Page 200 of Snap Shot

“Hey, Mom. Lower the camera.” She does. “And hello to you, too.”

“Ayyyyyyy!” Dad's face appears on-screen sideways.

I hold back a laugh. “Hi, Dad.”

Mom smacks his shoulder. “Grow up, Rahul.”

“You first, Anjali.” He crinkles his nose and gets in her face.

My expression sours. “Should I hang up, or…?”

“Bas kar, yaar.” Mom elbows Dad to shape up. He puffs his chest, a fake serious, goofy look on his face. “So? How'd it go? What happened?”

A deep breath exits my nostrils. “Theresa offered me partner.”

Wild hollers ring in my ears as the image on my screen blurs with motion. My father goes upright and freezes, then begins a series of movements that resemble an arm wave.

“Oh, my God, Dad.Stop.”

“Why? Ask your Mum. I was a helluvab-boy back in the day.” He continues to pop and lock his shoulders between grunts. “Unh-unh. You like that? I know she does.” His thumb points at my poor mom.

“Yes, yes.” She swats him away. “Your promotion is one reason to celebrate. I can think of another.” Her brows pump twice into the camera.

“I have a feeling you're about to tell me.”

“You're getting older now.”

Danger zone!

“And you're all set with your career.”

My breath quickens, a deer-in-headlights panic setting in.

“It wouldn't hurt if you keep your eyes open for…” Mom tries to get Dad to finish the sentence, but he shrugs, having no clue what she means. “Marriage prospects.”

“Moooooom,” I whine.

“I'm serious!”

Another attempt at getting Dad on board is thwarted. He scowls and crosses his arms. “First comes career, then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage.”

“Baby?” I facepalm. I can barely feed myself most days. “Haven't you missed something?”

Mom side-eyes off-screen. “Hmm.I don't think so.”

Heated blood rises to my cheeks, stomach churning. “What about love?”

“Right, yes. Love is important, but with the right person…”

The sinking feeling that follows is gut-wrenching. I should tell them about Landon. How much I love him and how good he is at loving me. For whatever reason, I stay quiet.

“Anju, stop pestering the poor girl. She's too young to be married. All my girls have a long way to go yet.”

“Ofo! We were already married by her age.”

Them bickering is better than being mushy.

“Just becauseyou'renot ready doesn't mean they aren't. If it was up to you, they'd never get married!” Her hands fly up and gesture this way and that. “They can't faff around our house the rest of their lives.” Mom steps into the kitchen behind Dad, rant switching to Gujarati.

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