Page 97 of The Ex Factor

It wasn’t a weekend I was looking forward to. Aarti was better, but I still didn’t want to leave her side. Or rather, I didn’t want to leaveher.

But everyone in my family had called to confirm I was coming to lunch on Sunday. I had expected calls from Amma and Cathy, but when Nanna and Srijan called, I knew it was a siren for deep trouble. Then my nieces called, courtesy of Cathy, to remind me how much they were looking forward to seeing me that weekend.

This time, Imran refused to let the car service drive me. I was already feeling coddled and claustrophobic, but Imran insisted that it would be best if he drove me on Sunday. Lacking the energy to fight back on another front, I assented. He insisted that he was thinking of visiting his cousin anyway, and this would be a perfect opportunity.

“You’ve had a tough week, Boss,” he said as we approached my parents’ home in the quaint town of Princeton.

My father had retired from the university, but they hadn’t felt the need to move away from the town. That both their sons lived within reasonable driving distance was one of the reasons, and they were surrounded by family up and down the state.

“Kanna!” Amma squealed per her usual happy demeanor, although I didn’t miss the tense look she exchanged with Cathy as I crossed the threshold into the house.

My nieces came hurtling toward me. “My little rabbits!” I said, grabbing one in each arm and giving them a warm embrace.

“Your rabbits are now turning into clever foxes,” Srijan said, giving me a hug.

Nanna gave me a pat on my back. “It’s been too long this time, Sujit,” he said.

Cathy was the last one to smile at me.

“Hi, Suj,” she said.

“Come on, Cath,” I teased. “You can do better than that.” I took her in my embrace and hugged her like we usually did.

Srijan smirked. “You’re in big trouble,” he whispered near my ear as we all headed inside the home.

“I know, Padma warned me,” I whispered back, and he chuckled.

Lunch was no different than usual. Laughter, chatter, and silly jokes from the girls. Now that the older one was in the fifth grade, everything was dramatic. A lot of things were “sus,” and most of the boys in her class had become “so annoying.”

Not to be left behind, the younger one shared tales of playground politics and allegations of favoritism by teachers.

“Eat your food,” Cathy kept reminding them intermittently, and they harrumphed each time before deferring to her instruction.

It was late afternoon when the girls finally disappeared into Dad’s library. It was their favorite place in the home. Dad and Amma had curated a special section for them over the years, with their own personalized reading nooks, complete with comfortable oversized recliners for both. The girls were their first grandchildren, and their only ones, they suspected.

I chuckled at their conviction as Srijan handed me a whisky he’d poured for us. Cathy had refused. Dad and Amma didn’t drink, but instead of retiring to their room, this time they joined us in the family room.

Amma said something to Cathy in Tamil. I didn’t understand the language. Amma spoke both with equal ease, so it was very convenient when Srijan fell in love with Cathy, whose family was from Tamil Nadu. Now the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law had their own secret language, which worked excellently to exclude the men of the family. Dad didn’t speak Tamil, but I suspected he’d learned a few terms over the years. He chuckled at Amma’s words, and she threw him a quick reprimanding look.

“All right, let’s get on with it, then,” I said to Cathy.

Cathy frowned with annoyance that she had lost the upper hand in the conversation already.

“If you know why you are here, then you also know what I’m about to say,” she began.

I nodded and took a slow drink.

“It’s not healthy, Sujit. You are smarter than this.”

“Please elaborate,” I said, mainly to vex her, but I also wanted to get an insight into what exactly it was that I was doing wrong.

Cathy looked at Amma and said something. Amma nodded and said to Dad in Telugu, “It’s best if we let the kids talk alone.”

Dad sighed as he lifted himself out of the chair and gave me a reassuring nod. I nodded back.

“Srijan,” Cathy ordered and my brother took off just as swiftly.

“Well?” I said when I was alone with Cathy.

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