Page 48 of Snap Shot

Esha:Me too!

Me:No.

Anika:I'll ask Bea. Give you the updates later, E.

Esha:Also, are you coming home tonight or tomorrow morning?

Me:I wasn't planning on coming home this weekend.

Anika:OMG YOU FORGOT

Me:???

Esha:Didi! Karishma's engagement thingy is tomorrow! How could you forget??

Tomorrow? I flip over to my calendar app, and lo and behold, tomorrow is my cousin's engagement ceremony day.

Me:JK guys. I'll be home tonight, depending on traffic.

Esha:Sure, sure.

Anika:You forgot ahah. Can't wait to tell Karish.

Me:Don't you dare!

Esha:If you're not going to wear that green anarkali, can I borrow it?

Me:No.

Esha:The gold lehenga then?

Me:No!

Esha:You always get the good ones and don't wear them.

Me:Don't care. Don't touch my closet.

I pack as soon as I get back to my place, skipping a shower and changing into sweats and a tee for the five-hour drive that might turn into seven. If I'm lucky, I'll be home for dinner. Traffic is hellish as expected, but I preoccupy myself with the eventful previous week and Gabe's advice from the morning, ruminating and ruminating. By the time I pull into the driveway, I don't know whether I want to tell Landon the truth or drop him as a client without explanation. It's only when I lift my hand to knock that I realize I didn't call my mother back.

Her sixth sense beats me to it, and she swings the door open with an unimpressed smile. Mom’s expression transforms into sardonic surprise. “Oh, ho, ho!Aaye, aaye, Mallika-E-Hindustan!” She bows and backs away, bringing an open palm to her forehead several times, the respectful greeting of the Moghuls. I'm surrounded by sarcastic assholes.“We're so honored you have graced our household with your presence.”

“Very funny, Mom.” I slip off my sneakers and toss the duffle into a corner of the entryway, hugging her with a playful side-squeeze. “I'm sorry I didn't call. It's been a crazy week.”

My height towers above hers and she gives in, patting my arm from underneath.

“Always so busy,” she whines. “Too busy for your own mother.”

I kiss the top of her head with a silly sort of aggression. “I love you,” I say with a smile.

She glares back. “Yes, yes, I know.”

Dad ambles in from the back of the house. “Oy hoye!” A family of actors, we are.He lifts both arms, pointing his index fingers to the sky, and shakes his shoulders, breaking out into his best bhangra move. “Induji ghar aaye, Induji ghar aaye!”

The play-on-words has me cracking up and joining him, sandwiching my mom between us.

“Rahul!” Mom smacks Dad with the hand towel hanging over her shoulder.

Dad grabs one end and pulls her closer, swiping the tip of her nose with his finger. “Anjali!”

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