Page 6 of The Bodyguard Proposal

Shreya’s Daughter Gets In a Scrap Where and When You Wouldn’t Believe.

“I’ll pull out his teeth with my bare hands.”

Reena bounces on her feet. “Too dark and too far, Nim, but also yes.”

I glance desperately around until I lock eyes with a bodyguard. Not Huan, but someone who snaps to attention. My voice goes pitchy as I screech, “Please escort these guests out of here!”

Before anything else can happen, the influencers are pushed efficiently out the door. Nim scowls at their departure, and I’m fairly sure it’s on my behalf and not because she was committed to her dental extraction plan.

Reena pushes a hand through her short hair. “You’re not boring. They don’t know what they are talking about.”

Reena’s efforts at making me feel better are appreciated, but my stomach still twists. “Don’t you say I need to get out of my comfort zone?” I point out. “Because I’m always eating the same food and hanging out at the same café and wearing the same clothes, which sounds pretty boring when I say it out loud, doesn’t it?”

“You’re comfortable.” Reena lays a land on my arm. “That’s different. And anyway, there’s a massive change happening in your life. You’re going to be an actress.”

I scratch my arm. “Right.”

“You okay?” Nim asks.

It’s a loaded question that I don’t have a straight answer for, but I want this night to end, so I repeatedly reassure my friends I am “okay” before we split up for the evening. I’m just glad no one else saw what happened, and that my mother has already left to retire upstairs. She’s got an “always leave the party early to leave them wanting” strategy that works.

When the guards are ready to sweep our property to guide out any other stragglers, I go upstairs myself. Cleaners will come by in the morning to do the rest.

As I leave signs of the party behind, my adrenaline wanes further. Only then do I recognize the hollow pang in my chest. Everything is handed to me. I didn’t get this movie on my own. I still don’t know how I feel about it, and in the back of my mind, I’m worried about the best way forward. My existential crisis worsens as I wonder, Do I not know myself or what I want because I always overthink… or is over-analyzing part of my real self?

Who am I when no one is watching? Why don’t I know the answer to that question? Why can’t I tell if I’m happy right now or not?

I push the questions away while walking into my mother’s bedroom and taking a seat beside her at the vanity. After hugging me, she hands me a fluff ball dampened with mineral oil, and I start the process of removing my makeup. I dab around my eye like she’s taught me to. The skin is delicate so if it folds too much, wrinkles stay. On the counter are bottles of products in the order we’ll use them: foam cleanser, exfoliant, toner, essence, serum, eye cream, moisturizer, night cream.

After everything, our skin will be glass. Luminous, poreless, and translucent.

“There’s a real chance you’re going to be a household name.” A flatter cotton pad lifts off part of her red lipstick. “And you’ve been around movies so much of your life,” she adds, “it will surprise you how natural being a part of this world feels.”

“This is different,” I say before she can segue into a motivational speech. “Back then, I was only following you around.”

“Remember how you used to climb into my lap whenever I was in wardrobe and makeup? You wouldn’t stop until they dusted makeup onto your cheeks. I can still hear your laughter as you pretended to practice your own lines. That’s when I knew that you would sit in your own chair one day.”

Her words paint a story I don’t remember. What I remember from set are jostling hands, pinched cheeks, and a lot of time waiting outside what, at that time, felt like an amusement park ride I was too short to ride.

Her light brown eyes meet my black ones.

We don’t look like each other in the mirror, but we never are going to.

“Komal, I’ve never pushed you into the industry because of how it can exploit young women.” My mom sounds uncharacteristically hesitant. “But then, this movie came out of nowhere, and the mother-daughter parts are character-driven andsogood, and us working together is a perfect way for me to watch over you.”

She’s got a face that is soft on camera. Approachable heroine-next-door and the gamine air of her rounded eyes.

“It’s normal to be nervous. Just know… I’ll be right there with you. I mean, if it’s okay with you? If this was a good surprise? Was it, Komal? Or did I mess it all up?”

This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Something she has taken great energy and time to put together for me. A perfect first project. Who doesn’t dream of being in movies? Me? I don’t know. I feel as if I’m halfway entering an elevator and I don’t know whether to get on or off, but the door keeps trying to close, and that gives me anxiety.

I simply nod. Because I’ve got, literally, no other plans I can articulate about my future. I’m a person who is privileged and can have anything she wants, but somehow I’ve been floundering these last few years. Why shouldn’t I try this new direction out? Considering the amazing life my mother has given me through all her hard work, don’t I owe her that? To try this? To stop being such an anxious over-thinker always?

She claps her hands. “I can’t wait until we start pre-production in five weeks.”

“Wait, I have time? Before all this starts?”

“Of course you have time.”

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