Chapter 21
JAHNVI
“I mean, Chicago has a lot of public transportation. Cars honestly slow you down in the city, and I mean you don’t really have a need to drive right now,” Everett said, looking out the window.
“But I kinda do ,” I told him. “I do need to drive. It’s...well, how do I put this? I guess I feel guilty.”
“About what?”
“Well, ugh, you’re never going to let this go.
” I drummed my fingers on the wheel. “About being spoiled , like you’ve always said.
My parents have given me everything, and I can’t even learn to drive?
I feel bad not being able to help them when they go out on grocery runs and pickups.
My dad was complaining about how he couldn’t move crates like he used to when he went to pick something up, and it hurts to.
..to see him get old right in front of me and not be able to help. ”
Everett went silent for a second before saying slowly, “Well, I mean you’re only eighteen, right? You’ll eventually get a cushy job and support your parents financially.”
“I know, I know, and I will! Why do you think I’m going to be a business major next year?
It’s just...” I wrestled with the words, “I-I just can’t be a disappointment to them, you know?
They put in so much work to move countries and give me a good childhood, so I need to be able to bring their work to the next level.
I want to help them retire in peace and move back to India, and I want to keep the restaurant going, if that’s what they want.
And I can’t explain it...but driving plays a part in all that. ”
Silence.
I chuckled nervously. “Hey, Everett, you still there?” Turning my head, I tried to glance at him, but I felt the car veer, so I jerked it back to the center of the lane.
“Mmm, make sure to keep the wheel straight.” He sat up. “And I didn’t mean to go all silent on you. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize—”
“I get it,” Everett interrupted me, still looking out the window.
“Not wanting to disappoint your parents, I mean. My parents wanted nothing more than to see people eat good food, food that actually tastes like Indian food. They sold their family house back in India to buy the restaurant, and under my leadership the restaurant is on the verge of shutting down. They’re not even here, but I feel like I disappoint them every day. ”
“Hey, well—”
“But I fight for the restaurant every day because I share their vision. I want people to experience my favorite foods and my cooking. You know it’s a big hobby of mine to cook.
However, I think you’re being too harsh on yourself, Jahnvi.
” I felt him turn to look at me, even though I kept my eyes on the road.
“Your parents are proud of you, very, very much so. It shows in everything they do for you; it’s because they care and know you will continue to do great things.
So, I think you should go out and do more things you like. ”
I chuckled. “Like what? Go out and join a traveling acting group? Be serious.”
“I am,” he responded, deadpan. “Cut down on the restaurant shifts, ’cause I know you hate those. Come to Kyle’s party this Saturday; hell join an acting group that doesn’t travel! Even if you are an immigrant, Jahnvi, you don’t have to live for your parents.”
You don’t have to live for your parents.
“I...don’t live for my parents,” I muttered, but even I heard the uncertainty in my voice.
He shook his head. “You help them in so many ways already, but imagine how sad they would be if they knew you were limiting yourself for them. Driving, sure. It’s a skill you need.
But you don’t need to feel guilty every day for not being the perfect kid.
Speaking from...personal experience.
That feeling will keep eating at you until you can’t focus on anything anymore. ”
I met his eyes as he looked at me. The car didn’t swerve this time.
I smiled, turning away. “I’m sure your parents are proud of you too, from wherever they are. I see all the work you’re putting in for your restaurant just like they did, and just when I think it’s all too much for someone to handle by themselves, you come out stronger and more successful.”
“I’m not doing it by myself; I get good help.” He smiled at me then whipped out his phone and started giving me directions about where to turn. It seemed like we were out in the middle of nowhere.
Whenever I told people that I lived in Chicago, they always thought that I lived right downtown.
They think I wake up with a view of the Trump building every morning.
But my school was on the outside of what people consider “Chicago,” or in other words, downtown.
I lived in a pretty normal neighborhood in a house that looked like any other house in the Midwest. The restaurant was on Devon street along with most other Indian restaurants in Chicago, and I really only went downtown when I needed to, which was like once or twice a month max.
So, since we’d been driving away from our neighborhood for quite some time now, it seemed like we were in the middle of Iowa. I’d taken a turn into a single stretch of road where I was the only vehicle. The only thing around us for miles were cornfields and a lone tractor.
“Do you get your sugar sacks from a barn or something?” I asked Everett as I stopped at a stop sign. I probably didn’t even need to stop; not a single human being was around.
“Take a right here. It’s a big supply building,” Everett explained. “You’ll see it soon enough. They ship to restaurants all over the US, probably including yours, but I pick mine up to avoid the shipping charge.”
“Left here?”
“Err...” He looked down at the directions on his phone again. “Yeah, yes! Turn here. Oh, and look, you can see the building already.” He pointed to something in the distance.
It looked like an airplane hangar. It was a big gray building that had started rusting at the top. I tried to look for a sign or something to indicate that it was a supply building. It didn’t even have a parking lot.
“Where am I supposed to park then?”
“Just near the building. It would be easy if you parked near that white door because that’s where we get the sacks from.”
“But like, without lines how am I supposed to know I parked straight? What if we can’t park there and we get towed?” When I was met with silence, I looked over to see him looking at me in disbelief. “What?”
“Jahnvi...how—never mind.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Just guess. It doesn’t matter how you park. We won’t get towed, promise.”
“I warned you,” I muttered, turning the wheel to try and park near the gray exterior of the building. In the end, we were still very much crooked, but he didn’t seem to mind. I didn’t mind either, I was just happy to not be driving anymore.
I tossed him the keys. “I think I’m never driving again.”
“Pickles, you will be driving again. I’m not giving up on you just yet.”
I looked at him, my face twisted in something that resembled surprise. “Even after I almost killed you twenty times?”
“Don’t give yourself that much credit; you weren’t that bad.” He smiled, twirling his car keys on his index finger. “I was actually way worse when I was learning.”
I knew he was just saying that to make me feel better. But that did bring up a question. “Wait, Everett, who did you learn from, anyway? Does your grandma drive?”
“If my grandma drove, she’d hit even more mailboxes than you. I learned with Manny, you know the guy that helped when we ran out of gas?”
“Oh, yeah he seemed nice.”
“Yeah, very nice. Well”—he looked down at his watch—“we actually have some time before we can go in. They kinda run on an appointment-basis thing and we’re early.”
“How early?”
“Like twenty minutes early.”
“Really?” I looked at him, eyes mid-roll. “Then, we could’ve left later. You could’ve let me go home and have something to eat or something. I’m starving.”
“Great, I have just the thing.” He reached behind him to the backseat and pulled out a small red bag. Throwing it at me, he smiled. “I know how you are, so I brought sustenance.”
I looked down at my hands; it was the Indian brand of chips that I absolutely adored. “Y-you know my favorite brand?”
“Well, yeah. You made me buy like thirty of them when we were getting flowers. And I definitely don’t want to see you hangry. The world wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
He was twisting himself again, trying to reach something in the back seat. He made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal.
But he’d remembered.