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I had absolutely zero interest in allowing my father to arrange my marriage to anyone. While my friends may have ended up in perfectly content matches, I couldn’t give in to the archaic practice of this whole arranged marriage business. Or marriage in general. Or commitment, for that matter. No. Freaking. Thank. You. If I wanted to answer to a man for the rest of my life, I’d just live with my father. Thanks to a culture where our twenties meant draconian aunties swooping in to play matchmaker, I had to battle the nauseating notion of lifelong commitment.
After all, as one of his multiple voicemails pointed out, finding a qualified man who would even consider me had been a strenuous five-year hunt. Given my reputation and all.
“I’m not going to lie and say I know everything about her, but I do know if you’re nice to her, she will be a good friend to you. If you’re a jerk or start judging her, she’ll probably put you in your place. Liya is opinionated and strong and doesn’t take crap from anyone. Maybe the problem here is you and not her. All that judgmental, sexist shaming you’re doing isn’t reflective of her but defining you.”
“Which floor?” But I’d already leaned past him and pressed the button for the fifth floor. “I don’t need you to press my buttons.” “Looks like I already do.”
The world is changing, and the older generation needs to keep up or shut up.” “I understand, and no disagreement here,” Preeti said. “I just wish I could do it the way you do, with my chin up. I thought love was enough, but the way love broke everything wasn’t worth it.”
“Love is enough. It’s society’s views and old-world thinking that broke everything.”
With Preeti, society wanted to humiliate her because she fell in love with a non-Indian. With me, society wanted to banish me because I wasn’t chaste and polite and un-opinionated.
“It’s an archaic practice. Who wants to marry someone just because parents and society tells us we need to, or because we’re getting too old? Who wants to be tied down to the same man forever? Who wants to have to answer to a man? Who wants to be trapped?” Who wanted to be hurt when they were let down by their man? But there was a critical, heartbreaking question beneath it all: who wanted to marry a broken woman?
I remembered when I’d actually enjoyed coming here. But that was so long ago. Another lifetime ago. A time when I was young and innocent and accepted by Indian society. Whatever normalcy and personal peace that I’d obtained over the past few years came from staying away from this place.
Mukesh. The pious. The unadulterated. The embodiment of a hard-working immigrant who made a rich name in America and remained humble all the way. Mukesh. The only man I hated more than Dad. Dad, oh, I could loathe him, argue, slam doors in his face. Mukesh? I wanted to literally kill him. Because he deserved it. But without evidence of his sexual assault against me, his word against mine, the saint against the whore, there was no point. He was the reason I was broken. And he was the reason why I wasn’t welcomed here, with his malicious fueling of the gossip fire that made me stay away.
“I’m not perfect. And I’m speaking the truth.” “That’s a tired excuse. She’s imperfect, too. We all are. Being imperfect isn’t an excuse for you to slander. And she has every right to be here. Sounds like maybe you need to sit in the front row during sermons as much as anyone else.”
“You love riling people up in a place of worship, don’t you?” “Don’t be so easily riled up.” Shilpa giggled, and we glared at her. “Oh, sorry. But you two are just so cute.”
“You clearly want a servant, not a woman, and that is a reflection of you, not me.”
“I mean, also, for last night. I didn’t thank you for that.” The rigidity of his shoulders relaxed. “You don’t have to.” “Yes, I do. You helped when I pushed you away. You did a lot for someone you don’t even like.” “I don’t not like you.”
“Maybe we can be friends,” he suggested. “Friendly?” “That works, too.”
Are we about to get into a texting argument? Jay: Only if you’re bored and want to spend the evening arguing with me.
“It’s hard not to argue back with her.” I grunted with another push on my machine, working my pecs. Jahn smirked. “Maybe you like her.” I shook my head before my brother got the wrong idea. “She’s tolerable.”
“It’s my honor. Remember that word? It’s what our parents taught us. We don’t blame people or hate situations. We deal, accept, move on, and make the best of it. We’re fine now. Why? Because we remained strong and kept focused. It was hard, but worth it. I had the honor of taking care of my family and still getting my degree. I married an amazing woman and we’re about to have a child. You got through law school. Dad wanted us to live our best lives, be happy. That’s how we can honor him. We always had a meal in our bellies, right? A roof over our heads? Love in our home?” “Yes,” I answered.
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“I’m very picky about my coffee.” “White chocolate peppermint latte, half skim, half soy, no whip, extra white chocolate sauce on the bottom and a drizzle on top.” Her gaze shot up, watching me over the rim of the cup with a hint of incredulity. “How’d you know?” I shrugged. “Maybe we like the same drinks.” Or maybe Wendy had told me the other day when she balanced three cups of coffee in the elevator.
When I emerged, she was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. I sat on the barstool and stared at her. She was exceptionally beautiful first thing in the morning.
“I’m surprised that you can cook.” “Because?” “Uh. Because you’re Liya Thakkar, feminist extraordinaire.” “Don’t be an ass.”
Although a part of me still didn’t believe I deserved a happy ending, another part saw imperfections in Liya that matched my own. She was an emotional hot mess and so was I. Maybe…we would make a match.
“Marriage doesn’t have to be that. Not that it matters now, but I wouldn’t want a subservient wife. I want…a queen. Authoritative, independent, decisive, but able to confide in me and consult with me, a team player.” She waved off my words. “That’s all talk.” “Is it?” “Guys will say that to get the girl. They’ll say anything.” “Except I’m not trying to get you,” I lied.
“But anyway, things are good now. Clearly, neither one of us will ever consider the other one for marriage again.” “Clearly…” And yet, here I was kind of wanting to date her. The real her. This her. The intelligent, funny, talented, free, laid-back woman who didn’t try to put up a hard exterior to keep everyone out.
This woman went from infuriating to picking out a baby gift for my family. How did we get here? How did we get from constant fighting to me wanting to touch her lips?
Finding Jay was easy these days. He was tall and commanding, broad with muscles beneath nice clothes. His deep voice carried, and when he smiled that smile, my insides sank like a roller-coaster ride taking its highest drop. The sort of feeling that people loved and desperately craved more of.
No matter where I looked, my gaze fell on happy couples and joyous families. Why didn’t I have any of this? My relationship with my parents left much to be desired. My relationships with most people were superficial at best. My relationship with a man was nonexistent. I could strive for anything in the world and get it…except this. My baby shower, although I cringed at the thought of having kids, would never be this amazing. Never this sort of turnout and outpouring of love from family and community. Close friends? Yes, of course. Anyone else? Not a chance.
“Hey,” he said, taking my hand before I slipped into the car. “Go out with me.” I scoffed. “Are you sure there wasn’t alcohol in those drinks?” “Seriously, Liya. One date.” “Why?” “You have time for that answer? Because saying that I like you isn’t enough.”
“What are you doing?” I asked, out of breath and absolutely hating that he could hear it. I was literally one touch away from wanting him to devour me. He barely touched me, and yet my entire body ached for him. “Asking you out, again and again,” his said, his voice dropping.
“I don’t know what you see in yourself, Liya, but I see a lot more.”
There was an incomprehensible longing when our flesh touched, and even more so when she pressed into my chest, her soft curves melting against me. “Tell me,” I half muttered, half groaned. She sucked in a breath. “I can’t think, Jay.” “Why?” I whispered and tilted into her, my forehead touching hers. Her breathing turned erratic, hard. Her lips moved and twisted until she bit them, as if words tangled on her tongue and she couldn’t bring herself to admit anything to me. “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.” “I wish you were a Mike. This would be easier.”
“Why won’t you give me a chance?” “I don’t want to marry you,” she replied. “No one said anything about marriage.” Although I wouldn’t mind. Liya would keep me on my toes, and after getting to know some of the real her…it was difficult to imagine any other woman as my wife. Who could possibly stand up against her? Against this feisty, strong, vulnerable, imperfectly perfect woman?
“Why do you even want to bother with me?” She shook her head as if she really could not understand my wanting this, my wanting her.
I laughed, and she sort of smiled. “You’re intriguing, smart, independent, kind, gorgeous, and no other woman has the ability to make my heart beat so hard when she walks into a room. Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”
I didn’t realize until the end of the week that Jay and I had actually been on more than just the one date. It had been a build of very cautious, innocent moments. I needed someone to lean on about the situation the company had left me in, and he’d been there. Somehow, those little moments turned into borderline dates and a relationship of some kind. Well, some kind of something that didn’t make me want to walk away.
When had his smile turned from something I had assumed he flashed at all of the girls to something I knew was sincere and meant only for me?
“Who said I was trying to get romantic?” “What else is a date for?” I asked, trying to control my hair from whipping around my face. “To get to know someone.” “Oh.” He leaned back on the railing, looking mighty fine on the sun-drenched lake. “Men haven’t treated you well before, have they?” “Don’t psychoanalyze.”
“I hate that you think you have nothing to offer me except your body, that it’s the only thing I care about,” he said softly.
“Why are you so bent on pushing me away?” I’d been so into this rapid exchange of heated information that I spoke before thinking, “Because nice guys don’t come after me.”
Some small part of me knew that telling him would be just fine. That maybe he’d understand or even take my side, but then there were all the hard facts of my life: Good guys didn’t date me.
Men fell into three categories: ones who wanted me for my body, ones who were intimidated by my personality, or ones who dismissed me because of my reputation.
Despite how much we fought, my body always responded to her. She woke me up. I came to life. My heart beat as if it had never beat before. My pulse sizzled, my veins throbbed, my gut tightened.
“You’re not this quiet, lost person. Where did you go?” I cupped her cheek and searched her eyes for the vibrant, full-of-life fighter that was somewhere in there. “Most people like me to shut up,” she said quietly. I grunted, “Not me. Where’s the snarky, smart-mouthed, opinionated woman?” “She’s still here.” “I miss her,” I confessed. She craned her head back. “You miss that woman?” “The world feels incomplete without her.” She momentarily glanced away, her lips quivering as if she were trying not to smile. “You talk like a man who has it bad.” I caressed her cheek as I let go. “I am a man
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Other guys had given me the roller-coaster feeling, the need to hurry up and release as soon as possible. But with Jay? I wanted this phenomenon to slow down and last for eternity. It was as if my entire life had been broken into obscure pieces and his touch brought everything together, clarified the whole, and made me stronger.
How did someone go from never trusting a man to telling one about being assaulted? By the most respected man in the community? What if Jay didn’t believe me?
I laughed, and although he kept his hands to himself, after a while, I bundled up as the night chilled. Only then did Jay wrap his arm around my shoulder and hug me, tender and protective, and all the things that made me warm inside. All the things men had never offered.
“I think this, whatever we have and could have, will dissolve because I’m wild and untamed and you’ll get tired of either my ways or the rumors. And I know you believe you’ll never let that happen, but wait until it’s constant and external. You’ll decide we’re not worth it after all.” “Do you want this to be worth it, or are you just using this excuse to spare yourself the pain?” “Both.” “Who hurt you so badly that you think like that?” he asked. “The question is: who hasn’t?”
In his embrace, the truth didn’t hurt so much. What my dad had done disintegrated. I’d only ever known men to hurt me, but for the first time, this man was gluing me back together.
“Why do you want to look at my ugly side?” “Jay, you don’t have an ugly side.”
My lips moved up to his shoulders, his neck, near his ear, where I whispered, “Everything about you is gorgeous.”
