Chapter 6 #2
“But you don’t get me!”
“Is it your birthday yet?”
She pouted, for once facing her plea getting dismissed. Welcome to the real world, Papa had to face it too.
“Come on now, dining table, everyone. There is ras-puri-chole,” Aditi’s mother announced, breaking the stalemate. “Go wash your hands, Aara.”
As Aara and Nana went to wash their hands, Zubin did not miss the glare that his mother-in-law gave both to him and Aditi, leading them to the dinner that looked, smelled and felt delicious.
“Mummy, I did your KYC,” Zubin chimed. And her glare instantly turned into a smile.
“Finally. Someone got the time. Aditi, how long have the papers been with you?”
“I was going to do it, Mummy…”
“But I did it first.” Zubin began setting the plates, grinning as Mummy squeezed his arm and crossed into the kitchen. For-gi-ven, he mouthed to his wife. She grabbed the napkin from the back of the chair and raised it to throw it at him when they heard Aara.
The napkin fell back down on the chair.
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“Today was a close call.”
“Whew, very close.” He quietly closed their daughter’s bedroom door, looking at the glittery mess spread across their hall from her return gifts from Presha Kapoor’s birthday party. “And also, are we not telling people yet?’
“Telling people what? That I am suing your ass for divorce?” Aditi snarled, wisps of hair flying around her face.
“I love you too,” he grinned.
“You…”
“Down, down,” Zubin grabbed her hand and walked her farther away from the closed door. Aara was a light sleeper, and known to pretend to sleep when they thought she was out cold. She had the genes of a legendary actor — her father, to name the legend. Her mother did not know it yet, though.
“And you are not suing my ass. Jethmalani is suing Chandni Aunty for divorce to which she is counter-suing for alimony. We are just the messengers.”
Aditi crouched in front of the main sectional sofa and collected the pink confetti that was now practically stuck to the surface of their sofa.
They had gone for a coarser, child-proof fabric when Aara had turned one and began moving around.
Now they needed a fabric that wouldn’t gobble up any and all of her thousand glittery sparkly things and become a Barbie scrap book.
“And what is with this Presha Kapoor’s parents? They are playing tug of war with their kid or what?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I will speak to her mother… actually, leave it.” Aditi rose to her feet, her hands full. “It’s too personal a matter to ask.”
“Uh, not personal if my daughter starts thinking that divorce means extorting your parents.” Zubin slipped his hands inside his pockets.
“I have zero tolerance for mommies whining about their Laser treatments being cut down from eight to six in a year due to tight expenses from divorce. If you want to listen to that, I’ll share her contact.”
“That’s what the mommies worry about nowadays?!”
“Unless they are worrying about their content team’s expenses,” Aditi whirled on him.
“Ahaa!” Zubin snapped his fingers. “You brought the courtroom home. I win!”
“Win what?”
“You slave, I king.” He jumped on the sofa and bounced with the momentum, putting his feet up.
“Get me a Diet Coke and clean this up, slave. Then I want a massage. The courtroom was exhausting, one particular opposing counsel with her vides and My Lords was…” he yawned.
And got dumped in the mouth with plastic things.
“DOSHI!” He spat the confetti from between his lips.
“Brrrrr…” he tried to get the things off his tongue and wiped it on the sleeve of his shirt when they wouldn’t. More confetti rained on him, and he ducked, rolling along to the other side of the sectional. “I’ll have you tied and flogged for this.”
Aditi was laughing, out of fresh confetti and looking too tired to collect it again.
She rounded the sofa and collapsed on the side that he had vacated, pulling her hair out of the tie and shaking it free.
A yawn tore out of her mouth. And Zubin’s heart melted.
It was so good to share even this exhaustion with her.
He had forgotten to appreciate these tiny things with her.
He crawled across the sofa and towards her, pulling her into his side.
She came without snapping or throwing things at him, tired.
They both needed showers to wash off the long court day and the laser looks Mummy had kept drilling them with.
At this rate, he believed half of them would be burned to ash.
“Mummy looked really pissed,” he muttered.
“Who told you to go and open your big mouth there?”
“I didn’t know we were hiding it from her. Who will tell me?”
“We are not hiding…” she adjusted herself under his arm, putting her feet up. “But you know how she is with us arguing in front of Aara. This case would have ended, and we would have quietly returned to our lives.”
“With me winning, of course.”
She grinned — “You look so cute daydreaming, Bubbles.”
“Day one and such hubris. Tchk, tchk, tchk. Wait for the trial to begin.”
“Waiting,” she got into his face. “With bated breath.”
“And holding your high horse when using words like daivorce and suing my ass. The topic is already ripe in little Daru’s mind.”
She giggled, so innocent and free. “It’s been so long since you called her little Daru.”
“After Mummy read me the riot act on appropriateness,” he shuddered, “I would crave a life sentence before saying it openly again.” Zubin sighed. “Fuck, Doshi, are we too inappropriate to be parents?”
“Were,” she smiled. “A little, maybe. But we are doing a pretty good job now.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. Little Daru had me weeping at her feet with the way she approached that Barbie House argument.”
“My superior genes.”
“I am a certified cross-examination expert. You are known to work with facts.”
“Aah, so you confess that you work with fluff?”
“I work with practical solutions and wire them through emotions.”
“Fluff.” She knocked her head on his chest and made him laugh.
He pecked her head — “Yes, dear.”