Chapter 46
JAHNVI
V iolet: Mysterious, rich, p owerful, and royal.
Yellow: Cheerful, vibrant, bright, and, well, me.
After I had tried both of the lehengas on, I asked my family members for advice because I just couldn’t choose one.
Every single vote was for the violet lehenga with the super intricate work and the sparkles.
My dad said if Princess Diana were still alive, she’d be shaking in fear because the lehenga made me look like Queen Elizabeth.
But the yellow one...
It was very simple. The choli, skirt, and the chunni were all a rich yellow and there was a golden floral pattern that was embroidered on everything. Even though it was way less sparkly, it just screamed a simple elegance.
So, I ended up opening the garage and backing out of the driveway in the yellow lehenga.
However, I knew the look of surprise my family had when they ended up getting into the car was not because of the outfit change.
And, as if his shock wasn’t obvious enough, my dad even took the time to get out again and check underneath the car to make sure I hadn’t run anything over in the five seconds it had taken me to back out of the garage.
And no, I actually hadn’t run anything over for once.
I need to tell Everett his lessons were working—
I gripped the wheel tighter and put the car in reverse again.
My dad had already made several trips in the big truck to drop off food in the morning.
Now, we were all attending the wedding because, as it always seems to turn out, the bride and groom realized they knew us (something about our cousins’ parents’ friends or something).
“Huh, you really gonna drive all the way to the venue?” my dad asked, even though I had just (effortlessly if I do say so myself) merged onto the highway. His question was valid since I was always trying to get out of driving.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t even remember teaching you how to merge, did you?” My mom leaned over and tapped my dad’s shoulder from the backseat.
“Nope,” I answered for him. “Everett showed me. Speaking of, is he still showing up today?”
I tried to make the question sound as nonchalant as possible, but it was something in my tone that did it. The crack in my voice was slight enough that my dad missed it, but my mother picked up on it. I could tell because there was a pause before her response,
“Yeah, um, he still needs to drop off those jasmines, so he’ll probably be there for a little bit.”
“He really fumbled the ball with this one, Everett. The wedding manager was really not happy with him backing out so quickly.”
“Why did he, anyway?” I asked, again the attempt at nonchalantly questioning was very weak.
“You know, I didn’t have the time to ask when I was working all night because of him.”
“You’re being a bit harsh don’t you think?”
From the day his parents had died, my dad had prided himself in being as kind and sweet to Everett as possible. I had always loved my dad for it, since he got no profit in return and was doing it out of the goodness of his heart. But this time, he was losing his patience.
“I think he might deserve, um, another chance?”
“Hmm.” My mom broke the silence after a bit. “But how many chances are enough chances?”
I responded with silence.
Because I didn’t know.
This was embarrassing to reveal, but as soon as I heard that he had dropped the wedding order he’d worked so hard for, I had called him immediately. It was like all of my anger about him vanished. He was like family. It was too important.
I had called him a couple of times, actually.
After about twenty missed calls, I left a very simple “Look, I just want to know you’re alive” voicemail. That’s when I really, really , started to worry. Had something horrible happened or something?
Ganesha, all those times I said I wanted him dead, I didn’t mean it!
And then around 3 a.m. last night, I suddenly found myself awake. Having fallen asleep on the carpet, I was still clutching my phone waiting for him to call back. I sat up stiffly, instinctively looking out my window at Everett’s blinds.
They were illuminated.
The stupid motherfucker was home; he was just ignoring me. And even though I should have had steam coming out of my ears, honestly, I was just happy to see he was okay. So, I wrote him a note that I taped on my window.
I’m the world’s biggest loser for doing this, but please call me back.
And then, I fell sound asleep in my bed. He wasn’t my entire world; I needed to get my beauty sleep for the wedding. That much I had decided on, but my brain was still confused.
I should be furious and ignore him completely. But why does that feel wrong?
My ringer was on while I slept. He never called though.
A sound from outside woke me up a few hours later. Excited, I jumped up from my bed and ran to the window, only to not be able to catch his face.
I only saw his arm quickly retract from the window. My smile faded as quickly as it had come, and not just because I couldn’t see him.
He had taken down his old note.
For the first time since seventh grade, his window was completely empty. No mean joke at my expense or jabs at my height, speech capability, or whatever else he had found to make fun of me that week.
Fine. That solidified it.
I took mine down too.
I’d made it perfectly clear that the only way we could work was if he shared his emotions. And, if he forgot about that then there was nothing I could do.
And he was still not off the hook for standing me up at the movies.
So, after I had parked (it still counted even if it was crooked. I got it in the lines!) in the Four Seasons Hotel parking lot, I rushed ahead of my parents and the Mohana Prasad weds Ajay Sai sign into the hotel.
God- dayum.
Maybe I should’ve stuck to the purple lehenga. Even then I would’ve been underdressed. We were pretty early to the wedding, but even the few people already there were all dressed in the brightest, most colorful, expensive looking clothing I’d ever seen.
And I stuck out like a sore thumb.
I already had a feeling about where to find him.
All I had to do was follow the fresh scent that was wafting from the door of the venue.
The sickly-sweet smell of jasmine flowers coming from a little table that people were taking flowers from to put in their hair made me smile, and I wasn’t even a flower person.
They were perfect.
Borrowing a hairpin from an aunty in a neon-green saree, I put a string of jasmines in my hair and started walking into the hallway behind the table. As I kept going, people started getting more and more scarce and my footsteps got louder and louder as the hubbub of the wedding dimmed.
A service door that led outside was propped open with a cardboard box of jasmines. I saw Everett’s truck parked a few feet away.
Found you.
With a wide smile, I stepped outside. It was a cloudy day, and I didn’t even care that a few raindrops were already falling and getting my lehenga wet.
“Ha! Got ya finally. What even happened Ev...Everett?”