23. Rohit
I ’m just entering the tennis academy when my phone pings. I look down to see a message from Reena.
REENA
He popped the question!
I got engaged!
She promptly sends a photo of her hand adorned with an enormous diamond ring.
Thank God I got my nails done
I shake my head and smile. Having a twin sister means I’m used to the way her female mind works.
Congratulations! I like Arjun, he’s a good guy
I’ll take you guys out to dinner tonight
Moti Mahel, 6 PM
I’m really happy for you, Reena
Also, Mom will be thrilled
The smile falls from my face when I realize now I’ll be the sole focus of my mother’s matrimony pitches. I shake off the uncomfortable feeling and turn my attention to tennis.
I find David in the fitness area. We go through our usual workout together, making small talk about the charity tournament taking place tomorrow. The Impact Tennis Foundation’s annual tennis fundraiser is a fun event, where each mega donor teams up with a coach, and we play a round-robin doubles tournament.
When I explained the tournament to Miley, she understood immediately. “It’s like Dancing with the Stars, for tennis,” she said.
After the doubles tournament, there’s an exhibition match where two pros play against each other. This year, I will challenge none other than the great David Marquez.
David re-racks his weights and asks me who I am paired with.
“Charlie Liu, but he’s never played in the tournament before,” I say between long sips of water.
“How’d you get paired with a newbie?” David sounds incredulous. Usually, veteran coaches like myself are paired with players who have donated to the foundation annually.
I look down at David, who is lying on his back doing sit-ups. “Well, I know him. He’s my friend Miley’s future brother-in-law.”
David stops mid-air, holding a crunch position. Show off.
“This is the same friend you went out with a few weeks ago, no?” David raises his eyebrow at me as he continues his workout.
“Yes…” I notice David’s knowing smirk. “But that doesn’t mean anything. We’re friends. She’s going to come watch the tournament with her sister, since Charlie is playing.” I turn away from David and pick up some weights, eager to do something with my hands.
“The sister is coming to watch her fiancé, Charlie. But who is Miley coming to watch?” David wiggles both eyebrows suggestively while giving me a smug smile.
I don’t dignify David with an answer, but my mind wanders as I work through a few sets of bicep curls. It has been a long time since I played tennis in front of a girl I’m crushing on. Not that I could ever do anything about my crush. Miley is not interested in a relationship and she’s made that very clear. The truth is, I don’t know that I really want a relationship either. And I haven’t ever had a friends-with-benefits situation end well for me, so I’m not even going to try.
“Earth to Rohit! You’ve done like sixty bicep curls in a row. What’s going on?” David’s concerned voice breaks through my thoughts.
I fake a laugh and put my weights down. “Nothing man, just not paying attention today. Would you look at that? It’s time to go teach the kids. Do you want to do the honors of telling them the good news?” I ask, trying to get my mind off of Miley and back on to safer topics.
“You know it!” David says enthusiastically as we race up the stairs to the tennis courts.
When we reach the courts, the kids are already running a lap to warm up. I love these kids. They hustle and are hungry for success, and those are traits you can’t teach.
David claps his hands to get their attention.
“Huddle up!” David commands, and the kids quickly assemble in front of us. “We have some exciting news. You have all been selected to do an exhibition before the charity tournament tomorrow.”
The kids peer at David expectantly, not understanding what is being asked of them.
I can’t help chiming in. “Coach David and I will lead you through a series of drills for approximately ten minutes so you can demonstrate your skills for the donors. We want to prove how much their donations mean to us by showing them your love of tennis and your passion for honing your talent.”
The kids nod their understanding. For the next hour, we practice the drills that will be demonstrated tomorrow before the tournament. By the end of class, David and I are confident the kids will impress the donors.
It’s now David’s and my turn to practice. We play together all the time, but with an exhibition match, it’s always fun to be able to throw in a trick shot or two so the audience stays engaged. After a few sets, my phone rings, breaking the peace of our tennis rhythm.
“That’s my mom,” I say sheepishly at her assigned ringtone and run to the bench to silence the Bollywood tune.
“It’s cool. Talk to your mom. I’ll see you tomorrow.” David smiles and waves. The one thing he’d never mock me about is my mother, since he’s the biggest mama's boy there is. His mother sends him huge care packages from Spain that light his face up like a Christmas tree.
I sit on the bench and pull out my phone, realizing it’s a video call.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, wiping sweat from my face as I answer.
“ Beta , you’re so sweaty.” My mom has always been excellent at stating the obvious.
“Yeah, but you look good enough for the both of us,” I say with a smile. My mother has on her usual full face of makeup and her hair is neat in a low bun. That’s all I can see, because she holds the camera so close to her face.
“Rohit, stop trying to charm me,” my mother scolds. “You heard the good news?”
“McDonald’s is bringing back the Biscoff McFlurry?” I joke, knowing full well what my mother is calling about.
“Rohit, you fool. Reena got engaged.” My mother rolls her eyes and the phone shakes a little, likely from her seething frustration.
“Yes Mom, it’s great,” I say cautiously, as I take a sip of water. I know what’s coming next.
“So the engagement party will be early next year. We don’t want to do it so soon because we need four, five months to plan. You’ll dance?”
My mother pretends this is a question, but it is not.
“Of course, Mom, whatever you need,” I reply automatically.
“What I need is for you to get serious about settling down as well.” Her voice is harsh. “I have some wonderful girls to introduce you to if you finally come out with me to one of my events.” Her eyes narrow in frustration.
“Mom, I’ve told you I’m not interested. I don’t like being introduced to your friends’ daughters who assume I’m a doctor and are disappointed when I’m not.” I have never really been so direct with my mother, but every time this comes up, my resolve to be tactful wears away slowly.
“Well, whose fault is that? You chose not to go to medical school,” she huffs. “Such a tall, handsome boy, now being a nurse and a tennis coach, after everything we’ve done for you.”
I look around the empty courts, desperate for a way to get out of this conversation. They don’t approve of my career choices. I’m just not a textbook child of Indian immigrants, and not someone they can brag about to their friends. Even though I’m a grown man with two jobs. I make more than enough to support myself, invest, and save for the future, but I feel about 4 inches tall when I have these conversations with my parents. The biggest irony is, I’m six feet taller than that.
“Mom, I love you. I’m happy. I hope you can be happy for Reena and also for me, for where I am in my life right now.” I pause, watching her nose wrinkle in annoyance. “Listen, I’m really sweaty, and I need to shower. I will call you later.” I wait for a second to see her nod slightly, so I know I’m not just hanging up on her, and then end the call.
I take a few deep breaths and return to the locker room to wash off the sweat from the day, and hopefully some of the stress from the phone call. Deep down, though, I know the bigger conversation with my parents about my relationship status is really just beginning.
There’s no time to dwell on it, though, because I don’t want to be late to dinner with Reena and Arjun. After being raised with parents who were chronically late to every social gathering—“Indian Standard Time,” they called it—Reena and I have lived our lives in a complete 180, being five minutes early to everything.
I rush crosstown to get to Moti Mahel Delux, and I make sure to give the host my credit card and instructions that under no uncertain terms is anyone else supposed to pay for this meal. That’s another thing about Indian families when they go out to eat; everyone is fighting to pay the bill. But this is my treat to Reena and Arjun to celebrate their engagement. I’ve learned the easiest way to handle the situation is to get there early and talk to the host directly.
As soon as the host has given me a knowing smile and pocketed my credit card, Reena rushes through the door with Arjun on her heels.
“You beat us, damn it,” she huffs.
I smirk smugly. Undoubtedly, she was trying to use my trick.
“You snooze, you lose,” I say as I give her a big hug. “Congratulations!” I turn to Arjun and hug him as well.
The host interrupts to let us know our table is ready. We follow her, and once we are seated, the server materializes to take our drink order. Arjun and I opt for Kingfisher beers, since this is an Indian restaurant. Reena makes a face, because she thinks all beer is gross, and orders a Diet Coke.
“Can we order a bunch of things and share?” Reena asks needlessly, because that’s how we always do it.
“I just came from tennis so I’m starving,” I reply as I look over the menu. Also needlessly, since this has been our favorite spot in recent years.
“How’s that going?” Arjun asks, as he shuts the menu. He knows that Reena and I will just take care of the ordering.
“Good! We have a charity tournament coming up, so it’s keeping me busy,” I reply, flagging the server over so we can order.
“ Golgappa shots, chicken 65, aloo tiki to start,” Reena says definitively. She then looks at me.
“ Chana masala , murgh makhani , and mutton curry for mains, with goat biryani,” I continue. Some people may shy away from mutton and goat, but not our family. When prepared properly, they are delicious. And murgh makhani , or butter chicken, is a classic that cannot be missed.
“Maybe two onion kulcha ?” Reena looks to Arjun who nods the affirmative. I smile. I love ripping the hot bread and using it to scoop up the flavorful curries. My family has always taught us the traditional ways to enjoy foods.
“Perfect,” I say with a sigh. I’m always so comforted by these traditional dishes.
As the appetizers appear, I ask Reena if they’ve set a date for the wedding.
“You know our families, it’s going to be some big production and negotiation between both sides.” Reena sighs. “Mom is already talking about an engagement party in January or February. That’s five months away!” She takes one of the g olgappa shots and pulls the pastry shell out of the glass. She knocks back the tamarind chutney mocktail like it’s a shot of whiskey to drown her sorrows.
“At least she’s happy,” I grumble. “You two are now the perfect Indian children, settling down at the right age, and with people your families approve of.”
“I know our parents introduced us, Rohit, but I love your sister,” Arjun chimes in with a look of concern on his face.
“Of course I know you guys are happy. It’s just the whole situation. My mom is going to be even more on my case now, and it’s only going to get worse. No one she introduces me to is going to like that I’m a nurse. It’s just not a career that traditional Indian families would want for a son-in-law. And I don’t like having to explain my choices or defend myself.” I sigh as I take a big bite of the crispy chicken appetizer.
Reena smiles sympathetically. She knows I’m speaking the truth, but she can’t help trying to mollify me. “Mom and Papa love you, you know that. Their love isn’t conditional.” She reaches her hand across the table to pat mine.
“Their love isn’t conditional, but their approval is,” I grumble.
“Are you seeing anyone? That girl from the gala?” Reena’s eyebrow quirks up.
I shake my head. “I was just doing a favor for a friend, so she wouldn’t have to go alone.”
I reach for the aloo tiki , eager for India’s answer to hash browns, drizzled with savory and sweet chutneys, but only to find that Arjun has already secretly demolished them all. I jokingly wonder how I’m going to fight him for food for the rest of our lives.
The server comes to take away the empty plates. I take a long swig of beer.
Reena won’t let the topic of Miley go, but her voice is gentle as she goes on. “It’s okay if you are seeing her, you know. You can be honest with me.”
I shake my head again. “I know I can be honest with you, Reena, but I’m not seeing her. I was just doing her a favor. And I’m taking her to her sister’s wedding so she doesn’t have to deal with some jerk ex-boyfriend all night.”
Arjun’s eyebrows raise, and he bites back a smile.
“Shut up,” I say, pointing my empty beer bottle at him.
“I didn’t say anything!” Arjun cries. “I never say anything! I love your family because I never have to talk, or make decisions, I can just go with the flow.”
Reena smacks him and we all laugh.
“Oh look, the food’s here!” Arjun deflects, and we all joke and enjoy our meal together. I’ve always been close to my twin sister, but I’m glad to grow my family and include Arjun as a brother.