Page 87 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

After catching them up on the latest in my life, sans the unplanned proposal, I said, “Actually, that’s why I’m here today. Sona wants to see my baby pictures. Do you still store them in that huge closet next your bedroom?”

They both shifted in their chairs and exchanged tensed looks.

“Yes, but it’s a mess in there,” Mom said. “I’ll pull them out for you during the week. You won’t find anything in there right now.” She glanced at Dad, and I caught her clenching her fist.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, looking between them. “Why are you both tensed? Have you thrown away my pictures?” I chuckled. They didn’t.

“Of course not, beta,” Mom replied before excusing herself with haste and shuffling off to the kitchen.

“I think the closet is a mess,” Dad explained when Mom was out of sight. “Maybe I should help her sort it out.”

“I can help,” I said, sipping the scotch in my hand.

“No, that’s alright. I know you’re busy.”

“What are you two hiding from me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He threw his head back in an uncharacteristically loud laugh, rife with nervousness. “When have we ever hidden anything from you, son?”

That was true. They’d never intentionally hidden anything from me. At least, until now.

When I’d arrived, I’d been excited about seeing my old pictures again. I hadn’t seen them since middle school. I wasn’t particularly sentimental, and neither were my parents. I hadn’t known them to languish in nostalgia. They were logical, practical, forward-looking. Perhaps that’s why I was too. Now, I was intrigued. What could be the reason behind their furtive glances and disconcerted looks? And Mom’s clenched fist?

“I think I’ll stay over tonight,” I declared after dinner. “I’ve had a little too much to drink.”

It wasn’t unusual for me to stay over, and usually, Mom was ecstatic, but her response that evening was lukewarm. “Make sure you change the bedsheets,” she said before retiring to their bedroom.

When I went upstairs to my room, I pulled out a set of fresh linens from the closet and called Sona, telling her about my parents’ shifty behavior while I changed the sheets.

“What was all that about?” she asked when we switched to video call. She was in bed with her curls spread out on the pillow. I looked at her soft, pillowy lips, naked without the usual lipstick, and reached out to touch the screen.

“Maybe you’re reading too much into it,” she said.

“I’ve never seen them behave this strangely. And there’s something I haven’t told you.” I propped my head up with an arm underneath it. “When we were driving back from their anniversary dinner, I saw something. It was fleeting but unmistakable.”

I told her how I had spotted a desolate look on Mom’s face, and Dad put a reassuring hand around her. “What do you think?” I asked.

“I don’t know, love. But if something’s upsetting them, you should ask them about it. Maybe you can do something to ease it?”

“You’re right. I’ll ask them over breakfast tomorrow.”

“Yes, but be gentle. Don’t push them. Use soft words instead of employing your usual iron-handed approach.”

I smiled. “Wish you were here with me. I bet you could get them talking in no time.”

She smiled back. “I’m glad you trust me that way.”

“I trust you in every way, babe. I can’t wait for summer when I finally meet your parents and ask for your hand in marriage.”

She grimaced. “You’re not asking my parents for my hand. I’m not their property, and neither will I be yours. I certainly want you to seek their blessings, but I’ve already given you my answer.”

“A provisional answer, may I remind you,” I teased.

“Yeah, we’ll see how well you do in India,” she teased back with a smile. “That will determine your destiny, Mr. Seth.”

“My destiny is linked with you, Sona. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“Alright, let me know how it goes tomorrow morning.”

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