Page 88 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

When I arrived at my parents’ house, Durgaben let me in. Dad lounged in the recliner in his study with the television on. I didn’t have to guess that he had a drink in his hand. Amar and Mom had changed out of their party clothes and sat in the family room, anxiety and fear marking both their faces. Mom rushed over and hugged me.

“It’s okay, Ma. Everything will be fine. I’ll take care of it.”

Just then, Dad ambled in with a tight grip on his crystal glass. “Ah, the ungrateful son returns.”

“Ungrateful?” I fumed. “Do you really think the stunt you pulled today won’t come and bite us in the ass?”

“Language…” Mom muttered under her breath. But I threw her a stern glare, and she looked away.

“What the hell were you thinking suggesting that bullshit to Aarti? What did you tell her anyway?”

“Well, you’re going to be rich and happy for life, aren’t you?” he replied, unfazed.

“Are you serious? Did you really think it was wise to jump into formalizing a relationship with someone as well connected as the Bhatias without first cleaning up our own backyard?”

“What are you talking about? They know all they need to know.”

“Really? And what happens when they learn about Riya?” I frowned with anger. “Do you think they’ll be cool with that?”

Dread filled his eyes as he staggered, groping for something to steady himself. Amar and I rushed over. Amar took the glass from his hand while I lowered him to the couch.

Leaving him alone with a refilled glass, we went to their bedroom. Mom handed me some pictures she thought might help me connect with Riya. The betrayal stung me every time I saw those smiling faces, in love, as if nothing else mattered. It was a family. A real family, just not one recognized by the law.

“Keep a cool head,” Mom said, “and be kind. There is nothing greater than kindness at this time.”

I hung my head low. “Yes.”

“Make the girl feel loved. She’s at that tender age where she’s not a child anymore. She knows things even if she doesn’t understand them completely. If she needs to come here, she should be happy about it and not feel trapped. Do you understand? We’re her only family. Sangita’s parents have broken all ties with her. They will want nothing to do with Riya.”

I gave her a meek nod just as Amar walked in with a laptop in his hand. “I found two first-class tickets for an early morning flight tomorrow. Expensive, but I guess it’s alright?”

I nodded and handed him a credit card. “Wait, why two?”

“Amar is going with you,” Mom said.

I looked up at him, and he reassured me with a light nod.

“I’m sorry you have to cut your visit short,” I said, but I was grateful for his support.

“You’ll stay at Tauji’s while you’re there,” Mom said.

“I’d rather stay at a hotel.” I looked at Amar. It was his home, after all.

“I don’t care,” he said. “Whatever works for you.”

“Zid mat karo,” Mom admonished. “And don’t argue. You and Amar will stay at his parents’. End of discussion.”

“I’m guessing you’ve already spoken to them?”

“No, I’ll talk to them after you leave. I have no idea how to broach the subject.”

Amar and I said nothing. This was between the elders of the family, and we kids were instructed never to interfere.

•••

Twenty-six hours and one layover later, we landed at the Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi. Being there again after everything that had happened evoked mixed feelings. Although I was born in the U.S., I grew up in this city. All of my formative memories were linked to this place. It was home. At least, it used to be. But thirteen years is a long time in a rapidly changing world. The city had changed. I had changed. My relationship with it wasn’t the same. I almost didn’t recognize some parts as we drove to my uncle’s home.

“Worried about seeing Riya?” Amar asked upon reading my face.

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