Page 54 of Rani Deshpande Takes the Wheel
“It isFrankFrank,” I say, just as bewildered.
“Maybe he’s being catfished,” she says.
“He’s not hot enough forthat,” I say, and she gives a shrug, point taken.
“Does he know he has your number?” she asks.
“He should,” I say. “Since I typed it into his phone, as requested.”
“Men are so bizarre,” Simran says, shaking her head. She muses. “But what the hell,” she says, and then she’s tapping the screen to match with him.
“Simran!” I exclaim, reaching for my phone, but it’s too late. Simran cackles as she returns it to me. Passersby are watching; Saira and Sharmila are sure to give us a talking-to later, but I still send her a glare. “Why?”
“For the bit,” she says. “Come on, you liked him at first, you can’t say you’re not curious.”
She’s right—I can’t. Still, I shake my head. “You’re terrible,” I say, and she laughs. We continue our walk-through, chatting as we admire the art, readings and research long forgotten.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Khannas host this week’s Sunday dinner. It’s a smaller affair, since Suresh Uncle is still in Jaipur, and Baba’s on shift again. The twins’ attendance is grudgingly procured by a promise to let them use the Khanna movie room without restriction. In full only-child fashion, Kush’s family home has more spare rooms than needed, hence the movie room, in addition to Suresh Uncle’s work office and Noori Aunty’s yoga studio. My iPad kid brothers are very appreciative.
I’m glad to have the twins and Ajoba with me. Nothing I told Simran was a lie; driving lessons have been smooth and professional, but it doesn’t hurt to have some more insulation if I have to be around Kush.
Noori Aunty’s in the kitchen when we arrive, so Kush gets the door. He’s fresh from a shower, hair still damp, dressed in a UW half zip and navy joggers. It’s a rare, pleasant sight, Kush in hishome environment, in this relaxed state. I catch myself admiring and instantly avert my gaze.
Aai takes one sniff of the foyer and brightens. “Kadhi bana rahi hai?” she asks Kush in lieu of hello. When he smiles, affirmative, she pushes forward, calling out, “Noori, you spoil us!”
My mouth waters too. Kadhi pakora is by far my favorite Punjabi dish. The tangy, creamy curry is an ultimate comfort meal, and Noori Aunty’s variation has a particular magic. Her pakoras somehow retain their crispiness despite being immersed in the thick kadhi.
“This is what I came for,” Ajoba says with a sigh, sliding his shoes off and heading after Aai. The twins make a beeline for the movie room. I think of following them, eager not to be alone with Kush, but my eyes catch on a portrait on the entry wall. I haven’t been to the Khanna home in a while, and this piece is a new addition: a framed print of the Alina Joshi painting that captivated me at the Sinhas’ gallery.
I halt before it, and Kush catches my stare. “Incredible, right?” he says. “My cousin’s the artist. She’s the one who just got married in Boston.”
“Woah,” I say. “Jealous.” None of my cousins are quite so talented. I peer close and admire the detailing on the younger sister’s chunni; every brushstroke is precise and masterful, even on the print. “She was at Simran’s moms’ gallery. Couldn’t look away.”
“I’ll pass it on,” he says. “She’ll be giddy to hear it. Alina lives for flattery.”
Finally, I pull myself away from the work, and we approach the kitchen together. Already I can hear the twins’ movie starting where they’ve hunkered down. They’ve settled on a truehit—Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, a Bollywood boys’ trip film that I introduced them to years back. It always makes me proud to have passed down a love for Hindi cinema to my brothers.
Ajoba’s made himself comfortable on the window nook, lost in a game of online chess, when we reach the kitchen. I hear my name carry from bits of our moms’ conversation, and Noori Aunty beams at me from the stove.
“Vandana was just telling me how helpful you’ve been with Nabhi’s schooling,” she says.
I blink. “Oh,” I say, eyes flitting to Aai, who sips her chai beside Noori Aunty. It’s very classic of her: Aai rarely expresses gratitude to me herself, preferring to compliment by proxy instead. “Well, someone’s gotta do it.”
“The boys are so lucky to have you,” Noori Aunty says. She pushes a tray of chai toward me, and I take a glass, handing another to Kush, careful not to let our fingers brush. “I hope they celebrate you properly at Rakhi.”
Rakhi is a Hindu festival honoring the bond between sisters and brothers, and it’s customary for brothers to present their sister with gifts as a token of appreciation. For the past couple years, the twins have gotten me a joint card and very well-intentioned but ultimately unwearable jewelry. Rakhi is a few weeks away now, and I’m hoping this year they just go with a check.
“Raksha Bandhan truly is Rani’s holiday,” Aai says. “Two brothers, double the presents.”
“As she deserves,” Noori Aunty says with a laugh, and I try to smile. I’ll take the flattery on my big sister skills, but it’s not as though I relish the role. It’s just come to be expected of me.When I glance over at him, Kush is watching my reaction. I take a few sips of chai to avoid his gaze.
Noori Aunty stirs the kadhi and continues with a sigh. “Makes me sad sometimes that Kush will never experience Rakhi. Such a cherished festival for me growing up. My brothers spoiled us with gifts each year.”
Aai clucks her tongue. “Don’t be silly, Noori,” she says. “We are like family, no? Kush is always welcome to celebrate Rakhi with us.”
A strangled sound escapes Kush’s throat. I almost choke on my chai. “No,” I blurt.
