Chapter 9
Ani
It was Saturday afternoon, and Ani’s sister, Talar, had one hour of time when she wasn’t working, so the five of them (their parents, Talar, and Talar’s husband, Nshan) gathered at their parents’ house for an early dinner.
Ani was currently in full kid mode. Splayed on her parents’ couch, eating manti. She had helped make them at least. She and her mother had cheated and used premade wonton wrappers for the dough, so they weren’t as perfect as when her grandma Yiayia made them, but still, they ended up delicious.
It was a clear, cold afternoon, and the sun was setting, filling her childhood home with golden light. Ani had survived the rest of the wedding fitting with Kami and her family, and then she went home to work on more aspects of Kami and Grace’s wedding the rest of the day.
The fitting. It had been on track to be a huge disaster, with Ani losing all sense of professionalism…until Raffi. He’d waltzed in like a savior, right when she’d needed him. She didn’t know she’d needed him.
The way he listened to her, the way he continued to buck every stereotype she’d imagined (besides the way he dressed, which was still, very much, to impress). There was something about Raffi.
That’s why she needed to call her friend Nareh, who had originally warned her off the guy.
Ani had Talar’s secondhand perspective; now she needed Nareh’s firsthand one.
Really, she needed to confirm that the Raffi she knew was, in fact, the same person Nareh had cautioned her about. But that call could wait.
For now, she had one other unpleasant order of business. Ani still hadn’t told her sister or family whose wedding she was planning.
Her mother hovered over Nshan, asking in Armenian, “Would you like more, my son?”
“Yes, please, that would be great,” he said with a smile.
Ani bristled somewhat. Nshan was fine, always in a good mood, but he was just too…comfortable being doted on. He didn’t so much as once put a plate in the sink. But Talar never said a single negative word about him, so maybe she was fine with it.
When her mom had refilled Nshan’s plate and finally sat to eat herself, Ani said, “So, that new luxury wedding I booked. Did I, uh, tell you whose wedding it is?”
“No, tsakougus,” her mother said.
“Someone we know?” Talar raised an eyebrow. Her parents might have been oblivious, but Talar, the lawyer, was not. She drank her tahn and kept her eyes trained on Ani.
“You could say that. It’s actually a funny story. I didn’t realize who had booked it because it’s two brides, and I’d only talked to one of the brides. This actress, Grace.”
“An actress! How very interesting,” said her father. “Anything we know her in?”
“Not unless you’re into indie films,” Ani said.
“What is ‘indie’?” Bab whispered to Mom.
Ani smiled, then continued. “But then I got to the venue and met the other bride and it was—well, it was Kami.”
Talar choked on her tahn, and it appeared to go straight up her nose because she grabbed a napkin and coughed and blew. Her father jumped up to pat Talar on her back. Nshan surveyed the scene with mild interest.
“Who’s Kami?” he asked.
Ani rolled her eyes. He had met Kami twice, a few weeks before the breakup.
“Her—” came Talar’s strained voice. She coughed and appeared to regain her composure.
“Ex-girlfriend! The one who broke her heart into a thousand pieces.” Now she rounded on Ani, and Ani knew how opposing counsel felt standing across from Talar.
“You’re planning her wedding? Are you out of your mind? ”
Mom and Bab jumped in at once, admonishing Talar for her harshness.
“But,” Mom said, “Talar has a point. Why are you doing this, Ani jan?”
Ani, after some thought, now had a much better answer for this than “Because I can’t say no to Kami,” like she’d stupidly told Raffi. Or better than the truth, which is that she was in massive, crushing debt and needed the job.
“This is the only true luxury wedding I’ve ever gotten,” she said. With the Avedissians, Ani had been so busy with the details of the wedding, she hadn’t had time to show off to her family all that she was doing. And thank goodness, because look how that turned out.
“Hey—” Talar said.
“Tal,” Ani said. “You told me—and I quote—‘I’m going to be penny-pinching left and right,’ then handed me a hot glue gun and wished me luck.”
Talar gestured at her, sputtering, “You’re amazing at DIY!”
“Thank you, but anyway,” Ani continued, “the point is, my portfolio is lacking, and if I want to attract more high-end clients, this wedding, this massive budget and the vision they have…it has the potential to completely transform my career.”
Her family all stared at her. Except Nshan, who kept eating.
“I don’t want to say I told you so, Ani jan, but this is what happens when you quit your stable job in law and start your own business. You have to take clients you don’t want to.”
Ani’s grip on the couch tightened, her knuckles white.
Of course her mother would say that. Anytime Ani mentioned something remotely challenging about her work, her parents reminded her, explicitly or not, that she’d walked away from the safe, prestigious path they had dreamed for her.
That she had chosen instability, stress, and, in their eyes, unnecessary hardship.
But what was the point of reminding them why she took the risk? Why she had decided to pursue a career that brought her joy instead of a more stable one? It would only lead to another exhausting debate, another round of sighs and tsks, eventually melting into passive aggression.
So she swallowed the anger rising in her throat, let it simmer under the surface, and forced her voice into something calm, measured.
“She’s a client, Mom,” Ani said carefully. “That’s all.”
Her mother squinted at her, calling her bluff. “You’re doing okay? Your heart is not…hurting?”
But Ani wouldn’t let her have it. “Yes. God. I’m fine. I can handle this.”
“Well…if you are okay with it,” her father said tentatively.
Talar shook her head at her sister. “I don’t believe the craziness of this situation, but if you think this is a career move, then damn, go for it.”
“I don’t need your blessing,” Ani said. And wanted to add, “little sister.” She didn’t like the way her family treated her like this poor soul, this fragile thing. She supposed she had been devastated—for years—because of Kami. But still. “I promise I think it’s a good move.”
“All right, all right,” Talar said. She stood up. “I’m getting more tabbouleh, anyone want?”
Nshan responded, “Me!”
Ani was driving back home, thinking that in a few hours, it would be time for Raffi’s party. Which she still hadn’t fully decided whether or not she should go to.
She needed to talk to Nareh. Maybe Nareh wouldn’t even pick up.
They were friends who saw each other twice a year or so when their friend groups aligned.
Ani really liked Nareh; she just hadn’t had the chance to get close to her yet.
Still, Nareh was always the sweetest, and Ani knew she’d be honest with her.
Screw it. She’d call. Ani used voice command to dial her friend, and Nareh picked up after a couple of rings.
“Ani! Hi!” Nareh’s voice was perky and excited.
“How’re you doing?”
“Good, good. We’re just at home, prepping some dinner.”
Ani heard another woman’s voice, deeper and slower, ask, “Is that Ani? Tell her hi.”
“Erebuni says hi.”
Ani knew about Nareh for years but didn’t say much other than “Hey” until she found out Nareh was getting married to Erebuni, another Armenian woman.
Another queer Armenian woman in her social circle?
Amazing. Ani was still a paralegal when the other two got married, but she was thinking of making the switch around that time.
In fact, it was Nar and Erebuni’s wedding that gave her the final push to quit her job and make her wedding planning dream come true.
Ani had helped them with their invitations and assisted in the day-of coordination of their lovely wedding.
She envisioned one day planning another queer Armenian wedding from the ground up but doubted it would ever happen.
She never thought she’d be planning Kami’s.
“What’s new?” Ani asked.
“Oh, you know, working and finishing up this round of fertility treatments. Feels like it’s never going to happen…”
Erebuni’s voice cut in. “It’s been so hard. But I’m still hopeful.”
“Thank God for Erebuni, honestly. There is no way I could get through this hellish process without her.”
Ani’s heart clenched. She loved what they had—it was unshakably tender—and she yearned for it. She thought she had had it with Kami, but Kami thought differently.
Still, she felt for them and could only imagine what it must be like to want to be a parent so badly but not have it happen for so long. And they really would be such wonderful parents.
“You guys are the best. Sending you all the good vibes,” Ani said.
“Thanks, jan. So, what’s up?”
The freeway was mostly empty right now as Ani sped down it. “Well, kind of funny. Uh, I’m planning this Armenian wedding and it’s going to happen at an Armenian winery.”
“Wait, wait, pause—Armenian winery? I need details,” Nareh said.
“It’s called ?. Stunning property. I’m helping do some landscaping work for them, too.”
Nareh stayed quiet on the line, most likely waiting for Ani to get to the point. “And, uh, the reason I’m calling is that ? is owned by the Garabedian family—you know, mobster-y dad. And his son…Raffi is running it. So I’ve been working with him a lot.”
“Wait. Raffi Garabedian?”
“Yep.”
Nareh’s voice grew sympathetic. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. Is he hitting on you nonstop?”
“Um, actually, not really. That’s why I wanted to call. You told me about him a few years back, and I want to confirm that it’s the same person. ’Cause he’s been, well, great. Easy to work with, hasn’t pushed any boundaries.”
Nareh did not sound convinced. “Raffi Garabedian, like blue-velvet Gucci shoes Raffi Garabedian, right?”
“The very same,” Ani said, her voice sounding shaky.
“Isn’t he a doctor?”
“He was, but I guess now he runs a winery.”
Nareh appeared to be thinking, and Ani imagined her staring up at the ceiling as she tapped her memories.
“I mean, he wasn’t the worst. He wasn’t handsy or anything, but he was just so corny.
He called me ‘reporter girl’ and said I was old-fashioned for wanting to go on a date first. He talked way too close, invaded my space, and just, like, assumed I would want to hook up with him. So arrogant.”
Raffi had asked her to lunch twice, but the first time she believed it was simply to make up for their early interactions.
The second time, well, they’d been having such a beautiful morning together, she was even borderline flirting, so it didn’t feel inappropriate.
Even when he was pretending they were a married couple, it felt fun, not gross.
And his arm around her? That had felt more than fun. It had been…exhilarating.
Ani responded, “Damn, sorry. I just wanted to remember what you had said about him. It was a while ago, right?”
“That whole thing at Explore Armenia? That must have been about five years ago. Right ’Buni?”
“Five and a half, yes,” came Erebuni’s voice.
A long time ago. Raffi had alluded to many things changing since that time, that a lot had happened. She wanted to hope.
Nareh’s words didn’t align with the Raffi Ani knew, although he’d shown hints of it here and there.
She wanted to hear from Raffi himself, how he went from that Raffi Nareh had met at Explore Armenia to the one Ani was working with now.
Though…should she? He said himself he hadn’t been in a relationship in quite some time and didn’t elaborate.
Maybe he wasn’t pushy with women anymore, but it’s possible he was still a one-night-stand man.
And Ani wasn’t about to waste her time on a man who was allergic to commitment.
Ani thanked Nareh and Erebuni, hung up, then exited to take Van Ness up to her apartment.
She needed to make a decision. Raffi’s party.
She shouldn’t go; she really shouldn’t. The prudent thing to do would be to stay home or call up Sanan or one of her other friends and go out with them here in the city.
Definitely not put on a little white dress and platform sandals and drive up to Napa. That would not be a good idea.
Right?