Chapter Eight
Eight
Sunny
Showering post-travel had to be one of the best feelings in the world, and much needed. Airports and long flights, germs, recycled air, disgusting restrooms…how could anyone love traveling?
I left most everything in my suitcase for now but hung up my suit. Considering how hot and humid it’d been already, I wasn’t sure how any of us would survive wearing a suit for the wedding. Weren’t Hawaiian destination weddings all about beaches and relaxed styles? Because April didn’t want to risk bad weather or wind, the wedding and reception were in a large indoor room—with AC, thank god—that opened up to the gardens and ocean beyond. Half and half. Still, it would be a miracle if we didn’t have pit stains.
Sam was the first to get married in our friends’ circle and he was already setting the bar high for the rest of us. I imagined Aamar would cave to familial and cultural expectations to have a big desi wedding back home. Which sounded great to me. A long drive to a nice venue maybe; no planes. Plus, Indian weddings were amazing with all the food and dances as long as one was a guest and not the stressed-out couple. Not that I even had a girlfriend, much less a fiancée, but all I knew was that I wanted a small wedding and not all dozen events and traditions that came with an Indian wedding. If marriage was an option. But that was a big if.
Bane had clothes all over the place, strewn over the bed and floor. How did she live like this? She also had a nice view of the ocean from this room, mirroring the glass sliding doors from the living room. Must be nice to be able to vacation like this, which was another reason why I needed to get that promotion for PM. I was a great lead, but I knew I could be an effective PM. Besides, coding into the night was grating down my soul. It was one of the reasons why Sejal had left me. I didn’t spend enough time on her. I didn’t sleep the entire night in bed with her. I was too focused on work and getting to where I needed to be. Which was ironic because she wanted me to make more money but didn’t like the amount of work I had to do to get there.
If only she’d stayed around for another year. She would’ve seen that I made lead dev, which was a bump in pay. And hopefully in a few weeks, I’d land that PM position to bump my pay even more. We weren’t talking about a few extra dollars an hour, either. Enough to finally offer a sizable down payment for Seattle’s expensive housing market. Enough to help my parents substantially with medical bills and mortgage, and to spoil my sisters. That was what I really wanted.
After a shower, I found Bane lounging on the back patio, a yellow book on the table beside her paired with water. For a second, I thought she was taking a break from reading to enjoy the spectacular view. But no. She was on her laptop working.
I leaned against the opened sliding door and folded my arms across my chest. “I’m pretty sure Gabrielle forbade you from working.”
Bane jumped, then let out an exasperated breath, returning to work. “She doesn’t own me.”
“She’s going to figure out you’re logging in and lock you out. Then what?”
“Then I’ll be forced to have a true vacation.”
“Why don’t you go to the beach or swim or golf or see waterfalls?”
“And get eaten alive by bloodthirsty mosquitos? These repellant candles are the only things standing between me and a swarm of vampiric bugs.”
“I haven’t been bitten once.”
“You’ve been here all of three hours. Just wait until twilight, dawn, or when you’re near a fruit tree. That’s what they love. Lure you with the beauty of nature and then bam! Stick their little gross oscillating teeth into your flesh and drive you mad with itching. These mosquitos aren’t like Washington mosquitos. Like most insects in Hawaii, they’re huge. Monsters, really.”
“Arbitrary excuses.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I’m heading out. Should I…text you when I’m on my way back?”
“Sure. Probably a good idea to have each other’s contact information since we’re dating .”
We exchanged numbers and I took the extra key card on the counter. But who was I kidding about not working on vacation? I planned on checking Jira for updated scrum boards, roadmaps, and repositories for DevOps the second I had extra time.
I guessed that the golf carts weren’t actually meant to cater guests to and from the many hotel buildings but were actually meant for use on the golf course. No matter, the walk back to the main building and the lobby of my actual hotel section was pleasant. This layout was a little confusing—this entire gigantic acreage was owned by one hotel chain, but had three different types of hotels/subnames, all separate, the next more elaborate than the last. Queen’s Land (the least expensive but still pricey), King’s Land (where the wedding party was staying and very nice), and the Homestead (sounded the cheapest but was the most expensive with entire villas to rent).
The walk was pleasant, full of fresh air and scenery of clear blue sky, sparkling ocean, gigantic palms and coconut trees, and endless flowering shrubs. Hot, but beautiful. An ocean breeze cut through the heat, making the walk across the golf course bearable.
April was the first of our small group to spot me walking through one of the hotel’s many restaurants. She greeted me with a hug and then patted my face like my mother often did as if gesturing, Poor baby .
I knew what that meant; we all did. “I’m good. Seriously. Let’s just focus on you and the stressed-out groom.”
“Why is he even stressed? I should be the one stressed.”
“As you’ve said: As long as the dress arrives safely and you get plenty of sleep, it’ll be perfect.”
“Then I guess half of perfection can be counted on thus far. Honestly…are you…” April eyed Sejal.
“She’s your bridesmaid. I get it.”
“She’s not awful, you know?”
I didn’t comment. Having to tell someone a person wasn’t awful was often an indictment in itself.
“She had a difficult time after the breakup.”
Because I hadn’t? Sejal’s words of how inadequate I was lingered around my aura like a dark cloud sending jolts of lightning. Unlike Sejal, I didn’t expel all my heartache and issues and emotions into our friend group. It was easy to conclude that she’d suffered more, or that I, as she’d told me so many times, was part robot and emotions weren’t in my vocabulary.
Of course, Sejal was wrong. Even if I’d expressed myself, she would’ve been quick to either dismiss me or say something along the lines of, “Where were these feelings before?”
I knew what she’d said about me. Everyone did. She’d told April and Maya, and they’d told Sam and Aamar, who’d then mentioned it to me. She’d cried for weeks over how much time she’d dedicated to us, how hard she’d worked on me, how I was never enough, how I’d never treated her like a queen on a pedestal, and how I was a hapless, hopeless, emotionless workaholic better suited for glaring at coding than being present in any relationship.
The transparency Sejal had maintained through the entire breakup and afterward, and the lack of rebuttal from me, made the entire situation one-sided and in her favor. It had almost created a rift between the guys and the women, until Sam and Aamar reminded April and Maya how I was the least destructive, least toxic person ever. Not to mention quiet as hell. I didn’t think our breakup was anything to shout about, to discuss, to cause tension, or to get people to pity me or stand on my side. Even when Sejal had done it. Even when it appeared that she’d succeeded in turning everyone against me, including family.
As usual, I didn’t make a remark on the ongoing conversation revolving around us. Instead, I said, “This is all about you and Sam. We’re going to have a great time.”
She beamed and nodded, as if she needed confirmation that I wasn’t going to—what—make a scene? “Oh! I heard you brought a special friend.” This, she said loudly, a call to arms for others to descend on the topic.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Maya asked.
“How could you keep that to yourself?” Aamar said.
“A new relationship,” I replied. “Please don’t make this a big deal. She…keeps to herself.”
Sejal eyed me as she sipped her drink from across the veranda dinner table. Sejal could see through my BS, but I hoped my “robotic emotions” worked in my favor.
“She’s really nice,” Aamar told Maya.
“And cute,” April said, shaking her shoulders. Sam had obviously told her, because there were no pictures of Bane to show. “Why didn’t she join us?”
“I thought this was just for us,” I replied, glaring at Sejal instead of the new boyfriend at her side.
Tension slowly built between us. She wanted to say something, wanted to start something. As she opened her mouth, I grinned at Sam and April and made a toast.
Despite my ex sitting across from me with piercing incredulity at my suddenly having a girlfriend, we enjoyed food, drinks, desserts, and views while catching up late into the torch fire–lit evening. About two hours later, April stood with a lingering graze across Sam’s shoulders, mischief in her eyes. Maya and Sejal joined her and off they went for a bachelorette party. Sejal kissed her boyfriend, and he went on his own (despite being invited by Sam), while Sam, Aamar, and I headed for the bachelor party.
This island didn’t have any cities, much less a big nightlife scene. But there was a shitload of drinking.
I’d gotten back late. My friends must’ve mistaken our late twenties for our early college days when we could drink until 3 a.m. and be okay the next day. After many fumbling attempts with the key card, I crept into a very dark villa. I flipped on the kitchen light, noticing that both bedroom doors were closed. Pillows and blankets had been set on the couch.
I crashed. If the guys were expecting me to keep this up all trip long, they might as well leave me poolside with a lemonade. My throat ached and my head was on its way to pounding.
My eyes clasped shut, dreams may or may not have come, but the next thing I knew, the shrill sound of a blender and clanking pans and silverware had me awake and clutching the blanket over my head. This must be the generous, albeit early-riser, sister. She eventually went on her way, and I fell back asleep, waking up to nothing. No alarm, no texts, no calls, no impending meetings, just a clean, sunlight-filled room.
I looked up at the wide bamboo fan blades that matched the wicker furniture. My head felt like someone had tried to crush it and failed. In spite of a mild hangover, this finally felt like a vacation. For the first time in a long time. Not days off to visit family or nearby places or tightly packed itineraries through scenic destinations, but a vacation. Rest. Relaxation.
My mind drifted toward three things: family, work, and the urgent need to piss.
I texted my sisters to make sure Papa was okay, that he hadn’t relapsed. They gave me a text full of enjoying my time without worrying over him; he was fine.
I used the bathroom next to the second bedroom instead of knocking on Bane’s door. On the way back out, I stood at her door anyway and scratched my forehead. Well, shit. I needed to get in there for my luggage.
After several knocks, each louder than the last, I announced, “I’m opening the door.”
She wasn’t in the room. I took the opportunity to take a quick shower.
Tugging my shirt over my head and walking out of the bedroom afterward, I saw her.
Bane was sitting on a lounge chair, in the shade, reading that yellow book, her back to the sliding doors and to me, but far enough from the villa that she couldn’t have heard me.
I should probably talk to her. At least say hello.
I pushed aside the glass door. She didn’t budge. I stood over her. Her legs were stretched out on the lounge chair. She was wearing long shorts and a T-shirt, hair in a bun. Very much unlike my friends last night, who’d been all dressed up in flowing dresses, or like a lot of women in passing wearing dresses and floppy hats, as if visiting the islands mandated looking extra nice. But Bane was… Bane .
“Hey.”
“Hi,” she purred.
“Sorry, I forgot to text you last night that I’d probably be getting in late.”
She flipped the page to her book. “Don’t be. Your competition wasn’t.”
“Wait. What?”
She didn’t bother looking up. “I come here several times a year. You think I don’t have friends with benefits on island? Not wasting my time waiting around on you.”
What the hell was she talking about? “Oh. Uh…good.”
I didn’t expect Bane to wait around for me, but I’d genuinely felt bad. Of course, my mouth didn’t know how to formulate those words to tell her so. But she seemed fine. We weren’t a couple. I shouldn’t feel bad, and she shouldn’t be upset. And I definitely should not feel any tinge of jealousy, yet…
“The fuck. How many benefits you got here, Bane?”
She peered up at me from over her sunglasses. “Language.”
“Pardon me.”
She pushed up her shades as if she’d resumed reading that yellow book with two Indian characters on the cover, arms crossed, side-eyeing each other. They were essentially us half the time.
“How many guys do I need to watch out for?” My words came out sharper than I’d intended.
“Why would you care?”
“I don’t care. But if we’re acting in front of my friends, it would be nice to know how many guys might interrupt us by sweeping you away with a kiss.”
Her lips twitched. She wanted to smile and was holding back.
I clarified, “I’m not asking because I’m jealous. Just curious.”
Her lips curled at the corners.
“Don’t tell me.” I turned to walk away but came back. “Are they in this area?”
“Don’t worry,” she finally said. “They’re discreet. But if I have to suddenly leave, then you’ll know why.”
Don’t suddenly leave then , I wanted to tell her.
“Is that an issue?” she asked.
“No. Good to know so I won’t be caught off guard if some guy steals you away. Just try not to do it in front of everyone. My friends might have fallen for this ruse, but they’re not going to believe we have an open relationship.”
She pursed her lips. “Don’t run off with my man-whores in public. Got it.”
I groaned. “Okay. Now that that’s settled—”
“You can’t run off with anyone, either. To be fair.”
“Who am I going to run off with?”
“A certain ex. Unless you want to?” Her tone went up on that last word, baiting me for information that I didn’t want to give. Circumventing our rules.
“You have nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about anything. I’d just like a heads-up. Should I find out and be theatrically upset or just disappear when it happens? How do you want to play that?”
“I’m not telling you what happened with us.”
“Should I be friendly toward her or cold? A real girlfriend would know the story. And if she didn’t, it would be an obvious point of quarreling between the couple. How should I respond?”
“Try as you may, Bane, you won’t get the details of my past relationship. Per the rules that you agreed to.”
She pouted. “And here I thought I’d get to act out all my dramatic girlfriend fantasies.”
“Not exactly what I’d consider a fantasy.”
Bane tilted her chin into the morning sun. “What do you consider a fantasy?”
“I…don’t know how to respond to that.”
She squinted into the sun. “Well, feel free to order in breakfast while you think on it.”
“Thanks. I’ll pay for it instead of charging the room.” I walked inside as she called to my back, “Order me waffles!”
Waffles were the least I could do. Just add them to my bill.
After checking my phone to find that Aamar had sent out a group chat reminder about lunch, I perused the hotel’s breakfast service menu. There was too much time until then to risk not eating beforehand. The menu offered plenty to choose from and it all arrived on literal silver platters decorated with pink orchids and small vases of hibiscus and complimentary items of chocolates and 100 percent Kona coffee. Which, after Googling to see what that was, meant this coffee was grown on the lava soil slopes of the island and cost about fifty bucks a pound.
Was it worth it? For my salary, no. To my taste buds? Yes.