Rishi stood in the driveway with his parents and Ashish. He had only a small duffel bag with him; the rest he’d worry about later. He couldn’t help but draw a parallel to the day he’d left for Insomnia Con. The thought pulled forth unbidden memories of Dimple—her sparkling, watchful eyes, her frown with the crease between her brows, her curly, wild hair. He struggled to push them away.
He smiled at Pappa, and Pappa smiled back. There was no hint of tension. They’d worked it out. Somehow, two divergent points of view hadn’t resulted in yelling and screaming and hurt feelings. Somehow, they’d been able to sit and talk about it.
And Rishi had come to understand Pappa’s point of view. He hadn’t asked Rishi to give up comics from a sense of arrogance or pride or feeling ashamed of his oldest son’s artistic proclivities. Pappa was just a deeply practical man, which Rishi could appreciate.
Pappa had taken a while to convince, but once he got it, he got it. He realized asking Rishi to commit to an engineering program was like asking him to live in a nicely decorated cage for the rest of his life. And when Rishi had sent in his late application to the art program and withdrawn from MIT’s engineering track, Pappa had actually clapped him on the shoulder, smiled, and said, “I used to paint when I was your age. Sometimes I dream in watercolor. You’re brave in a way I could never be, Rishi.”
? ? ?
In the driveway, Ma had already performed the puja with the silver tray, just as she’d done before his trip to Insomnia Con. Now she grabbed his arm and looked up at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Call us soon, beta.”
“I will, Ma.” He hugged her tightly, feeling a heaviness in his throat. This was really it. He would see them only rarely for the next four years. This wasn’t his primary residence anymore. He reached down and touched her feet, and then Pappa’s, asking for their blessings.
As soon as he was done, Ashish grabbed him in a bear hug and clapped him on the back. The phone in his back pocket jangled. Rishi pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Celia?”
Ashish nodded, blushing a healthy pink. He and Celia had gotten more serious over the past month. Ashish had made several trips up to San Francisco to spend time with her. Pappa and Ma were letting it slide for now, but he’d heard them discuss having Celia over for dinner one day soon.
“Bhaiyya,” Ashish began, itching his jaw. “Are you sure?”
They’d touched on this conversation so many times over the past month, and every time, Rishi had put a stop to it. Rishi sighed. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He looked at Pappa and Ma, too, although they were pretending they had nothing to do with this conversation. “Dimple made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with me. She said I was too afraid to live life, to take risks.”
“Lekin, beta . . . ,” Ma started.
Rishi held up a hand. “We’ve talked about this. Did she have some good points? Maybe.” He shrugged. “Did she always encourage me to be my true self? Sure. But ultimately, she called me a coward.” He looked around at them. “A coward.”
Pappa and Ma sighed, but Ashish grabbed the back of his own neck and huffed. “Look, I think that’s totally idiotic.” He glanced at their parents. “I’m sorry, Pappa, Ma. I know you guys don’t want me butting in and upsetting him.” He turned back to Rishi. “But Dimple wanted you to be your true self, Rishi. She saw who you really were and she pushed you to be that person. I saw how she looked at you. She loves you. She may have had a temporary freak-out, but she loves you.
“I told you what Celia said—Dimple hasn’t seemed the same for the last month. Like she’s in this depression or shock or something. And we all know”—he gestured at Pappa and Ma—“that you’ve been the same way. You’ve only been half here. You’re like a freaking ghost, barely eating, barely sleeping. You guys both love each other. You need to stop being so freaking stubborn and go tell her how you feel.”
Rishi silently stared at his little brother and then at his parents. Something in his chest hitched, a seedling of doubt that was rapidly beginning to grow into a proper tree. “Ma, Pappa? Do you think this too?”
Ma looked uncomfortable, and Pappa shrugged. “Rishi, it is your decision. But . . .”
“But you seem so unhappy, beta,” Ma finished softly. “So unhappy.”
Rishi thought he’d been making the healthy choice, not pining after her. Well, not visibly pining. Trying to move forward. Get past all the heartbreak. But they’d still noticed. They’d seen how miserable he was. How truly miserable. It was a battle he’d raged internally every single day, trying to forget the woman who so obviously had forgotten him. When Ashish told him what Celia said, he hadn’t paid attention. They were obviously just trying to make him feel better.
But what if it was actually true? What if Dimple really did still love him? What if maybe she’d only said those things in anger and regretted them? Maybe she’d seen to the core of his soul and truly liked what she’d seen.
Looking at the faces of his family, Rishi knew one thing: He had to find out. Now. Oh my gods, he’d been so stupid. So very stupid.
He straightened up and threw his duffel bag in the backseat of his convertible. “I’m going,” he said, jumping into the driver’s seat.
“Where?” Ashish asked, his face both hopeful and wary.
“To try and win your bhabhi back,” Rishi said, grinning.
He raced down the tree-lined driveway, the sound of his family’s whoops and laughter cheering him on.
Dimple was nearly to the Stanford campus when her phone buzzed. She reached into the console, only to realize she’d stuck it in her purse at her last rest stop. Reaching into her purse, she riffled around until she felt the hard edge of her phone underneath a pile of papers. She dumped her purse out on the seat next to her, looked down to see Mamma’s face flashing on the screen.
Dimple laughed; Mamma had called her three times already, just to make sure she was awake. She didn’t get the concept that driving while talking on the phone was almost just as dangerous as falling asleep behind the wheel. She pressed the reject button to send it to voice mail when her eyes caught on a piece of paper that had fallen from her purse.