Page 89 of Debugging Love

“Your landlord lets you have pets?” Mom says.

“Yep.”

“And you have carpet?” she adds.

“Yep.”

Mom prefers hard surfaces that she can thoroughly sanitize with her homemade citrus spray, including her furniture, opting for expensive vegan leather. Because animal rights. Also Dadi’s vegetarian and a devoted Hindu. She won’t sit anywhere near cow leather. The point: Mom’s not into mixing pet dander and nylon plies.

“Jyotiraditya,” Dadi sings again, sounding exceedingly chipper. Metal legs shriek against tile as she pulls her chair over. She plops it between Mom and Dad, forcing them apart, and adjusts the embroidered neck of her purple and gold saree.

“Hey, Dadi. Are you keeping Mom and Dad in line?”

“They only listen to me when they want me to cook them something.”

“Not true,” Dad mutters.

“I’m joking.” Dadi swats Dad’s arm, and then she scowls at the wall behind me. “What’s that noise?”

“It’s his dog,” Mom says.

“You have a dog, Adi?”

“Yep.” I feel guilty lying but if I tell Dadi the truth she’ll holler at me in Kannada for an hour and I’m too tired for that.

“I adopted him to keep me company during the lonely nights I spend at home alone.”

“How is that supposed to work?” Dadi asks.

“I feed him twice a day, make sure he has water, and let him out whenever he wiggles his butt by the door.”

“I know how to take care of a dog,” Dadi says sternly, “but what do you plan to do with him when you move back to India?”

I’m not dumb enough to tell her I don’t know if I’m moving back to India. “I’ll put him in a crate and he’ll go wherever they put animals on airplanes.” This lie is already getting too complicated.

“And what if your wife does not want this dog?”

“Don’t worry about tomorrow when there’s enough trouble today,” I say.

“Now you’re quoting the Bible?” Mom says.

“I am?”

“Son,” Dadi says to Dad, “tell your boy he needs to come home.”

“I lived half my life in America,” I say, testing the waters. Maybe this conversation would go better if I told the truth. And maybe lying takes too much energy. Yes, it definitely does.

Savannah’s snoring reaches a fever pitch. I think she has sleep apnea. Or a bullfrog in her sinuses.

“You have so many reasons to be with us,” Mom says. “Your sister and Erish want to start a family. Your father needs your help at BTI. You can make more money here and your money will go farther.”

Dadi flutters her hands in excitement. “I can’t keep it a secret anymore. We won Navya back, Adi. The family has agreed. They would like you and Navya to marry.”

Her words are a gut punch. Navya was off my radar. I thought she was a done deal, as in done with me. And now I have Danni. Or, I’d like to have Danni. “I don’t want to marry Navya.” I spurt it out so fast my words mush together.

Mom, Dadi, and Dad regard me with varying levels of shock. I take their silence as an opportunity. “Yeah. I don’t want an arranged marriage. I already told Dad. I want a love match.”

Dadi rears back and scowls at my dad.

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