Page 27 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“What about your father’s parents?” Mihir’s voice broke my thought, and I turned my eyes to him.

“My grandfather passed away. Grandmother lives in Kerala. My aunt is in the same city, but Ammachi likes living on her own. She’s a strong, fiercely independent woman. I think that’s why she likes my mother. She says Aai’s the best thing that could’ve happened to her son.” I chuckled.

“That’s how it is, isn’t it? Inter-faith relationships are castigated, and yet love is so simple if we just allow it to be.”

I let the silence leech away some of the pain in those words before softly asking, “Is that coming from a personal experience?”

His eyes strained against the dark shadows, and I saw a faint outline of a not-yet-manifested wrinkle. It made him look older, gentler. I glanced at the waters in the distance, my head leaning back against the chaise.

“Dad’s father was a doctor in Lucknow,” he said in a voice so soft, I had to concentrate to hear him. His gaze bounced over the water beyond the parapet. “I visited him a few times. After the third time, I wasn’t allowed to visit.”

I pulled myself upright. He turned to give me a sad smile, then looked away into the distance. “Dadaji had earned his name as a competent doctor, but he also came from a rich, high-profile family, which made him a well-regarded, respected man in the city. I was fifteen when I last visited him. His next-door neighbor, Usman Dadaji, was also a doctor and came from a similarly wealthy family. They had been friends ever since the two young couples moved into their homes in a swanky neighborhood. It was one big, happy extended family, in and out of each other’s homes. Their children were of similar age and so were their grandchildren.”

He paused abruptly, but I didn’t interrupt. When I interlaced my fingers over my stomach, I heard a soft sigh. I looked at him and found a small curve on his lips.

“One of his grandchildren was a lovely girl, Gul. She was also fifteen. When we were younger, we used to play together, but that summer, teenage hormones raged through our bodies. She was a gorgeous girl with gentle curls that framed her round face. Delicate rose-colored lips. Pink cheeks that grew darker every time we were close. And she was smart, knew a lot about astronomy. Her father had gifted her a telescope, and we spent hours looking at the night sky. We talked about constellations and possibilities of life on other planets and in other galaxies. When she learned I played the piano, she lugged her keyboard to the terrace and tugged along her sisters and cousins. Her parents came up too, and I gave a mini-performance one night after dinner.”

I gazed at his forlorn smile, frozen over the tranquil water illuminated by the moonlight.

“Then one hot, humid night when we met on her terrace after dinner to gaze at the sky, something came over us, and we kissed. An innocuous teenage kiss, just a graze. We didn’t even touch each other, only a tender brush of the lips. But her younger sister saw us and told her mother, who brought it to her father, who complained to her grandfather, who came barging into Dadaji’s study. I was summoned. I stood staring at my shoes as Mom had instructed before bringing me to Dadaji. He wasn’t angry, just morose as he explained how I had erred. Of course, it was wrong that I had kissed her, but we were from two different religions, and I hadn’t respected that.”

His eyes darted to me for a quick glance.

“Suddenly, it wasn’t an indiscretion between two kids. It was a transgression of the worst kind, a malicious one. I think what softened the situation was that I was cast as an American kid who didn’t know the ways of India and was excused, in a manner of speaking. But in a snap, there was a dent in the friendship that had spanned several decades. Gul and I were forbidden from interacting after that, although she would give me a wave and a sad smile from her window whenever we happened to see each other. After that, I wasn’t allowed to visit my grandparents. We visited Mom’s family in Indore, but no more visits to Lucknow. They came to the U.S. to visit us. They didn’t stop loving me, but well into my adulthood, Dadaji always had a word for me about right and wrong. When they became too old to travel, my parents visited without me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said and leaned in to put a light hand on his arm.

“You know what the saddest part of that story is? It was the first kiss for the both of us, and its memory is forever linked with hurt and loss.”

I gave his arm a squeeze.

He looked into my eyes and said, “I looked her up once. She’s a doctor now. I hope she’s happy. She deserves to be.”

“All of us deserve happiness. You do too,” I said and quickly followed up that gaffe with a redirect. “So, your father is also a doctor, right?”

He looked away and nodded. A single nod. His trademark. “He just retired. Now he’s honing his skills in the kitchen and driving Mom nuts by making her his guinea pig.”

I smiled at the image. “They seem very happy.”

“They are. Incredibly so.”

I didn’t want the night to end, but I knew I was leading myself into quicksand. It was best if I got out fast. “It’s getting late. We should get some sleep,” I said.

He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair before pulling his long legs off the recliner, and my insides let out a miserable groan. I wanted that hand on my body.

“Hope you get a good night’s sleep,” I said as I stood.

“Goodnight, Sona. I had a great time talking with you. Thank you for listening.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’re wonderful company. I had a great time too.” I stepped closer to him, got on my toes, and kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, Mihir,” I whispered against his beard.

As I turned to walk away, I heard him suck in a quick breath. He touched my wrist, and I looked at him. “I’ll be here tomorrow, same time. Swim with me.”

There was a desperation in his eyes that mirrored how I felt, but it wasn’t wise to let my guard down. “What if I can’t swim?”

“I’ll teach you. Or we can just float in the water.”

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