back. She whipped the covers off herself, letting a blast of cool air hit her.
Anyone up? She texted the CMC. I’m in my head and I need to get out.
Working, came Sonam’s reply.
It’s nine a.m. Go back to bed and sleep it off. Akash was a notorious late riser.
I’ll meet you for coffee at the Starbucks by my place in an hour, Payal responded.
“So…what happened after?” Payal asked when they met up.
Kiran had recapped the night last week when she and Nash sat on the roof, telling her friend how he’d opened up about his mother but omitting the details—it wasn’t her story to tell.
“We spent the rest of the night talking,” Kiran said. “About how his friend Brandon’s family is like his own. About how his aunt Kate got married later in life because she was so independent, and also because she always wanted to be around for him. We talked about how he loves brussels sprouts and how I hate the way cauliflower smells when it’s boiled.”
“Kiran, tell me something. Seriously. No filter. Do you want Nash? Do you like him?”
Putting it into the universe—saying it out loud—was more real than the very same question Kiran had been asking herself before bed, every time she was about to see Nash, and sometimes at random moments during her day.
She couldn’t want Nash. Her sister was literally disowned for falling in love with the man of her choosing. How could she bear to make the same choice, knowing what consequences lay ahead—not only for her but for her aging parents who only had one child left to make their dreams come true?
Love was dangerous. And while some could argue that like wasn’t quite the same or as risky and that perhaps she was due for some fun, Kiran knew better. She was nearly thirty, ready to settle down, and she didn’t want to waste her time on like. If she wanted anything, it was to love deeply—and Nash couldn’t be that person.
And Baba… His heart was already frail after facing the weight of giving up a child and years of trying to stay afloat. She owed it to her parents not to screw up, not to fall for someone different, and instead to do exactly what was expected of her. If she didn’t, the results could quite literally break Baba’s heart. He told her this morning that he trusted her to follow the rules, for God’s sake.
But the idea of following the rules, of ending up with someone who didn’t breathe life into her the way Nash had didn’t settle with her.
Could Nash be that person?
Nash lit sparks inside her. There was an acceptance in him for all her traits that she hadn’t experienced with anyone. Even the men she had gone on dates with didn’t seem quite as interested in her, their eyes wandering as she spoke of home, ready to move on to the next American thing without being able to love where they’d come from. Nash didn’t even have parents, yet he was thankful about the things he did have and approached new experiences as ones to learn from. Who wouldn’t want that in their lives?
She was falling for him and she knew it. And while she thought he might feel the same growing sparks, she didn’t know for certain. Certainty had always been something she needed.
Despite the stab of disappointment at the idea that perhaps he didn’t feel anything for her, she couldn’t ignore the hope it inspired too. It would make life so much easier. There would be no confusion.
“Kiran…you’re in a different galaxy.” Payal snapped her fingers in front of Kiran’s face.
“Sorry.” She blinked a couple of times.
“Tell me.”
“You know, I shared with him that we had lists of things to do, and he’s the one who encouraged me to add to mine.”
“And?”
“He wrote one too. And we ended up expanding them and doing things together.”
“And in that time, in those moments when you were ticking off things you’d always wanted to do but never had the courage or time or guts to do, did you look at him and think that he’d make a good person to keep trying new things with? Like…love?”
“There were other four-letter words involved.”
Payal laughed. “I hope ‘fuck’ was one of them.”
Now it was Kiran’s turn to giggle. “Not quite in the context you’re thinking. More like ‘Fuck, what am I doing?’”
“And what are you going to do? And don’t say ‘What can I do?’ because that’s a cop-out. You do have options. You don’t want to see them.”
“Payal, if I tell him I like him, then I’m fucked. If I don’t, my heart grows more burdened with keeping it to myself.”
“Then unburden it…and don’t worry so much about the future. You’re worrying what happens if you fall in love and get married. You’re thinking twelve steps ahead.”
“That’s what I do.”
“I know. I’m reminding you to stay present.”
“How?”
“See where it goes. Worry later. See how this plays out. Whether he feels the same… I wager he does, but guys are funny, so spend time with him. You might notice he’s worth fighting for…and if he isn’t, then he wasn’t meant for you.”
It seemed so simple wrapped up like that. And despite her gut telling her that she was a mess, Kiran tried to believe it was.
A week later, Kiran stretched out at her desk. She’d spent her Saturday morning at the office, tying up some loose ends from the week, and her stomach gave a rumble resembling a small earthquake.
“Yikes,” she mumbled to herself.
Her favorite Indian restaurant was in Midtown, and she could stop there for a brunch special, but her taste buds were craving something different today. The weather was a balmy eighty degrees, and she didn’t want to waste a minute of sunshine being inside for any longer than she had to.
Hit with an idea, she wondered if any of the CMC was free to meet but realized that Sonam was at the hospital, Payal was flying back to London to spend a long weekend with her grandmother, and Akash had his sister’s Kathak dance recital to attend.
Nash.
His name came to mind like a flash of lightning. She had promised him good food. It’d been a week since they spent the night on their roof deck, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she missed him.
Kiran: On a scale of 1 to “I ate my arm three hours ago,” how hungry are you?
Nash: Hey, stranger! Long time, no talk…and my stomach is growling. Why?
Kiran’s heart felt warm at his greeting.
Kiran: Smorgasburg?
Nash: Gesundheit?
Kiran didn’t see that reaction coming, and she burst out laughing.
Kiran: It’s the food festival that happens every Saturday in Brooklyn. It’s on my list. Want to go?
Nash: Sold.
Kiran: Meet you there in an hour?
Upon his agreement, Kiran packed up her bag and made a stop at the restroom to check her appearance. She hardly ever came to the office without dressing appropriately and having a dash of makeup on. The work environment automatically made her feel as though she needed to be professional at all times, even on the weekends.
She pulled a hairbrush from her bag and gently ran it through her hair, smoothing it out with a tiny bit of coconut oil from the bottle she carried. She glossed over her lips with a nude-tinted balm and tucked her white shirt into her flowing summer skirt crisply before heading toward the elevator.
Two subway rides later, she was waiting for Nash at their agreed-upon meeting spot in the middle of a giant crowd. It seemed like all of Manhattan had the same idea as she did.
“There are probably more people here than live in all of Nashville.” She heard a chuckle from behind her.
“Nash!” Without thinking twice, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close for a hug.
“Hi! Thanks for inviting me. This was a great idea!”
“It looks like half the city is here. It’s been ages since we’ve seen this happen.”
Scents of food from various parts of the world wafted through the air, making her mouth water. Indian. Ethiopian. Colombian. Spanish. Persian. Every corner of the world was represented.
“So should I try Indian food here?” Nash asked.
Kiran considered it. “No…we’ll save that for a special occasion. But let’s try everything else!”
“Do I want a fried spaghetti doughnut?”
“Don’t knock it until you try it. Those things are surprisingly good.”
“Wow, you really are a foodie, aren’t you?”
“Whatever. A girl should have a good appetite to do all she does.”
“Okay, I can’t disagree there.” Nash put his hands up in surrender.
“I guess tasting all these different cuisines is my way of exploring the world and fulfilling childhood dreams.”
“You didn’t have a lot of variety in India?”
“Well, you have to remember I grew up in a rural area when I was young, and back then, there wasn’t quite as much globalization. Indo-Chinese food wasn’t unusual, but our family couldn’t afford it, and everything else didn’t become popular until the internet hit and the world got smaller.”
“I never thought about that. I’ve always been used to having all these different things at my fingertips…though we couldn’t really afford to eat out much, and I was a free-lunch kid.”
“A free-lunch kid?” Kiran frowned.
“Yes, it means you fall below a certain income line and the school gives you free lunches and sometimes breakfasts.”
“Wow. In India, if you couldn’t afford certain things, you just didn’t go to school. I was lucky we made ends meet, but there were plenty of children who never attended, especially in villages.”
“It’s sad that it’s so different between countries and, at the same time, not different at all.”
“Women and children are often the victims of societal failures, right?”
Nash nodded.
“Well, now that I’ve thoroughly succeeded in making this a depressing day…want to eat?” Kiran asked.
Nash threw his head back and laughed. “Trust me, you are the least depressing person. You’re on.”
Their world tour began with Ethiopia and ended with all-American ice cream. Nash even allowed Kiran to pay for half the stalls, placing orders at most of them based on her recommendation. She was sure he’d learned from the last time they’d gone to dinner.
“Here,” he said, handing her a cookie-dough ice cream cone and holding his own chocolate brownie.
As she took it, her fingertips brushed against his hand. They closed around the cone, but Nash didn’t move his hand. Their eyes locked, and the heat from his body felt like she’d sprung a fever, despite holding ice cream.
Her breath stuck in her throat. And when he released her hand, it sucked back into her lungs in one fell swoosh.
Kiran could feel the tingles he left there long after they found a picnic table.
“Ugh…” Kiran groaned. “I can’t finish this.”
She pulled the ice cream away from her lips and set her hand on the table, feeling nauseated. She had gotten through precisely half the ice cream before calling it quits.
“I’ll finish it.” Nash took the cone and licked it.
Kiran spotted his tongue and wondered what else it could do. Heat rose up her chest.
“How can you eat so much?” she asked, trying to distract her mind from the dirty thoughts it had.
“Seeing as you’re a foot shorter than I am and probably half my weight, I feel like that question answers itself.” Nash grinned, polishing off the last of the cone.
They stood, stretching to accommodate the giant meals they’d eaten.
“Hey! First off, not a foot shorter. I’m five four, and you are, at most, six feet tall. Secondly, you are nowhere near 250 pounds, so quit your sassy attitude.”
“Should we prove that theory?”
“How—what? Nash!”
Before she knew it, Nash had scooped her over his shoulder and started walking toward an open space.
“Put me down!” She giggled. “Okay, you’ve proven your point!”
“Say it loud… I’m a monster!” Nash yelled in jest.
“You’re a big, muscly monster!” She laughed, her belly against his shoulder.
He set her down and hunched over, his hands on his knees. “Okay, this big, muscly monster is not strong.”
Kiran was hunched over too but in mirth. She’d seen Payal act this openly flirtatious with guys before, but she never thought she would be so carefree with someone, allowing them to grab her in public and play with her as if she were a toy that could be tossed around at will.
It was empowering.
But as she looked around, she caught the eye of an aunty wearing a sari, surrounded by her family. The disapproval on the elderly woman’s face was enough to make Kiran feel shame in being so brazen. And she had to wonder, against her better judgment, whether she would feel as uncomfortable if Nash were Indian.