Chapter 11
“Mine’s dying out!” Eshaan laughed, twirling his sparkler around the top of Charu’s head as the light fizzled to smoke.
“Hey!” Charu swatted his hand away, giggling, while her own sparkler made figure-eights in front of her. She paused to take a sip of her sharbat and caught Jia’s eye. “Jia! Join us.”
“I’m good,” Jia said. She was leaning against the backyard door, watching the #CheshaanProject come to life before her eyes.
“So, Charu,” Eshaan said, as he lit another sparkler and grinned at Jia, who grinned back, “I read up on that Human Design thing you told me about. I’m a Projector, apparently. What does that mean?”
Charu dove into a full explanation of Human Design, which was the new-wave astrological concept she’d talked about on her first day at Mimosa. Jia nodded to herself. Eshaan was showing interest in Charu’s interests. That was such a good sign, especially after their talk.
“Jia, here,” Eshaan said, handing her a lit sparkler, and she finally joined them. “What’s your Human Design? When’s your birthday?”
“April eleventh,” Jia answered. She played with the sparkler, making random shapes in the air. Her throat tightened, and she tugged on the choker necklace as a memory came to mind—Mamma’s final Diwali, a few weeks before she passed away. The chemotherapy had drained her of energy, but Diwali was her favorite festival, second only to Holi. Jia, Tanu, Jaiman, and Papa had spent that whole night bursting smokeless crackers in the backyard as Mamma cheered from the swing, twirling her own sparkler around in the air. She was in so much pain, none of which she deserved, but for those few hours of quiet celebration, she seemed more full of life than she’d been in months. Nothing had mattered to Mamma more than family, not even her career.
Would Mamma have approved of the #CheshaanProject? She would have, wouldn’t she? She was also once a romantic. Jia’s eyes misted. Mamma never got to attend Tanu’s wedding, or even meet Anshuman. She’d have loved him. Andshe’ll never get to see me fall in love, either, Jia thought numbly. Which was fine, really. Maybe Jia’s purpose in this world wasn’t to find love, but to help others find it. No matter how much she sometimes wanted what Tanu and Anshuman shared, what Papa and Mamma had until it was stolen from them—
She handed the sparkler to Charu and wiped her eyes. “I’ll be right back.” She pulled up the folds of her saree and headed inside. Movement from the corner of her eye told her someone with messy hair was walking in the direction of the backyard—Manoj?—and she turned back around, ready to fight for the #CheshaanProject, but someone tugged on her arm. Judging by the citrusy scent of his cologne, it was Jaiman.
“Hey.” His brows were furrowed. “Are you okay?”
She folded her arms and glared at him, their fight from earlier still fresh in her mind. “Do you care?”
Jaiman’s eyes softened, and he squeezed her arm once before letting go. “Of course I do. What’s wrong?”
“Just…” She walked up and sat in the middle of the staircase, and he joined her. “I guess I just really miss Mamma.”
Jaiman bowed his head. His knee nudged hers, sending shivers all the way down to the base of her spine. “I miss her too,” he admitted. “I know she’s not my mom. I know I already have a mom. But Amrita Auntie was like family to me. She’ll always be.”
“I know,” Jia said, chewing on her lower lip. She hesitated, wondering if she should quell the memory, then asked, “Do you remember the summer after she died? Papa finally mustered the courage to clear out her stuff and donate her clothes like she’d asked him to?”
“I remember.” He smiled ruefully. “You took them to the thrift store yourself. Why didn’t you keep them? You loved her sense of style.”
Jia inhaled shakily, trying to hold back her tears. “I did it so there’d be traces of her all around the city. Even now, when I’m driving around town, I sometimes catch a glimpse of vintage Prada boots, or a decade-old Gucci bag, and it reminds me of her.”
Jaiman put his arm around her. His touch was tentative, warm, comforting. It almost felt like Mamma’s hugs. Almost. Jia started to brush a tear sliding down her cheek, but Jaiman got there first. His fingers lingered for a second before he withdrew them. “Don’t do that,” she said, ignoring the fluttering in her belly, knowing it would amount to nothing. “You’ll ruin my makeup.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Want me to get you some sweets?”
That was when Jia realized her stomach had been grumbling for well over an hour. She had spent so much time trying to make the #CheshaanProject happen that she hadn’t had a bite of food since lunch. “Yeah,” she said, brightening at the thought of Yadav bhaiyya’s jalebis, samosas, and sharbat. “I’ll get myself some—”
“You sit tight.” Jaiman gently pushed her back as she started to stand up. “I’ll grab you a plate.”
“Okay,” she said. She sat there for a minute or so, observing the crowd of people, young and old, children and adults alike, the living room bustling with nearly fifty people. The house hadn’t felt so alive since Mamma had passed.
And yet, Papa—who stood with Tanu and Anshuman and some friends from the banks he worked with—was slouched and hunched over, his eyes droopy, frown lines etched on his face. Jia shook her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have forced him into this; they could have hosted the party elsewhere.
As she had that thought, Manoj emerged from the backyard, Charu next to him, and Jia’s eyebrows shot up. No. No, no, no. Not now. Not when Eshaan was actually starting to see Charu in a romantic light.
Charu found her among the crowd just as Jia stood, thoughts of Jaiman and snacks forgotten. “Hey,” Charu said, tucking some hair behind her ear, her cheeks pink. “I’m going to head home.”
“Where’s Eshaan?” Jia asked.
“He’s talking with some friends from his golf club.” Charu fidgeted, her fingers tightening around the gift Eshaan had given her. “Can you drive me home? There aren’t any Ubers available.”
“Of course,” Jia said.
Jia said bye to Papa and got into her Mercedes. Once they were both strapped in and Charu had put her address into Google Maps, Jia started the engine. “So did you have a nice time tonight?” she asked as she stopped at a red light almost right away. Good old night-time traffic.
“I did, yes.” Charu cleared her throat. “It’s funny, I only got here a few weeks ago, and I’ve already met so many great people.”
“Like Eshaan?” Jia said, a smile on her lips. “He’s so great, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” She fiddled with her dupatta, the yellow such a pleasant contrast against her dark complexion. “Jia, something happened at the party. Actually…two somethings happened.”
Jia hit the accelerator as the signal turned green and grinned wider. “You mean with Eshaan?”
“And Manoj,” Charu blurted. “They, um, both asked me out.”
It was a lucky thing the car ahead of them was a good distance away, otherwise Jia would have slammed right into it. “What?” she exclaimed. The color drained from her face; she caught a peek of herself in the rearview mirror. Eshaan asking Charu out made sense after his talk with Jia, but Manoj? Jia had underestimated him. “When did this happen?”
“After you left, Eshaan asked me if I wanted to grab coffee with him sometime after work. Before I could reply, Manoj came in and asked to speak with me privately.”
“How did Manoj even find you?”
“Oh, Jaiman told him where I was.”
Of course he did. Jia tried not to roll her eyes. “And then?”
“Eshaan said we’d talk at the office and then went to find his golfing buddies. And Manoj…”
“Go on,” Jia urged, holding back a scream. This couldn’t be happening. Fuck.
“Manoj told me to check my phone,” Charu said. “He’d sent me a video on WhatsApp.”
“A video?” Jia stopped at yet another traffic signal, her hands tightening around the steering wheel, as Charu opened the video on her phone and showed her.
“Hi,” Manoj said, facing the camera, guitar held in a trembling hand. “Charu, this one’s for you.” He sang a few verses of a love song about wanting to “be somebody to someone” and then finished with, “Charu, I’ve really liked getting to know you, and I’m hoping you feel the same way. So, um, will you go out with me?” And then he stood up and fumbled with the camera until the screen blacked out.
“Oh,” Jia said. Her mind went blank as she joined the other cars in driving ahead once more. What the hell?
Charu wrung her hands together and sighed. “I didn’t know what to tell him, especially after Eshaan also— Jia, I know you think Eshaan is a good match for me, and he really is so sweet. But Manoj makes me feel…I—I don’t know.” Jia caught her shrugging out of the corner of her eye. “In any case, I thought I should ask you first. You’re so smart about relationships, and I know you’re helping me for your column.”
A sigh of relief escaped Jia’s lips. Thank goodness. I can still fix this.“Well, you already know how I feel,” Jia said. “You and Eshaan have similar values. You’re in the same place in life. You want the same things.”
“So you don’t think Manoj does?” Charu shifted in place, trying to loosen the seat belt.
Jia shook her head, her gaze straight ahead on the road as she maneuvered through moving traffic. “Manoj is a lot younger than you.” When Charu mumbled in agreement, she went on. “He’s still in grad school. He doesn’t have his life figured out the way you and Eshaan do, and he’s not going to get there anytime soon. He’s not ready.”
Charu exhaled. “That’s a good point. But I feel something for Manoj that’s more…butterflies than what I have with Eshaan. Aren’t butterflies good?”
“Butterflies aren’t all that matter.” Jia braked at the next signal and gave Charu’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You can figure this out, Charu.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to do. I’m the astrology expert at Mimosa, not the dating expert. That’s you, Jia. You know what to do.”
“Well, you know what I think?” Jia said, and Charu turned to her, her body springing to attention. “I think you should only date someone if you’re sure you’re a good match. Because if you have any hesitations, or nervous butterflies, that’s your gut telling you something’s wrong.”
“Huh.” Charu tugged on the seat belt again. “I never thought about it that way.”
“And if you say yes now, but change your mind tomorrow when Manoj admits he’s not as ready for marriage as you are,” Jia prodded, “it’d break both of your hearts, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess Eshaan did ask me out first, and I feel like we have more in common than Manoj and I do. But there aren’t any butterflies when I look at Eshaan.”
Jia parked in front of Charu’s place and turned to her. “I think feeling safe and comfortable in your partner’s presence is more important than chasing after butterflies. Don’t you agree?”
Slowly, Charu undid her seat belt. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll say no to Manoj. It’s the right thing to do. It is…right?” Maybe she was thinking about her ex, the one who hadn’t been ready for marriage. The one who still made Charu emotional, despite years having gone by. Jia wouldn’t let Charu make the wrong choice again. Dating Manoj would only make history repeat itself.
“It’s the right thing to do,” Jia agreed, reaching forward to hug her. Charu hugged her back, a small sob escaping her mouth. Jia gripped her tighter, knowing how she felt. It was hard to know you were going to break someone’s heart. But it was far, far better than settling for someone who was not right for you.