43. Rohit
I rush after Miley. Since her apartment building is just across the street, I only have to dodge two taxis and a city bus careening down the road to catch up to her just in front of the entrance to her building.
“Miley! Wait!” I call to her.
She spins around, tears in her eyes, and glares at me. I stop before her, averting my gaze because I know I need to say something, but words suddenly fail me.
“Rohit,” Miley says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Listen, I am no stranger to keeping things from my family. No one knows the whole story about what happened with Harrison. But I thought this was different. I thought we were different.”
My heart rate spikes at the comparison between me and Miley’s shitty ex. I reach for Miley’s arm and she lets me take it this time.
“Miley, this is different. I love you,” I say, voice dripping with hope. Hope that she’ll hear me and understand she’s more than just some girl I work with—she’s everything. I know I love her. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life before, not even when I decided to forgo medical school to be a nurse was I this sure of my choice. My heart beats for her. It was made for her.
“I love you too, but I want a real relationship. One where you aren’t ashamed or afraid to include me in all parts of your life. Even with your family. I had hoped that’s what you’d want too,” she says, as she turns to walk away. “I guess I was wrong.”
I groan because she’s not wrong. This is what I want, but my stupidity, my inability to be honest with my parents, has ruined everything. “What about your sister’s wedding?” I ask, rubbing my hand over my beard.
Miley pauses and shrugs one shoulder. “I hope you decide that you want to be there. But only if that means you’re ready for the rest of it, too. Have a good Diwali,” she says wistfully as she pulls open the door to her apartment building and walks inside.
I’m left on the sidewalk alone. Unsure of what to do, I start walking somewhat aimlessly. Miley has made herself clear. She wants to be with me, but only if I can tell my parents about her. I love her, so why is it so hard to give her what she wants?
After a few minutes, I realize I’ve meandered to Quinn’s apartment building. I pull out my phone and text to ask if he’s home and if I can come up. He quickly answers in the affirmative.
When he opens the door to his apartment, I scan the interior for Dylan.
“She’s not here. She went to Miley’s. I assume that’s why you’re here?” Quinn shakes his head as he hands me a beer.
We sit on his sofa and I take a long sip before I explain.
“I fucked up,” I confess.
“You definitely did. But you can probably fix it. If I was able to win Dylan back, I’m pretty sure you can figure out a way to win Miley back.” Quinn gives me a lopsided smile.
“You didn’t actually do anything wrong when you and Dylan had your big fight. If you think about it, she was the one who was wrong for jumping to conclusions about you.” I eye him, knowing he’ll never admit Dylan was in the wrong.
“In the end, I don’t actually care. I’m just glad we ended up together,” Quinn replies. “Do you want to end up with Miley or not?” Quinn narrows his eyes at me.
“I do,” I answer instinctively. “Holy shit, I do. Oh fuck, I really messed things up.” I put my beer down as the realization hits me. Miley is it for me. She’s everything . I can’t believe I might lose her because I’m afraid to tell my parents. I came to grips a long time ago with the fact that I disappointed them with my career choices. As some sort of defense mechanism, I have tried not to let them down in any other ways. They have a vision for what the perfect daughter-in-law would look like, but what they don’t know yet is that the perfect daughter-in-law looks just like Miley Chen.
I’ve somehow made it through the prayer part of Diwali without losing my nerve. When my mother excuses herself to start putting out dinner, I follow her to the kitchen. I need to catch her alone since the woman they’re trying to set me up with is in the other room.
“Mom, I want to talk to you about something,” I say as I help her warm up some chole in the microwave.
“What is it, beta ?” she asks as she starts frying some bhature on the stove. The puffy, yeasty bread goes so well with the chickpea curry and my mouth is watering thinking about it, but I try to stay on task.
“Mom, I’ve met someone,” I say, just as the microwave beeps, signaling the chole is warm.
My mother freezes with her hand holding a hot bhatura in the air. “Really?”
I nod as she glances at me, curiosity in her eyes. “Tell me all about her. Where did you meet? Is it serious?”
“Her name is Miley,” I reply just as my father walks in.
“Miley Chen?” my father asks, without knowing what the conversation is about. “She’s one of my best residents. Why are you talking about her?” He scrutinizes me, and that look alone has all my upbringing coming to the surface. I will do this… for Miley, for me, for us .
“Chen?” my mother interrupts. “Rajesh, your son was just telling me he met a girl named Miley.”
My father looks between my mother and I. “Miley Chen?” he asks again.
I nod. Don’t break now, Rohit, I tell myself. “The one and only.”
“Rohit, you can’t be serious.” My mother scoffs. “Miley Chen ? She’s Asian?”
“Mom, if you haven’t noticed, we’re Asian, too.”
“ Beta , now is not the time for jokes. You know what I mean, she’s Korean ,” she says as if that word was a profanity.
“She’s Chinese, mom.” I close my eyes in frustration, so she can’t see me roll them.
“What are you even saying? How can you settle down with her? How will she understand your culture?” My mother is pacing the kitchen, waving the spatula in her hand around with every word. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious, right? There’s probably nothing finite between the two of you,” she goes on as if trying to soothe her own frantic thoughts.
Would a future with Miley Chen—a non Indian—really make her so upset? The thought of my mom’s disappointment floods through me, but I push it down. They will not define my future anymore.
“Mom, you don’t even know her! She’s smart and kind and a wonderful person.” I start pacing around the kitchen, following the trail my mom began, but why, I don’t know. “Papa, you know her! You just said she’s the best, that you like her.”
My father is still and silent as if he is afraid to stand up to my mother who is fuming.
“You can’t date someone Chinese! What will people think? Log kya kahenge? What will they say about you? About our family?” My mother pauses just long enough to take a deep breath to protest more, but I can’t hear it.
“Mom, stop. Please. I’m serious about Miley. We’re serious,” I urge, wanting nothing more than for her to understand—to accept. “I’ve met her family and they are wonderful too. I think you’d really like them.” I pause, weighing my next confession. “I love her, mom. Truly, I do. And I think you would find you do too if you gave her a chance. And honestly, even if you don’t accept her or her family, I choose her.” I exhale a shaky breath, but with it expels all my nerves. I told them. They know exactly what’s going on and how I feel.
My mother’s mouth is agape in bewilderment, and then she closes it, readying to speak, but I don’t let her.
“I’m going to her sister’s wedding tomorrow.” Where I hope to explain to her that I told you everything, so she’ll take me back . “And then, I want you to meet her. You… and Papa.”
“Rohit!” my mother exclaims as if it is the most ludicrous idea, but she bites her tongue as her friend comes to the kitchen.
“Nirmila, I was wondering if you needed any help?” Veena, my mom’s friend, pokes her head in and asks.
My mother clears her throat, regaining her composure. “Thank you, Veena Ji. I’d appreciate the help.” And then, before she can say anything else to me, I sneak out of the kitchen, tiptoe through the gathering, and leave the apartment.
I need to clear my head. I need to figure out what I’m going to say to Miley tomorrow. I need to win her back.
I am jolted awake by the sound of my phone ringing. Looking at the clock, I see it’s seven AM. My alarm was set to go off in a half hour so I could get ready for Ruby’s wedding, but I’m hopeful this is Miley finally returning one of my many messages I’ve left for her in the last twenty-four hours. But it’s not Miley. It’s my mother. I groan, answering it anyway.
“Mom, it’s early. What’s going on?” I grumble, still lying under the covers.
“It’s your sister,” she answers breathlessly.
I sit up quickly. “Is Reena okay?”
“She left here last night not feeling well, complaining of stomach pain. She hasn’t answered my phone calls but Arjun called me a little while ago, saying he’s worried about her appendix, but she won’t go to the ER.” My mother sounds on the verge of tears.
I jump out of bed and start rummaging through my drawers for some clothes.
“I’ll call her,” I say as I disconnect the call not wanting to waste another second.
Reena’s phone goes straight to voicemail. With a huff, I scroll to Arjun’s contact information and try him, but it rings through to his voicemail, too. I call both back several times as I pull on sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
Since neither is answering, I realize I have no choice but to go to Reena’s place. She lives all the way downtown, and it takes me a second to decide if an Uber or the subway will be quicker. I settle on calling an Uber as I rush down the stairs.
It takes me thirty minutes to get to Battery Park, because even at the ass-crack of dawn on a Saturday, there’s traffic in New York City. I take the stairs of Reena’s building two at a time, because I’m getting really worried and can’t wait for the elevator. She still hasn’t answered the phone.
I bang on the door to her apartment over and over, but when no one opens the door, I use the key she gave me for emergencies. After letting myself in, I instantly realize she’s not there. The place is quiet, and it feels eerily empty. Does she even live here anymore?
“Reena? Arjun?” I call out, just to be sure, then do a quick sweep of the rooms to confirm my suspicion.
Arjun . My mother said that Arjun called her. Reena must be at his place. I growl in frustration. He lives all the way in the Bronx, so I’ll need another Uber. As I run down the stairs, I call another ride. It’s going to take much longer to get to Arjun’s from where I am. By the time I get to the lobby and into the Uber, I’m sweating and frantic.
“You okay, man?” the driver asks, eyeing my disheveled state.
“Yes, fine, just hurry please,” I pant.
“Are you tweaking? I can’t have you using in my car.” The driver watches me in the rearview mirror.
“No, man, I’m fine. I just need to get to my sister’s place fast. She’s sick,” I beg.
“No cap? Sorry man, family is everything. I’ll get you there,” he says as he finally starts driving.
As soon as he turns onto the FDR, I realize we are screwed. There’s an accident that has slowed traffic down to a standstill. But there’s no way for us to maneuver to an alternate route. I look at my watch. It’s already after eight AM.
I’m never going to get to Reena, get her to the hospital, and make it to Ruby’s tea ceremony on time. She had asked me to be a runner during the ceremony and I had been so honored, but I don’t think I’m going to make it.
I try to call Miley, but her phone goes to voicemail as well.
“Damnit!” I bite, gripping my phone, and then I notice the battery percentage. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” I groan, letting my head fall back against the headrest. It’s sitting at a blaring one percent. With a sigh, I lift my phone up and watch as the screen flickers to black. How much bad luck could I have this morning?
By the time I make it to Arjun’s apartment, it’s nine AM. I use the stairs again because my heart is racing with panic. Emerging on his floor, I locate number 410 and bang on his door. It opens right away, revealing a too-calm Arjun.
“Rohit, man, what the hell?” he asks, taking in the sight of me. His eyes grow wide. “Are you okay?”
“Where’s Reena?” I urge, pushing past him to enter the apartment.
“Rohit?” Reena asks as she walks out of the bedroom. I look her up and down, assessing every notable thing with a glance. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, but she’s standing with ease, not bent over with pain or discomfort. She appears fine. I rush over to her and grab both her arms.
“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” I ask, reaching for her belly to press for any tender spots. If she’s in any pain, it would be right—
Reena swats my hand away. “What are you doing, Rohit? Stop! You’re acting crazy!”
I reach for her abdomen again, more insistently, but she steps away and I finally relent and start explaining.
“Mom called me. She said you left her place feeling sick, that it might be your appendix, and you’re refusing to go to the ER! I-I’ve been calling you,” I stammer, “but neither of you were answering. I was worried you’d get peritonitis since you were being so stubborn not going to the hospital. So, I rushed over.” I rake my hands through my hair in frustration.
“Oh, Rohit,” Reena begins, a blush creeping onto her already flushed cheeks. “I’m so sorry, we were… occupied.” Arjun walks over to her and puts his hand around her waist, giving her a quick kiss on the temple. “We weren’t purposely ignoring your calls.”
“Wait,” I begin, holding my hands up and closing my eyes to make sense of everything. “First of all, TMI sis—gross.” I hear Arjun snicker, and open my eyes to see him shaking his head at me. I ignore him. “Second of all, why would mom say you have appendicitis if you’re clearly okay?” I ask, bewildered.
Reena considers her answer. “To keep you from going to Miley’s sister’s wedding?” she wonders.
“She was really upset at how you left last night,” Arjun adds.
“Shit,” I mutter, because the pieces are coming together. My mother—who refuses to see me with anyone other than a woman of her choosing—is trying to make me look bad with Miley. “Shit,” I repeat, seething. “I need to get to Miley. What time is it?” I look around Arjun’s place but can’t find a clock.
Reena moves to grab her phone from the coffee table. “It’s nine-thirty,” she says.
“The tea ceremony is starting!”
“Tea ceremony?” Reena asks, brows furrowed.
“It’s a thing they do before the wedding ceremony. It’s a Chinese tradition. I have to get to Queens! I can’t even warn her I’m going to be late because my phone is dead!” I say, rushing to the door.
“Rohit, you need to shower, and to change into appropriate attire if you’re going to have any hope of winning Miley back,” Reena argues, chasing me to the front door. She grabs my arm, forcing me to look at her. “You aren’t going to be able to make it for the tea ceremony in time, anyway. And you don’t want to show up looking like this,” she says, gesturing at my sweats. “Go home, shower, and get ready for the wedding ceremony.” I nod, withdrawing from her grip and heading for the stairs. “And charge your damn phone!” Reena calls after me.