Chapter Seventeen
I awoke to find half my body hanging off the side of the bed, arms dangling freely like a corpse.
What time is it?
It was barely even eleven a.m. Way too early to deal with the day.
I turned the other way to find my pudgy cat Tommy sitting on my pillow. He looked angry.
“Hey precious, did anyone give you breakfast?” My words only came out in a whisper, as I’d clearly lost my voice from the night before.
His angry expression changed to widened eyes and a desperate meow.
After two stumbling attempts, I rose from my bed and in an instant my head started throbbing.
Here comes the hangover.
My stomach felt rotted and empty, but the simple thought of food set my vomiting cylinders in motion.
Whatever was churning inside I managed to send it back down, as I slowly made my way to the basement. I grabbed Tommy’s food dish and started to remember the events from the night before.
Blue T-shirt guy, feeling guilty for being an “almost-’ho,” El trying to arrange me with her Indian friend...oh yeah, THAT.
I poured some kibbles into Tommy’s bowl, as my emotional thermometer started rising. That bitch is just as bad as my parents. There was so much more I could’ve said to her last night, but all I could do was storm right out of the club. I remembered Amy and her boyfriend trying to stop me, but I almost knocked them over as I darted for the exit.
I also remembered the eighty-five dollar cab ride home, which could have been avoided if I’d slept over at Eleanor’s like I’d planned. On the other hand, eighty-five dollars so I didn’t have to see her face? Worth it.
The only thing I remembered after that, was stumbling into the house at three a.m.
I looked myself up and down.
At least I’d somehow managed to put on my pajamas.
I dragged myself up the stairs and back into bed. I was not going to deal with Eleanor today, but my parents would be home in a few hours. This only left me two more hours to rest, before I’d have to scrub off all the booze that was encrusted on my skin. So I drifted, all the way past drooly land, into the valley of slow rhythmic breathing, and right up to the doorstep of vivid dreams.
But then I remembered my car. My car that was sitting abandoned in the train station parking lot.
Dammit.
***
By four o’ clock my parents were comfortably home with their cups of tea in hand, and the television spewing out their favourite Indian soap opera. As for my car it was safely in the driveway now, but only after a twenty-dollar payment to my younger brother, since I’d forced him to crawl out of bed and drive me to the station.
Sitting in my room (and perfectly able to hear that goddamn Indian show), I cranked up the music on my laptop. A moment later I turned my attention to a script, an edited script that James had allowed me to preview. I was so excited to read the words that defined his biggest passion. I sank my teeth into page after page, captivated by every engrossing description.
His story was a tale of true love mixed with harsh realities; from social-class divide, to conflicting ambitions, to years apart, this script made the online thing seem easy.
Two hours later I sent him my reaction with some special encouragement. This script was going to be his worldwide breakthrough. It felt so good to know that, but even better to tell him in my very own words.
On the slightly negative side, he still hadn’t mentioned anything personal in his e-mails of late. I didn’t want to be greedy, as I very much appreciated the writing talk…but is that all we’d be from now on?
What about the flirting? And what about his visit to Canada?
***
I zipped in and out of the aisles of the liquor store, my eyes darting back and forth the entire time. Someone might’ve thought I was nervously preparing to rob the place, but my eyes were only darting to keep a close eye out for Indian people. Or Indian men to be exact, since Indian women weren’t supposed to drink, and therefore wouldn’t ever be seen in the aisles of a liquor store.
Which of course meant that neither should I.
Yet here I was, looking for the perfect bottle of wine for Jayla’s engagement party. Yes, my now-engaged rebellious Indian friend was back in Canada.
And she needed the perfect wine.
I tried to concentrate on wine labels, but I still couldn’t fathom that Jayla was even in the country. She’d announced her engagement in an e-mail seven months ago, and since then I’d gone from dead inside, to hopeless, to intrigued, to infatuated, to happy, to in love, to frustrated, to angry, and now to worried. Seven out of nine were attributed to James.
A lot had happened and she didn’t even know a thing about it. But in under an hour, I would get to know a lot about her. Her man, her ring, and her halo of happiness. If only I could introduce her to a man of my own: “Hey, do you mind logging into Facebook for a sec?” Right.
I eventually found a reasonably-priced bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, straight from the vineyards of Chile. To be honest I didn’t know shit about wine, but a “friend of a friend” had brought it to a party once, so I was sold.
I paid for the bottle and grabbed it in one fluid motion, excited to have made it through my liquor store visit without any Indian contact.
And that’s when I bumped into an Indian spy.
By “Indian” I meant he even wore a turban, just like my father once had. He stepped aside to let me pass, but not before eyeing the following: me, the bottle, then me once again. He may have even shaken his head in disapproval, but I didn’t wait around to find out for sure. How could I? Any longer and his brain would scan my face through his “Indian facial recognition program.” The last thing I needed was this man to find out who I was, so he could go and tell my dad that I had broken “prohibition for women.”
I unlocked my car and hurried in, to save myself from any further judgment by the Indian look-outs. Carefully placing the bottle in the passenger’s seat, I referred to Jayla’s e-mail print-out, complete with the directions to her parents’ house.
It wouldn’t take long to arrive at her house by five o’ clock on a Saturday. And all I had to do was be home by eleven. I was actually surprised by the generous curfew, but I suppose it had to do with Jayla being Indian. Not to mention that her parents would be there to chaperone.
Of course I didn’t feel the need to tell my parents she was marrying a white guy, or that her mother was a lover of the wine.
Details, details...
***
I turned the corner to Jayla’s street with my mouth gaping open. It was mansion after mansion, with manicured lawns expertly maintained, and a three-garage minimum standard.
As for Jayla’s home it did not disappoint. Four garages and a lawn complete with beautiful shrubbery.
And is that their Benz in the driveway?
I was shocked by the wealth of her parents. I’d worked with her every day for two whole years, and she’d never even mentioned it once.
I approached the huge double-doors with the heavy bronze-plated knocker. Or maybe it was pure bronze, what the hell did I know? Tapping it three times, I stood there and nervously waited.
No one came.
There were cars parked all along the street. Maybe it was hectic inside and no one could hear me.
I banged it again with double the force, and finally the door opened.
“DUDE!” she screamed.
It was Jayla, in a spaghetti-strap floral-printed dress, perfect for this warm autumn day which was more like the last bits of summer. And the jet-black hair draping down to her elbows? Well that was perfect too.
We suffocated each other in a hug, finally stopping for a breath ten seconds later.
“You look amazing!” I exclaimed.
“So do you Romes! I’m LOVING the pink lacey top, you’re so much girlier than I remember!”
Yeah well things are different now…I’m a woman in love.
She grabbed the bottle of wine from my hands, a motion that put her engagement ring into the spotlight. It was a beautiful rock, raised on a pedestal and sitting on a platinum band, which itself was adorned with six mini diamonds. Yet another perfect thing.
“Oh and by the way, why didn’t you ring the doorbell? When I walked by I thought someone was breaking down the door!” She snorted. “Loser.”
Oops. I shrugged my shoulders. “So listen, I have a question. Since when are you SUPER rich?”
Jayla shook her head. “I’M not rich. I live in Sydney where I only buy things on sale...but my parents? They do alright.” She winked and led me down the hall.
I walked through the enormous kitchen, which was marble countertops for miles. Meanwhile I smiled at the various strangers who were picking out their appetizers. A bunch of them were older and probably relatives, but there was also at least a dozen party-goers closer to my age. They might have been Jayla’s high school friends or university pals, but all in all they were a glowing and attractive bunch.
Jayla stopped at the patio door which led to a beautiful yard, complete with a deck, gazebo, and multiple lounge chairs surrounding a man-made pond. At least twenty people were already milling about, strolling through the yard and enjoying champagne.
Suddenly she steered me by the shoulders, and back in the direction of the appetizers. “Go eat some food, mingle with Laura and her SEXY boyfriend, and we’ll catch up later for a serious session. I just have to go downstairs and help the men.” She rolled her eyes. “Translation: my dad and Adrian can’t figure out how to unhook the speakers. We need some tunes outside dude!” She laughed and skipped down the stairs.
Laura’s already here? Laura and DAVE?
I’d been hearing about “gym-boy” for almost two months now, but had yet to finally meet him for myself. By now he was more than just a gym-boy, as Dave and Laura had been spending nearly all their extra time together. Coffees, dinners, romantic summer walks in the city, they’d been inseparable.
I couldn’t spot them in the yard, so I grabbed a plate and filled it with appetizers. I chose vegetables, chicken kebab, and a spring roll. It’s not THAT unhealthy. Then I grabbed a glass of champagne from a tuxedo-vested man serving drinks.
Dressed up servers and champagne? Do I even belong here?
With hands full I carefully made my way outside, bumping into an Indian granny as I did. The granny patted me on the shoulder, nodding and saying “Ohh!”
I had no idea who she was but I returned the smile, since I of course was a part of this wider clan. The Indian tribe.
I walked around the yard a bit, listening to people rave about the food or each others’ clothes. Eventually I settled in a chair by a trickling fountain. The sound of the water in conjunction with the singing birds, the warming sun, and the smell of flowers was altogether overwhelming. I closed my eyes to soak it all in.
“Well hello there.”
My eyes quickly opened, and standing above me was Laura in a loose brown halter top, beaded coral necklace and washed-out jeans. She looked earthy, tanned, and...the hell with Laura, what about this hottie with his arm around her waist?
He offered his hand and a smile. “Hi, you must be Romi. I’m Dave.”
I put down my glass and stood to shake his hand. I’d seen pictures of him, but the two-dimensional version didn’t do a thing for the original. He was muscular and tanned with a shaved head, perfect teeth, and the sort of cologne that made me feel like dropping these already low-rise jeans. He wasn’t that tall mind you, but the perfect height for my little Laura. Like a big brown bear hovering over Goldilocks.
Her perfect boyfriend...and I’m so damn jealous.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “I like your shirt.” Wow, what a loser thing to say.
“Yeah...thanks. Hey Laur, do you want another drink?”
“Thank you, I would love another drink. A vodka and---”
“Cranberry. Yeah, I remember.” He smiled at her and walked away.
Laura took a seat in the lounge chair next to mine. “So...what do you think?”
“Well I love that he calls you ‘Laur,’ and I’ll take him once you’re done. PLEASE?”
I laughed but it was hard to mask my own troubled yearning. I was feeling like the odd one out in this garden party of love.
Laura sighed. “I still don’t even know where he came from. How he randomly fell into my lap. I’d never even used a leg-press before! But I went for the machine, and so did he at the exact same second!”
“Well yay for leg-press machines!” I chugged back the glass of champagne, drowning my envy in the fizzling yellow bubbles.
“It just goes to show Romes, accidents do happen with a purpose. And that’s why they call it fate.” She smiled as I stared at my empty glass.
How inspiring, now where is Mr. Tuxedo and that tray of bubbly?
Dave returned carrying three fresh drinks in his colossal hands, including more champagne for me. Well this guy keeps getting more and more perfect.
We ate and drank and talked and laughed. I was emotionally removed from the experience, but mesmerized by his dazzling smile. His moving mouth on that three-dimensional head which was only two feet away…it was a fascinating concept.
Out of nowhere my ears flooded over with Indian music.
“I guess the speakers are all hooked up now. Does that mean Adrian’s here?” I craned my neck and looked around, but all I could see was a yard packed with up to fifty people by now. Like Dave, Adrian was a total hottie in pictures. But would his in-person presence drive me insane as well? I was hoping so, as eye-candy was all I had going for me tonight.
With the sun now set, the patio was glowing with pretty lanterns, candles, and strings of twinkly lights. Many of the revelers were relaxing in lounge chairs, with the rest tightly huddled in their personal party cliques. I heard the beginnings of applause, and joined in the clapping as I figured out the reason.
It was the couple of the night, coming down the steps hand-in-hand.
Adrian was everything I could’ve expected and more. Incredible build, dark brown hair, six feet tall, bright blue eyes and a wicked tan. I wiped a tear from my eye, not because I was overwhelmed by the romance, but only because this was officially the party of beautiful men, with everyone getting a slice except for me. But I forced on my smile as required.
At least they have an open bar.
***
“Do you know how much I LOVE the sound of crickets? Well actually I love the sound of anything when it’s mixed with a trickling fountain.”
“You are such a freak Romes.” Jayla laughed but didn’t even open her eyes. It was nine thirty now, and most of us were sprawled out on various lounge chairs or even grass, with the speeches now over and our bellies full of food.
“Hey Jay, how come Indian music at YOUR house doesn’t sound annoying?” Far from annoying, I actually liked this slow-paced Hindi duet.
“You like it because you don’t have to like it. ‘Cause here you won’t be judged if you switch it to Madonna. You’d be surprised how much you like the Indian culture, when it’s not being shoved down your throat.”
“But you’re marrying a white guy. With a hot Australian accent by the way. Isn’t that the opposite of liking your culture?”
I opened my eyes as I heard her sit up fast.
“Here’s the thing,” she said, arms folded and eyes now intense. “When you’re far away from Indian culture, and instead just absorbing a totally different vibe - like I’ve been doing with my WHITE dude in Australia - you start to see where you come from a little better. You know...seeing the forest from the trees? Like I’ve been begging my mom to teach me how to cook all her Indian food. But I barely have the time to even learn it anymore!”
My eyes widened. “Are you kidding? Any time my mom tries to make me cook Indian food she starts off scolding. You know, how I’ll never be a good wife because I can’t make Indian food. Or she’ll complain that so many other Indian girls know how to cook, even though they’re younger than me. That’s how she BEGINS the lesson.” I sighed and rolled my eyes.
“That’s because you’re being judged on a single standard. Marry a well-off Indian guy, or fail. I can see how it might be a turn-off.”
“Which brings me to my only real question for you,” I said. “How are your parents smiling and laughing, when you’re about to marry a white guy, and spend the rest of your life living thousands of miles away?”
Riddle me THAT.
Jayla shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. “Believe me, they weren’t smiling or laughing when I told them. In the end though, it was down to a couple of choices: accept me, or disown me.”
I smiled. “Wow, that’s my favourite ultimatum ever. Can I use that?”
“You mean….can you use it on your parents when you tell them about JAMES?” Jayla raised an eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
How the hell does she know about James?
“Let’s just say that Laura and I had a little chat.” She winked and grabbed her glass of wine. “So is there anything else I should know about Mr. Caldwell, before I offer up my advice?”
One deep breath and a huge run-on sentence later, I gave her all the details I could think of, ending with my latest concern on his visit or no-visit plans.
“Okay, I’m ready to weigh in.” She took a sip of wine and leaned in close, so our faces were inches apart. “I went to Thailand with no expectations. Then I met Adrian, and we spent two incredible weeks together. Afterwards we went our separate ways, not expecting much to be honest.” She set down her glass and grabbed both my arms. “It should’ve been over, but the e-mails and phone calls began. That had to mean something, right?I was always honest about how I felt, and willing to put in the effort. I’m not sure we’d have made it if my pride had gotten in the way. Do you see what I’m saying?”
I stared at her blankly. “Dude, I’m drunk. You have to give me the dumb-girl version.”
She released one arm and patted me on the shoulder. “What I’m saying is...I don’t know your whole situation, but if you put in all your effort and stay honest, how can you go wrong? I just don’t think that James would’ve talked to you this long for nothing.” She squeezed my other arm. “So why are you suddenly afraid he’s avoiding you on a personal level?”
I quickly nodded. “You’re so right! And he’s finalizing his script right now…I bet he’s really busy. But try telling that to my bitch of a friend.” My blood began to boil at the mention of Eleanor, who I hadn’t said a word to in the last seven days.
“Huh?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. So here’s what happens now. I’m going to call James next week.” I smiled. “And he’s GOING to tell me when he’s visiting. I want a flight number, I want an itinerary…” I paused. “And I want my damn first date.”
I stretched back out on the lounge chair. What a relief it was, to have a friend with some real-world advice.
If it worked for Jayla it has to work for me.
“Hey...” Jayla trailed off and seemed confused. “Where the hell did Dave and Laura go?”
I looked around the yard but couldn’t see them. “I’m sure they’re around. Maybe they’re inside. Or maybe they’re in a closet getting frisky.” And why wouldn’t they? It was one of the perks of being close enough to touch.
Jayla’s eyes nearly sprung from their sockets. “Laura getting freaky at someone else’s party? I don’t think so.”
Before she could finish laughing, Laura and Dave emerged from inside, hand-in-hand and looking rather flush.
No way.
“Hey guyyys.” Jayla wore a sly smile, and mouthed the word “slut!” to Laura when Dave wasn’t looking. I only pointed to her shirt, which was no longer tucked into her jeans.
As she frantically tucked it in, Adrian emerged from inside, settling beside Jayla in what was now a stunning image: one hot couple to my left, one hot couple to my right.
It was a fifth-wheel moment that left me with two final options:
-To sell my soul to the highest bidder, or to make sure that James got his ass on a plane.
But let’s not forget a third special choice: volunteer my genitals to science, and forget about this dating thing for good...
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