Page 49 of Snap Shot

Gag.These two have always milked the fact that they share names with one of the most classic couples in Bollywood history.

My mother blushes and tugs the towel away. “Stop it, Rahul.” She redirects her focus to me. “And you! Go wash up. I made pav bhaji.” Before I can ask, she continues. “Your sisters will be home soon. Anika went to pick up Esha from the train station.”

Over the running water in the bathroom, I hear Dad softly singing, “Induji ghar aaye, Induji ghar aaye!” Probably harassing Mom some more. There’s nothing like coming home.

My younger sisters arrive soon after, giving me shit about where I was last night under their breath. Either my parents feign blissful ignorance or truly have no idea what's going on. I get to live another day.

After we clean up, I kick Anika out of her room for the night.

“This isn't fair!”

“Too bad, so sad.” I shove her through the doorway. “Find something else to take a stand about. It's one night. I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon. Unlikesome people, I have to work on Monday.”

Nik scoffs, stomping her foot. “More reason for you to sleep on the couch!”

I shut the door and lock it.

“Indi!”

Esha grumbles from across the hall before her door slams, too. “No way, Nik. You snore.”

“You're both jerks!”

“Oy, what's going on up there?” Dad's voice booms from the bottom of the stairwell.

“Nothing!” We yell back in unison.

It's rare for the three of us to all agree on anything, but we band together again the following morning when Dad complains about us taking forever to get ready for the party. I spend a little too much time scrubbing the smell of Landon from my skin and washing it out of my hair. The bathroom mirror is of no use, still foggy from the searing temperature of my shower, so I stand in the hallway, utilizing the floor-length mirror on the door to moisturize my face and comb out the wet waves. Nik and Esha flank me in the rooms on either side, using mirrors to blend concealer or apply mascara.

“What's the hold up, eh? We have to leave in ten to make it on time and you girls aren't dressed!”

“Go away, Dad!” Only my youngest sister can get away with talking to him like that. Spoiled brat. “Beauty takes time!”

“There's no beauty in vanity, my loves.” He places his hands on his hips, standing behind me and pacing between the bedrooms.

Anika breaks into a sputtered laugh. “It’s makeup. It’s not that serious.”

“Aw, come on, girls. Please hurry up. You're beautiful as you are.”

“Dad! Go. Away!” Esha repeats.

Anika snorts. “Don't you need to help Mom pin her sari or something? Stop bothering us.”

“I beg your pardon! We're gonna have a chat in the car later about respect.” He wags his finger, a disgruntled rant about having some say in his own damn house trailing behind him as he trots down the stairs. Not sure what he expected after having three grown daughters and a wife in the same space.

We eventually make it out the door, dressed and bedazzled with jewelry and bangles, bindi and heels. Despite the in-fighting from the backseat and Dad driving like a wackadoodle, we make it to the ceremony in one piece.

I brace myself for the inevitable comments from the usual crew of Auntys.

“You're next!”

I sure as hell am not.

“How old are you? Are you looking for someone? My brother-in-law's nephew is a software engineer at Netflix in the States.”

No, thank you. I'm busy. I've got my hands full figuring out how to not kill my client.

Small talk and fake smiles for a couple of hours, even if it is my extended family, takes it out of me. It's been a tiring day. A long week to end a long month.

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