“Thank you. I love it.” I pulled out a smaller bag within the larger one. It was stuffed with fancy shimmering paper.
Reema snatched the bag and said sheepishly, “Oh. This is something that you should open when you get home. It’s a surprise.”
“It’s not something dirty, is it? You didn’t buy me a Parisian vibrator?” I quirked a brow. “Because I don’t know what I’ve said that leads you to believe that I use one or need one.”
“No! A woman should buy her own vibrator. We’re best friends, but we’re not that close.”
I peeked into the bag. What could possibly fit into a square the size of my hand? “I might end up leaving sooner just to see what’s in here.”
“Keep looking.”
“There’s more? Oh, my goodness, Reema.” I pulled out two containers of jam.
“For your crepes, of course.”
Then my fingers caressed something cool and smooth. I held up a silk scarf. “Oh, wow. This is gorgeous.” I hugged Reema and then studied the scarf with romantic watercolor-style flowers in various shades of blue, hints of green leaves, strokes of lavender stems, all set against a backdrop of cream and a golden stitched hem. I wrapped it around my neck and clutched the front to my nose.
“It smells like Paris!”
She clapped. “I knew you’d love it! Do I know my girls or what?”
Reema flipped back her hair and ran her hands through it before leaning against the couch arm. “I got this new shampoo over there and my hair feels nice and nourished. But so glad to get a shower and nap in after that long flight. I talked to Liya this morning. She…unloaded. A lot of stuff happened while I was gone. I still need to process her situation. Holy hell.”
“I know,” I said sadly. “But there’s an overwhelming auntie squad rising to support Liya, including our moms.”
She gnawed on her lip, her brows creasing with worry and anger over Liya’s ordeal. But she needed time to get her thoughts straight, which I absolutely understood, and I knew now wasn’t the time to talk about Liya. As if Reema had to make the point clear, she added, “She said you’re staying at her old apartment until her lease is up?”
“Yes. Did she tell you who else is staying there?”
“Yes. Spill the cha,” she demanded with a snap of her fingers.
“Eh?”
“You know: spill the tea. But desi. ’Cause cha is tea.” She swatted the air like she was fighting off a horde of gnats. “Never mind! Anyway, woman, spill it.”
“I think Liya is trying to set me up with Daniel.” I made a face.
“Are we saying his name now? Is that allowed?” Reema asked.
“Yes.”
“Liya knows you’re ready to get engaged. But honestly, girl, not all of us think you are.”
“Oh.” Talk about blunt. And a little hurtful. Here I was trying to go full force into commitment and the only people who believed in us were Yuvan and our parents.
She patted my hands in that motherly way she sometimes did. “It’s coming from a loving place, Preeti. We know you want to move on and make your parents happy, and that you thought maybe this thing with Yuvan would help. But should you really be pushing yourself into this? It shouldn’t be this hard. And we all know you still love Daniel. We don’t want to see you keep hurting. I don’t always agree with Liya’s tactics, but she didn’t do this on purpose. Since you’re with Daniel for a few weeks, you should take advantage of it. You need closure to move on. And maybe the right thing is to try again?”
I sank into the couch. Leave it to best friends to tell you the truth. Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but probably what needed to be said. “You’re not worried?”
“Why should I be?”
“Oh, I dunno…” I gestured wildly and added, “What if my parents found out? My aunts, Yuvan, his parents?”
“No one will find out. It’s just a few weeks, right? And besides, I’d be more worried that you’d fall—” She caught herself, the room suddenly silent save for the rhythmic churning of the washer and dryer in the background.
Worried, huh? Yeah, you and me both.
“Maybe you need this,” she said softly.
“This torture?”
“Are you still in love with him?”
A denial planted itself on my tongue, ready to spring from my lips, but there was no point in trying to deny it. I wasn’t a great liar to begin with, and Reema caught my lies like a net catching fish. Maybe tiny white lies might get past her, but not this ginormous whale of one.
She went on, “Maybe you need this closure, a final goodbye to him. You have to give up any feelings that you have for him if you’re going to marry Yuvan. It’s not fair to either of you. You wouldn’t want to marry a man who’s in love with someone else.”
“I know. I know. I should suck it up and interact with Daniel and prove that I’m over him.”
She considered my words for a few seconds, but Reema knew me well. “You haven’t even had a real conversation with him, have you? Let me guess. Are you avoiding him? Avoiding eye contact? Avoiding all interaction?”
I groaned and threw my head back. “Yes.”
“You can’t dodge him much longer if you’re living together.”
“Sure I can. He’s only going to be there for three weeks. I work late, I can sleep in the on-call room. It’s easy to avoid him.”
“If you cannot be normal around Daniel, lock eyes, exchange a few words, have coffee together, be in the same room and not want to be with him, then there’s some serious self-evaluation that you need to do.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re great at lecturing?” I asked sarcastically.
She shrugged. “Are you in love with him? Is he still in love with you?”
“Why does it matter if he’s in love with me? I’m sure he’s not.”
“Because if he is, maybe y’all can make it work.”
I guffawed. “You’re forgetting that he’s—”
“Black?” she asked dryly. “I know things were hard when word got out about you two, people were cruel and your parents got the brunt of it, but it’s time to woman up if you want to be with him. It’s not like you cowered away or were trying to save face. You were young and scared and made mistakes. You were being human, but this hiding and keeping the truth to yourself is not the you that you are today. You can’t escape being judged in this world. Everything is hard. You have to choose your hard. Someone is going to shove out their unsolicited, hurtful opinion no matter what you do. You can’t live for others.”
I nodded, knowing she was right. I was forever grateful for friends who were honest but patient. Tears pooled in my eyes and I gripped the pillow to keep from crying because, despite Reema’s understanding, she would never be in my shoes.
“Maybe that’s easy to say when you’re in love with the man your family and community and society want you to be with,” I found myself saying before I could think it through. “Same race and culture and religion. Do you think that you’d as easily have married Rohan if he were different? If it hurt your parents so much that your mom had a heart attack because of the community lashing out at her? That the gossip surrounding everything put her in the hospital? Love isn’t just love with us. It affects the entire family.