Chapter 49
EVERETT
W hen I was younger, I learned something in my biology class that always stuck with me. Apparently, according to brain scans, you see your life again after you die. Life indeed does flash before your eyes.
Maybe it was a weird thing for a fourth grader to be doing, but I would always be thinking about what I’d see when it was my time.
Maybe it was when I was out driving with my friends, the cool night air in my hair and my throat hoarse from screaming out the lyrics of whatever was playing on the radio.
Or maybe it was one of those rare down times when I would cook for my own pleasure at the restaurant.
Maybe it was after prom in eleventh grade, when Shanti and I had. ..well you know.
There was one instance that I knew I’d see again when I die: my parents’ death.
That type of grief stuck with me for years and years. It was something that shaped me, even if it was negative. It was a part of me, so I knew I’d see it again.
I wasn’t certain like that again, until that day I kissed Jahnvi again in the pouring rain.
But this time it was a positive way of shaping me.
Jahnvi gave me a feeling that I knew I would feel for the rest of my life.
A feeling that made me realize I would always have someone that cared for me; someone that loved me for just the way that I was.
In the simplest way: everything was right again.
Everything.
Was.
Right.
Again.
I was right where the universe wanted me to be. When we walked back inside, holding the last of my jasmine flowers together, I couldn’t stop looking at her.
Her hair had gone curly and little water droplets were dripping off the ends. Her eye makeup had smudged, and she was shivering because we were both soaked, but she was just so perfect.
I couldn’t stop touching her.
Jahnvi looked back at me, smiling slightly when I reached for her hand and grasped it. She was holding the last few strands of jasmines in her left hand that I couldn’t fit into the bag I was holding.
There were also still some jasmines in her wet hair. Their sweet smell had me in a daze as I followed her back out into the open.
It was a rich wedding; people were looking.
As we set down the last of the flowers at my little table and walked into the main reception hall, I could feel eyes boring into my head.
I mean, I would be looking too! Two sopping wet Indian teenagers holding hands at someone’s fancy-ass wedding?
We looked like a mess to everyone else, but to me? It was all just perfect.
It was thrilling, holding hands like that and having everyone look.
In my head, I knew it was going to get harder from that day on. I had already made eye contact with Jahnvi’s parents, and understandably they looked very upset. At the end of the day, we were still Brown and she wasn’t supposed to be dating.
After that day, I could only see Jahnvi at school. We graduated two weeks later, so it wasn’t for long. All summer, she couldn’t write her window notes, her phone started getting checked, and I’d have to sneak her out in the middle of the night just to spend time together.
It was the best summer of my life.
We’d cook in my kitchen well after the restaurant closed, spend long nights reading at the library and trying to find my favorite book (they didn’t get around to fixing that broken door until the next fall), and sometimes we’d take long night drives with her at the wheel.
Those were my favorite. We’d leave at sunset and find a patch of grass far away from the city lights and sounds. She’d bring a blanket, I’d bring the freshly baked desserts, and we’d look up at the stars that we never see from the city.
We’d tell each other how much we loved each other.
We’d tell each other how beautiful the other one was.
We’d talk about how everything was changing so quickly
And, faster than I could have ever anticipated, everything changed. After our last late-night drive, I dropped her off at her room, which was fully packed up with boxes, even her bedsheets; she was sleeping on a comforter on the floor.
We stood in the moonlight hugging for hours, crying harder when we felt the other one shake. Eventually, I had to climb back out her window and she left for college the next morning.
I was at the restaurant, so I never saw her car pull away.
It became even harder after that.
Daily FaceTimes became weekly FaceTimes and good morning texts became scarcer and scarcer.
Most of my calls got a “Sorry, I’m busy right now” after the first three months, and when she’d come back for breaks, she looked totally different.
With a different style of makeup, weird phrases I never guessed she’d use, and constant mentioning of things and people I had never heard of. I hardly knew her anymore.
She outgrew me.
Weekly texts turned into once-in-every-few-months texts.
She became busy studying for her LSATs and getting her degree while I, as always, was busy trying to keep the business together.
I congratulated her on getting into UPenn for law school and she congratulated me on opening a new branch a few miles away.
She sent condolences when my grandmother passed away, and I never responded in my funeral frenzy and grief.
That was the last text for a long time.
Six years from my big wedding order that started everything, she got engaged to some rich accountant from New York.
But we didn’t have to worry about that yet.
Because today, we were just eighteen and grasping at the newness of it all.
Here I was, standing next to the girl that I had, I’ll admit it, crushed on for the better part of my life knowing that she loved me just as much as I did her.
For the first time in my life, I felt that heat in my stomach and that sense of overprotection for someone.
Jahnvi was mine. Mine to keep and cherish.
At my first Hindu wedding, I learned that things were done a little bit differently. Instead of the monumental words “I do,” there is a mustard-colored string coated in sandalwood that is tied around the bride’s neck by the groom, a signal of devotion.
When the string was brought out, the drums suddenly got louder. We were standing in the back where we weren’t a distraction, but we still had a good view. The groom started tying the string around her neck. I reached for Jahnvi’s hand.
One knot. She reached out and grasped my hand midway.
Two knots. I squeezed her hand once.
Three knots. She squeezed once too.
Because for that night, with the rest of our lives in front of us, we believed with our entire hearts that we would last infinitely.
Who was going to tell us otherwise?