Chapter Twenty-Seven Rupi
Twenty-Seven
Rupi
Imust’ve fallen asleep again while reading to Baba, because when I come awake, I sense a presence.
Before I can startle, Saj speaks, the rumbly, calming voice sparking under my skin in a way I hate, because I realize I’ve been waiting for it.
“Morning. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He says it softly because Baba is sleeping, and the net impact of that voice leaving his body softly is spectacularly unfair.
I turn around and meet his gaze. “Then why are you sneaking up on me?”
He laughs. Gosh, how can making someone laugh be this satisfying?
“Are you here to take your girlfriend out?”
This time he groans. “Can you please help me out with that?” He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. His arms are folded across his chest, and he’s wearing a suit. Oh, and he’s completely unaware of what a meme he’s being.
How has this man not killed anyone yet?
My heart does some sort of weird racing, and I ask it to stop being idiotic. I’m not the Count Dracula type.
I stand up and walk to him. “You need my help with asking my sister out?”
“Not funny.”
I pinch my thumb and forefinger together. “A little bit funny.”
His eyes flare with something. I think I like his robotic eyes better.
I’ve spent the past weeks trying not to think about him telling me how he wanted to burn down the place where I was trapped and throw Ron in jail if he were alive, and the fact that he didn’t take Tina’s case without asking me, and the fact that he navigated my terms without once shaming me for them.
“It would really help if you asked Prem’s mom to lay off the matchmaking. She’s getting quite insistent, and she listens to you.”
She hardly knows me I want to say, but I’m acquainted with this man’s bullshit meter. “Maybe take your best friend on your date. He needs to be spending some time with”—I check to see if Baba is still asleep—“her. Win-win.”
“Is he still gone a lot?”
“He’s home today. But yes, pretty much all the time. She’s not doing well.”
“Are you going to ask about an exit strategy again?”
I was thinking it. “No.”
That’s when I notice that he’s carrying a folder, and he’s here on a Wednesday evening. “Are you here to try and push me about Tina again?”
“No. I’m still finding you your answers for that.”
“Then are you here for another reason?”
“Yes.” He pauses a long second as he looks down into my upturned face. “I think you’re going to like this much more than our last meeting.”
Dude, I already like this a little too much. “Is this you withholding pleasure from me?”
He blushes, of all things. Then gives another unnecessarily hot laugh. I just flustered Saj Rawal, and it’s unexpectedly sweet. Need cramps low in my belly.
Our gazes hold. He seems to forget what he was about to say.
“Saj?”
He blinks.
“You have news for me?”
“Yes.” He straightens up and squares his shoulders as though bracing himself for my reaction.
“What is it?”
“Our petition for an extension of your tourist visa came through.”
“Are you serious?” Joy explodes inside me, and relief and disbelief. “That’s . . . that’s really good, right?”
“It’s a best-case scenario. Yes.”
Oh my god! I throw my arms around him. “Thank you!”
His body jolts. Then goes very still. Not a muscle moves. His arms hang by his sides.
Embarrassment blooms inside me. What was I thinking? I’m not even a hugger.
I start to pull away. His arms come around me.
In the space of a single breath, his body warms and melts and pulls me close.
So close. It’s like he’s gathering me into himself.
His hands are big and steady and his chest more solid than anything I’ve ever experienced.
And his smell, the feel of the suit, the rhythm of his breathing.
Every piece of me is swallowed whole in that hug.
Dear god, who hugs like this?
When I pull away, my legs are wobbly. His hand on my elbow gives me back my bearings.
For the briefest moment, his eyes hide nothing. They lay him bare. They’re defenseless, helpless, fathomless. Everything. I see everything.
Behind us Baba clears his throat, and I spin around.
He’s watching us with his signature curiosity and kindness.
“My visa extension came through,” I say, going to him. My voice comes out louder than I expected, and I temper it. “This is going to make applying for a green card so much easier. It’s going to make everything so much easier, isn’t it, Saj?”
I wait, but Saj says nothing, so I turn to him.
“It is,” his gravelly voice says. “This is going to make everything so much easier.” The way his eyes fight those words makes me tremble.
Please, can he go back to being a robot?
Baba smiles and raises his hand to make his favorite gesture, the thumbs-up.
“What’s going to make things easier?” Prem asks, coming into the room.
He’s carrying a plate with pizza cut into sample-size pieces.
He’s back in town and has been working on his beloved family pizzas all day, as though it will somehow set him free.
He’s lost weight in the past two months and is looking one hundred years old. How does his family think he’s happy?
Saj updates him on the visa situation. We’re two weeks away from the wedding. This is really good news. For me. I have to keep my mind on that. I can’t think about my sister crying in my arms. I certainly can’t think about the sadness dragging at Prem. They’ll still have each other.
Prem makes the effort to smile. “I just made some family pizza. Want to taste?” He tries to feed a piece into Baba’s mouth. Baba stops him. He takes a piece from the plate and moves his hand, with all his focus, to his mouth, by himself.
Prem turns to me. There is such incredulousness in his eyes. “Did you see that?” For the first time since I met him, he seems awake and alive. His eyes shine with his father’s success. Maybe I do see what my sister sees in him.
“Baba’s been doing that more and more. It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” I say, pride filling me.
Baba grins and points at me.
“What? She did it? How?” Prem says.
I feel Saj’s eyes on me.
“I didn’t. This was all him. I think his body is getting stronger. It’s natural progression in his healing. He’s worked so hard on it.”
Baba rolls his eyes. I wonder if he learned that from me.
“Mamma was saying you spend all your time here and you’ve been getting him to do some movement or the other continuously.”
“Again, it’s all Baba. He’s the one doing all the work.”
Prem squeezes his shoulder. “That’s fantastic, Baba.”
Baba looks at me and then at the window. It’s something we’ve been talking about.
“Actually, Prem,” I say, “I need help with something. Do you think we can take Baba out of the house?”
Prem looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, then at his father. What he sees there gives him pause.
“His wheelchair is state of the art. And his muscle control is better than it’s ever been since the stroke. I talked to his doctor. She thinks it’s a good idea.”
“You want to do this?” he asks his father and gets a nod, a strong nod, in return.
The light is back in Prem’s eyes. “I’ll talk to Mamma.” Then he turns to me. “Rupi, I don’t know how to thank you. This is . . . this is fantastic. Thank you.”
“Well, umm, what’s on the pizza?” I ask instead of responding.
“It’s charred eggplant.”
Baba makes a face and a sound that’s close to “yuck.”
“Like bharta?” I ask. I love bharta, but why would anyone put bharta on pizza?
Prem nods, and I take a bite.
He waits.
“It’s . . . well, it’s not great.” Surprisingly, it’s not terrible either. “But there’s something there. There’s potential.”
Prem looks a little too thrilled with that bare praise. He holds out the plate to Saj, who takes a step back and raises a hand. “You know I don’t eat eggplant.”
“You don’t eat eggplant?” I ask with utter horror. “Who doesn’t eat eggplant?”
“Anyone with taste buds,” Saj mumbles.
“Are you listening to this guy?” I ask Prem.
For the first time in my life, I see Prem grin with his whole heart. His entire face comes into play, and ugh, I totally get what my sister sees.
“It’s no use casting pearls before swine,” he says, eyes twinkling.
“No kidding,” I say. “You know what? We’re going to fix this, and then Saj is going to taste it, and he’s going to admit to being wrong.”
Baba gives a jubilant grunt and, you guessed it, a thumbs-up.
“No, I’m not,” Saj says.
“We’ll see about that,” I say. “Come on.”
Prem follows me out, and Saj trails behind us.
For the next hour, Prem and I figure out what the eggplant topping was missing. He’s really good at flavors. We reduce the amount of cumin, remove the coriander. Add a dash of garlic and experiment with both feta and parmesan. Eggplant goes well with both.
Much to everyone’s surprise, Saj stays. It has nothing to do with me.
Neel and Nathan, probably his favorite humans on earth, have been in a war of the worlds with their grandmother about doing math homework since they got back from school, but the minute their uncle offers to help, they get on it like it’s one of their video games.
He takes off his jacket, loosens his tie, and rolls up his shirtsleeves. Basically, he’s showing off, because what is it with those forearms? And where the hell does one find shirts that fit like that?
Mamma joins Baba in their room, and they turn on an old black-and-white Hindi movie on full volume. Every fifteen minutes a song breaks out, and I want to hum.
Obviously, I don’t.
Because the urge to hum is as alien to me as the rest of this circus. Be that as it may, I’m here now. So, I might as well teach this boy to trust his flavors.
The pizza turns out spectacular. Prem even tweaks the dough with some fennel seeds.
Saj does not take a bite.
Talk about stubborn. I set Neel and Nathan on him. They challenge and goad and call him chicken and run around him, flapping their arms and making clucking sounds. Finally he takes a nibble. It’s mostly dough and feta, but he’s tasting it.