Chapter 9
INDIA
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Marigold clan, thank you for gathering here this lovely Friday evening.”
“You said this was important, India,” Cyrus says, looking annoyed.
Aurora squints at my shirt, a little frown creasing her brow. “Is that mine?”
“It is important,” I say, ignoring Aurora—whose shirt I am indeed wearing—and addressing Cyrus. “This is something that involves our entire family.” I beam at all of them—Cyrus, wearing his usual button-up and jeans, seated at the end of our ugly red couch. Aurora is dressed in yoga clothes and a high ponytail, and she’s now glaring at Cy from the other end of the couch, because he took her favorite spot. Juliet, meanwhile, is wearing a sun dress, her hair gleaming and perfect, and she’s making shush ing noises and patting Aurora’s leg soothingly.
“Well, get on with it, then,” Cy says. “I haven’t eaten dinner.”
“Fine. Okay. So.” I take a deep breath and then make my announcement: “There is a new member of our family that I would like to introduce you all to.”
For a second, everyone stares at me; then Juliet speaks.
“Oh my gosh, Indy,” she says, her eyes going wide, her jaw dropping comically. “Are you pregnant? ”
“ What? ” Cyrus half-shouts, his brows pulling low and severe. His head whips toward me. “You’re pregnant? ”
“Of course she’s not pregnant,” Aurora says with a scoff, frowning at Cy and Juliet. “Come on, guys.”
“In what universe would I possibly be pregnant right now?” I demand, my hands on my hips as I glare at Cyrus and Juliet. “I got a pet! There’s now an animal in our family.”
“Oooh,” Jules says; her gaze goes from alarmed to gooey and soft. “A pet? Where? What kind? What’s its name?”
“He’s a fish,” I say, reaching around the back of the TV and pulling out the little fishbowl hidden there. “And his name is Cyrus.”
Human Cyrus does not find this as funny as the rest of us do. His glasses glint in the light as he levels each of us with an unimpressed, unamused look.
“Fine, fine,” I say as our sniggers subside. “But he is a fish, and his name is Janis Joplin.”
“Janis Joplin was a woman,” Aurora says after a beat of silence.
“Yes, well,” I say primly. “They didn’t have any girl fishes. Janis would understand.”
Juliet nods her agreement. “Of course she would. Look how cute he is!” she says, jumping up from the couch as gracefully as ever, because everything she does is graceful. She leans down to look at the fishbowl in my hands. “Look at his little fishy fins! Hello!” She taps the glass gently.
“Do you guys have any bagels?” Cy asks, rising from the couch and turning toward the kitchen. “Or are there any cupcakes left?”
“I bought some blueberry bagels at the store the other day,” I say. “Cream cheese in the fridge.”
“If you ask nicely,” Aurora adds over her shoulder. She eyes the fishbowl with skepticism. “So what brought this on, Indy?”
“Juliet, where are the cupcakes?” Cyrus calls from the kitchen.
“On top of the fridge,” she calls back. Then she looks at me. “Yeah, India, why did you get this little guy? You just wanted a pet?”
I shrug. “Pretty much,” I say. “I was just thinking about…I don’t know. Things I was interested in.”
To be honest, a pet was the first item I wanted to cross off my list. I’ve wanted one for years, and somehow I just never made it happen. So it seemed like a good way to start this journey I’m taking—a simple, tangible step forward.
“And what you were interested in was fish?” Aurora says now. She joins Jules and me, bending down to look at Janis too. “Hi, little guy,” she says. Then she straightens up. “He’s a pretty color.”
“He is,” I say with a nod. “I really liked the iridescence.”
“Where’s he going to live? Your room?” Aurora says, and Juliet stands up.
“Yes, please!” she says. “Can he? Please?”
Aurora has her own room, but Juliet and I share. No one wanted to share with Aurora, and she’s happier this way too; she keeps things neater than I want to mess with, and Juliet is even messier than me.
I’m not a slob; neither is Jules. But Aurora used to run a business organizing peoples’ closets and pantries and garages. We can’t live up to that.
“I actually thought he might live on the kitchen counter,” I say. “Or on the table, like a centerpiece. Do you guys care either way?”
“I don’t,” says Aurora with a shrug. “Put him wherever you want.”
“Indy,” Cyrus says, strolling back into the living room with one cupcake in each hand, “should we be worried about you?”
I blink at him, surprised. “Worried about me?”
He nods and shoves an entire cupcake into his mouth. Aurora watches, her nose wrinkled in disgust.
“Please be civilized, Cy,” she says. “Chew your food.”
Cyrus chews the cupcake impossibly quickly; he ignores Aurora’s jibes and instead pins me with a look.
“I know you’re doing this list, or whatever,” he says gruffly, “but don’t make any huge changes just for the sake of changes. Think things through. Buying pets, dating?—”
“ Dating? ” Juliet says, her bright eyes widening. “Are you looking for a boyfriend, India?”
“What list?” Aurora adds with a little frown.
I glare at Cyrus for bringing this topic up, but he just shrugs unrepentantly and settles back down on the couch, unwrapping the second cupcake.
“I’ve never specifically been not dating,” I say, a little defensive. “It just…wasn’t happening. So I’m planning to in the future. That’s all.”
“And what’s this about a list?” Aurora asks again.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Just a list of things I want to do. A bucket list, sort of.” I try to keep the words casual, but my voice is strained.
“Huh,” Juliet says.
“Is this a midlife crisis or something?” Aurora says, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinizes me. “A quarter-life crisis?”
“Not really,” I say, hugging Janis’s fishbowl closer to my stomach. “I just had?—”
I break off, but when I see everyone’s eyes trained on me, waiting, I sigh.
“Okay. But you can’t freak out, okay?” I take a deep breath and then tell them the truth. “I got into a little scrape on Betsy the other day. And it just—made me think. That’s all.”
“You crashed?” Juliet says. Her porcelain skin has paled, and I almost smile at how concerned she looks. Jules always has big feelings, and she always expresses them to their fullest.
“I wouldn’t say I crashed,” I say. “It was sort of a swerving…scuffle…scrape. Kind of.”
“Was this a week or two ago when you stopped by my place with super dirty riding clothes?” Cyrus says, his brow furrowing. “And you were kind of wincing when you moved?”
Aurora turns to him, exasperated. “That didn’t clue you in?”
Cyrus shrugs and takes a massive bite out of his cupcake. “I asked what happened. She said she was fine,” he mumbles around the food in his mouth.
“You can’t trust India when she says she’s fine,” Aurora says, rolling her eyes. “The only person who will actually admit when something’s wrong”—Juliet’s hand shoots up, and Aurora nods at her—“is Juliet.”
“I trusted that she was handling whatever the problem was,” Cy says, swallowing the rest of his food. “I was respecting her boundaries, Rorasaurus.”
A dark cloud descends over Aurora, one that starts behind her eyes and spreads quickly to the rest of her body. “Don’t call me that, Cyborg ,” she says, her nostrils flaring.
Cyrus’s lips twitch—a rare sight that almost exclusively appears when he’s being a pain in the butt. He pushes himself off the couch, even though he’s only just sat down again. “I’m going home,” he says to me. His eyes dart carefully over me for a second; then he adds, “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say, because I know he’s asking about the motorcycle accident. “I’m good.” It’s not a lie, but I’m not sure how true it is, either.
Don’t think about it, I remind myself.
He grunts and nods. Then, jerking his chin at the fishbowl still in my arms, he says, “I’m calling him Joplin.”
I’ll take it.
The next morning is slow and uneventful; it mainly consists of lazing about, staring at Joplin while he swims little circles around his fishbowl, and plying Juliet with plenty of pep talks so she doesn’t spiral again. She’s searching high and low for another job teaching dance now that her old studio closed down, but so far she’s had no luck.
Aurora and I are secretly worried she’s going to have to find a non-dance-related job, which would break her heart.
When midday rolls around, I get a call from Sal’s informing me that Betsy is all better.
“I’ll come pick her up tonight,” I tell him, and once we’ve hung up, I turn to Joplin in his bowl. “Your sister Betsy will be home this evening,” I say, looping my crossbody bag over my head. It’s the closest I can get to wearing a purse—I always forget I have purses, and I leave them behind everywhere. “I have to go to work, but I’ll see you later.”
“What about me?” Juliet says from the other side of the table. She’s still in her silk pajamas, making her way slowly through a cup of yogurt.
“I’ll see you later too,” I say. Then I point to her head. “But you got yogurt in your hair.”
“Did I?” she says with a start, grabbing the hair hanging around her face and holding it out so she can see. “Ah, dang it. Thanks.”
“I’ll see you later. Love you!” I call; Juliet gives me a little wave, and from upstairs Aurora shouts, “Bye!”
I spend my shift bathing and grooming and generally wrestling with two nervous Labradors and one very outspoken Beagle. His howls are still ringing in my ears by the time a break rolls around, when I hide in the break room and eat my snack of a spring roll and some wontons from Dim Sum Delight over on Main.
My phone rings just as I’m finishing up my last wonton.
“Hi,” I say with a smile when I answer. “It’s been forever since we talked. You know that, right?”
“Yes,” my friend Stella says. “But in my defense?—”
“I know,” I say, rolling my eyes. But I’m still smiling as I go on, “You got married to your dream man and then moved. But did we or did we not agree that you would be living in Lucky?”
“We did,” Stella agrees. “And we’ll come back once I’m done with this program. I promise!”
“Mm-hmm,” I say skeptically. “And what does Jack think about that? He loves the hospital he transferred to, doesn’t he?”
“He’ll follow me wherever I go,” she says, and from the background, I hear an indignant male voice saying “Hey!”
Honestly, though, I don’t think she’s wrong. Her husband adores her—tried to stop loving her for years, in fact, and failed. She told me about their first kiss one time—they were pretending to be a couple, which I’ve read about but never actually seen in real life—and I made her stop talking, because the level of detail she was including made me feel like I was standing there watching them make out.
I’m beyond thrilled for her. I just miss her sometimes. And I guess I’d be lying if I said I’m not also a little jealous.
“I suppose I can support your schooling,” I say. “Far be it from me to tell you you shouldn’t angle for higher pay and a better position.”
“Thank you,” Stella says primly, and I laugh. My smile fades, though, when I glance at the clock.
“Hey, Stell, I have to go. I need to make another call and then get back to work.”
“That’s fine,” she says. “But let’s catch up soon, please.”
“We will,” I promise. I don’t even know where I would start, though, and I’m not ready to get into it. Stella is currently wearing very rose-colored glasses when it comes to all things love and relationships. She’s riding that newlywed high, and I’m not sure she’d be able to look at my situation with Felix in a realistic light.
What situation? I remind myself firmly when I realize where my brain has gone. There is no situation. It’s just…an arrangement.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I tell Stella, and we hang up. Then I call Felix.
“Aw, Sunshine,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re calling me all on your own. Admit it—you missed me.”
“I did not miss you,” I say as I throw away my plastic baggie and then return to my chair. I sigh. “As much as it pains me to admit I was wrong…I do need you after all.”
“Come again?” Felix says.
I have a sneaking suspicion he heard me just fine the first time, but I humor him anyway. “I need you,” I repeat loudly.
From the other end of the line I hear a loud, exaggerated gasp. “India, please ,” he says, sounding scandalized. “It’s way too soon for that kind of talk. Save it for later.”
“Be quiet,” I say as my lips try to curl into a smile. “I need your SUV. Betsy is ready to come home. Can we swing by later when we visit the bookstore?”
“Hmm,” he says. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?” His words are playful now. “Are you going to take me for a romantic motorcycle ride?”
“I’ll pay you one compliment of your choice,” I say. “Deal?”
“No deal. I want something edible out of this arrangement. Bring some cupcakes.”
“Excuse me,” I say. “According to our original deal, you’re supposed to be the one providing snacks—which I have yet to see any of, by the way.” I pause. “Cyrus finished all the cupcakes anyway.”
Under his breath he calls Cyrus a name that does not bear repeating. “Fine,” he says then. “I will bring food. In return for using me for my car, you can answer one question of my choice, completely honestly, and I’ll call it even. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Then, without giving me a chance to respond or protest, he hangs up. Three seconds later, my phone buzzes with a new message.
Felix
How does it feel to have someone hang up without warning?
Me
Lovely. A breath of fresh air.
Felix
Don’t lie to me. You’re heartbroken.
Me
You wish, Felicia. I’ll see you tonight. I reserve the right to tell you to pick a different question if I don’t like the one you ask.
Felix
Fine. Just promise me one thing…
Me
Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.
Felix
Promise you won’t fall in love with me.
Me
Aaaaand I’m out.
Felix
India?
India??
SUNSHINE?
I watch the messages come in, but I don’t answer; I just smirk and then get back to work.