Hita (7 page)

Meredith plans a big Thanksgiving dinner at her place, but I’m going home. Not wanting to use my precious vacation days for visiting family, I fly to Chicago on Thursday, just in time for Thanksgiving dinner—Indian style. The table is set and a bunch of family friends are already over. I’m greeted with lots of hugs and kisses. My brother, who is currently in his senior year of college, is already there.

Since everyone attending is a vegetarian my mom doesn’t roast a turkey. She has prepared all the American Thanksgiving specialties, including cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie, though most of the meal consists of vegetarian Indian specialties.

On Friday morning I challenge my brother to a game of ping pong. All my practicing at work has paid off. I beat him easily, every game. Every time I beat him he gets a little bit angrier. His returns get harder, but not more accurate. I’m so used to playing with guys, the speed has no effect. He finally throws down his paddle and storms up the stairs.

My mother comes over to me saying, “Men don’t like it when they lose, especially to women.”

Furious at her for that comment, I respond, “Well then I think they have some work to do on their attitudes because I’m sure not going to swing a game to placate some guys ego.”

“Hita, you need to tone down the feminism or you’re never going to be happy in a marriage,” she replies.

“I’d rather be single than live with a man who doesn’t respect me and isn’t proud of my achievements,” I answer back.

Shaking her head Mom says, “Hita, what am I going to do with you?”

“Support me, be proud of me, but I’m not going to be sold down the river to some guy who doesn’t get me.”

“Hita, how do you make it in California with that attitude?”

Shocked at her thinking, I respond back, “I’m doing well. I have a great group of friends. I actually play ping pong against a group of guys. They like me, they even respect me, and I never would consider throwing a game for their egos.”

“Are any of them nice Indian boys from a good family?”

Exasperated I respond, “What is it with you trying to marry me off? Can’t I explore being single for awhile?”

My mother’s arms are now crossed over her chest and she has a concerned look on her face. She runs a science lab. How can she be so sexist?

Heading up to my childhood bedroom, I lie down on my bed. I pull out my phone and check Facebook, Instagram, and texts. There are pictures from Meredith’s Thanksgiving dinner. The other princesses were there. So was Sam’s friend, Ben. Good thing Isabelle is traveling. She had an on and off thing with Ben for years. By our senior year, just mentioning his name gave her hives.

Thinking about Isabelle is good luck. She stopped teaching English in China and is now traveling around Australia. She posted a great selfie on a boat in Cairns with a whole story about diving in the Great Barrier Reef.

Savi’s parents are having a big traditional dinner at their house tonight so everyone can meet Arav’s family, since now they’re engaged. With a party like this, everyone comes dressed up in their best traditional clothes. My mom calls me into her room. I follow her into her closet. She has all her saris carefully folded and stored. She pulls out a sari for me to wear. It includes a deep yellow silk slip called a pavadai and a matching short sleeve midriff baring blouse called a choli. The actual sari is nine feet of high quality saffron colored silk with elaborate sand script patterns embroidered in bright yellow along one side. Mom wraps the material twice around my waist with the loose end of the drape thrown over my shoulder, baring my midriff. I’m glad I’ve been riding my bike and playing ping pong all summer long because my stomach is completely showing, and I’d hate to have it all flabby and hanging out. My mom also has matching silk slippers and big dangly chandelier earrings for me to wear. She, too, wears a sari; hers is almost the reverse of mine—bright yellow silk with an orange to red ombré embroidered design.

My mom wears her mangalsutra, a fancy gold necklace my father gave her when they got married, it has similar significance to a wedding ring. She makes sure I don’t wear any necklace. I’m sure this is so all the mom’s on Arav’s side know I’m available. After dressing, we join my brother and dad downstairs. Dad’s been patiently reading, while my brother’s playing games on his iPhone. They’re both dressed in a traditional Indian Kurta, a long silk tunic elaborately embroidered with gold designs. It comes with matching pants and a churidar, a type of long scarf.

When I get to Savi’s she immediately sees me, and with a little squeal gives me a big hug. Figuring one argument in a day is more than enough, I give her a big smile and say, “I’m thrilled for you. I hope he is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She smiles and replies, “Thank you for that.”

Grabbing my hand she pulls me into their family room and over to a good looking, well-built guy in his twenties. With a sweet, shy smile she says, “Arav, this is my good childhood friend, Hita.”

Arav smiles and with an American accent politely says, “Hita, Savi always speaks so well of you. I’m glad to have finally met you.”

Arm in arm Savi takes me around, introducing me to Arav’s family. Heading back towards the kitchen both our moms are talking to each other. I put my arm around my mom’s shoulders softly saying, “Mom, I love you.”

My mom pets my hand warmly. As she says to Savi’s mom, “We were so proud when Hita got into such a good school. Now she lives so far away. I never had any appreciation for what my mother went through when I moved to this country.”

The conversation quickly moves to auspicious dates for getting married and all the details of creating the proper Indian wedding.

Flying back from Chicago early Monday morning, I actually beat some of my co-workers to the office. At lunch Kami and Caroline are bubbling over with new gossip. It turns out their boss, Sherri, got engaged over Thanksgiving break. What I find surprising is her fiancé is one of the engineers over in the Hadoop group.

I think back to what Juliette’s mom said about companies liking stable relationships. They both work in Engineering, but neither of them report to each other or really have any need to interface at work. This makes me wonder what’s going on with Terri. It’s been a few months since she got her promotion, and is now working for her boyfriend. Either things are working out well, or there are simmering problems.

At our weekly meeting there’s a new guy in the room. Roger starts out by reporting, “We had another mini reorganization within Engineering. Get used to it, guys. We’re growing and expanding. Sid’s constantly going to be tinkering with our groups.” Roger actually smiles. “I’m happy to say that all this shuffling has brought our group another ace developer.” He introduces Jim, a physicist by training and from what the other guys say when welcoming him to our group, a well thought of “macho” developer.

Roger continues, “I’m also getting a couple new recs this June. Flint wants our teams to be balanced between experienced developers and those right out of grad school.” He asks the group, “We had Rajive work with us this summer. I think we can get an H-1B for him. I’m opening this up; do you think we should offer him a job?”

Since Rajive spent almost three months working with us, it’s not like we need to interview him. We spend the next half an hour discussing his skills and weaknesses. I’ve never been on this side of the hiring table. It’s interesting to hear what everyone has to say. Roger finishes it up with, “We’ll vote next meeting on if we offer him a job.”

***

At ping pong I’m locked in a battle with Colin. Since we’re similar in skill, our matches go on for a long time. When I beat him he doesn’t get all mad and pout like my brother. After swearing when he loses, he usually gives me a high five and tells me I’m a star.

After a competition where I win I tell him, “I’m tempted to have someone record the game so I can send it to my mom.”

“What? She doesn’t know you play ping pong?”

“Oh no, we have a ping pong table in our basement. When I was home over Thanksgiving I annihilated my brother. He got so pissed off.” I can’t help from smiling as I think about winning. Colin gives me a look that says, “so?” I continue, “My mom told me I should lose to guys because their egos can’t handle a woman beating them.”

Colin gives me a surprised look. “No way. I think the only thing worse than losing to you would be to know you let me win.”

I fist bump Colin as I say, “Yeah, my mom doesn’t get it.”

Colin walks over to the drink refrigerator, “Hita, you want a mineral water? Let me guess, orange?”

“One day I’m going to choose something other than orange. Will that really shock you?”

Colin laughs as he hands me my drink. “Hita, you choosing grape will rock my world.”

He then clinks our bottles. “To being a good competitor.”

***

At lunch each day, Caroline regales us with her frustrations chasing after Bobby. I’m wondering who in their relationship the bigger idiot is. Bobby, who’s obviously not that into her but seems to show up way too often for booty calls, or Caroline who spends too much time chasing a guy who is not giving her what she wants.

Kami and I shoot each other looks every time a Bobby story is told. Whenever we attempt to talk reason into Caroline, she gets a pinched look around her mouth and makes some excuse for him. I figure eventually one of them will get tired of this stupid game and they’ll move on to someone else.

Mark shows up at work using a messenger bag. This is very urban chic for backpack toting engineer, Mark. I’m not even the one who first notices the change as the guys start chiding him asking if he’s part of the Marketing re-org.

Ian actually says, “I think those things lower your IQ.”

In response Mark shakes his head at us. Mark is a guy you can’t rile up. Though I’ve noticed since he’s started bringing Buddy to work there have been a number of small changes in how he dresses and his grooming. I check out his hand. He’s not wearing a band. You never know with these guys. They’re so uncommunicative they could get married and have five kids and never tell anyone. Guys don’t spontaneously change their looks. I bet Buddy, a decent haircut, new clothes, and now the messenger bag, are all style updates courtesy of a serious girlfriend.

Our company has been exceeding its revenue targets as a growing number of large organizations start integrating our services into how they do business. Since the money is pouring in, our executives decide to throw a big blow out Christmas party. From what I understand, they’ve hired professional party people to pull it all together. We each can bring a date. It’s the first time since my dinner catastrophe that I wish Anil and I were still together. Asking around, I think most of the people I know will go stag.

They decide to hold the party up in San Francisco using the company busses to bring the Silicon Valley workers up. The word in the office is the party will be dressy. Since I only have a few summer sun dresses, and my one pair of black interview pants, I head over to Olivia’s for some consultation. Luckily, Olivia is only an inch shorter than me since I’d never be able to borrow anything if tiny Isabelle was the princess with the killer closet.

Olivia thinks it’s hysterical that I’m going to dress up. She’s only seen me in jeans, shorts, and sneakers, missing out on my black pants and ballet flats for my job interview period. Pulling out a number of elegant designer dresses, I have to ask her, “Where do you even wear these outfits?”

“My mom’s a recreational shopper. She’s always sending me stuff. To her the world is Manhattan. She doesn’t get that my friends are all wearing sneakers and jeans out to bars and restaurants.”

Though at some level, I think it’s more than that since sneakers and jeans is not a look Olivia rocks.

Looking me over, Olivia holds up shoes that have a four inch spike heal, finally saying, “I can’t see you wearing these.”

Looking at those monstrosities all I can say is, “I agree, I already tower over everyone.”

She then contends, “We’ll need to find something that works with your ballet flats.”

“Back home whenever we go anyplace fancy, I dress up in one of my mom’s saris.”

Surprised, Olivia says, “Really, you dress up in a sari to go out for dinner?”

“Not dinner, parties. All my parents’ friends are Indian. We get dressed up traditionally to go to weddings and Indian parties.” Thinking about it, I continue, “When I was thirteen I wore a dress when I went to my friend’s bat mitzvah.”

Olivia shakes her head as she chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re rocking any of those dresses anymore.”

She pulls out a couple of dressy tops that will work well with pants. I veto anything that’s too revealing, finally settling on a top that’s form fitting and kind of flowy all at the same time. Since I’m taller than her with a couple additional inches in my legs, my flats work with her fancy pants.

***

On the night of the party, as I drive to the office, I feel kind of relieved that Olivia didn’t convince me to look too sexy. It would be weird dressing like that with all the guys I work with. Most of the people I work with live in Silicon Valley. It must be the marketing folks who live in San Francisco, I think, as I watch the guys in my group show up. Not surprisingly, Mark shows up with a girlfriend. He introduces her as Janet, a cute, fashionable, Asian-American woman.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring Buddy?” I sarcastically comment.

Janet gives Mark sweet, love filled eyes as she says, “Mark’s been a real life saver. My neighbors were all complaining about Buddy’s barking.” With a warm rub to Mark’s back she says, “Now I’m starting to wonder if he moved in to spend more time with me or Buddy.”

Yeah, I knew it. She’s what’s behind the dog. I bet she bought him the messenger bag. I innocently ask, “What prompted changing from a backpack to a messenger bag?”

Janet tells me with a conspiratorial tone, “That old backpack of his was not very functional.” While rubbing his back again, she gives him a sweet smile, “Isn’t that messenger bag so much better?”

Mark tips his shoulder giving a look of indifference.

The party is held in the Presidio Golden Gate Club. The theme is a Monte Carlo night. I think they could hire three engineers for what this spread costs, as we’re met at the front doors by a couple of guys on stilts dressed in black pants, white shirts, and vests. Upon entering, the room is quite striking. It’s sleek, modern, with high ceilings, and large windows. The whole center of the large room is filled with different types of games. Some are games of chance manned by a croupier, while others are classic arcade games manned by an attendant. Servers are walking around with drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Dining tables all laid out with fancy gambling themed arrangements on them ring around the game area. The perimeter of the room is filled with food tables. Passing on the carving station and the seafood station, I’m glad to see they have an assortment of vegetarian options, along with drinks.

I spot Kami before I see Carolyn. The first thing Kami says is, “Carolyn’s all upset. She went to Bobby’s Christmas party, but he canceled last minute on our party, even after saying he would come.”

This news isn’t unexpected since he sounds like an opportunistic dick. Though, I’m shocked how low he really has gotten.

I wind up joining Chris and Avery as we play the different games. We run into Colin from ping pong. Not surprising for a tall, good looking guy with a great job, he has a pretty blond girlfriend in tow. He introduces her as Emily as we all end up at the same blackjack table.

The croupier tells us, “I’ve never staffed a table with so many ringers before.”

Chris tells him, “I’m not surprised. Most of the people who work here either have a degree in engineering, physics, or math. Those professions are not big into most forms of gambling since we can calculate the numbers.

“We tend to play games where the odds are on our side. Did you know Ian paid for college by playing poker? Eventually got run out of Las Vegas for counting,” Avery says.

“Are you sure it wasn’t for his personality?” I question.

Chris counters, “I don’t think they mind obnoxious people in Las Vegas.”

Emily keeps on losing. Finally, Colin leans over and says to Emily, “Hey baby, that hand is good, I’d hold it.”

Not knowing what her cards are, I see Emily get an annoyed look on her face as she asks the dealer for another card.

When Emily puts her cards down, she shows two nines. Avery starts laughing. Colin gives him a look that says, “please don’t make this worse than it is.” Chris, though, starts egging her on as we move to craps, a totally ridiculous game to play, statistically speaking that is.

Emily tells me in a completely serious voice, “You know you can’t roll the same numbers twice in a row.”

I’m completely dumfounded by that remark as I respond, “You realize that they’re just little plastic cubes. One roll has absolutely no effect on the next roll.”

She gives me a curious look before heading to the head of the table where she sticks out her boobs and waves wildly so they’ll let her roll the dice.

Avery leans into me and says, “Don’t worry, Hita, she won’t be vying for your job.”

Colin adds, “Yeah, math is not Emily’s thing.”

As we watch Emily get all excited about the dice she’s rolling, Colin bumps me with his elbow. “Hita, you have a good head for games. You’re a strategic player.”

“You’re saying that because I beat you the other day.”

“Yeah, I am saying it because you beat me the other day. Your shots aren’t as fast as the guys, but you make it up by being quick and smart. If I won too often against you, I’d think you were pandering to me.”

“What, you like women who are a challenge?”

He looks at me for too long as he nods. There’s a strange energy that passes between us. It abruptly ends when Emily comes back after losing. She gives me a funny look as she drags Colin away.

What’s really sweet about all the gaming is when you win you get tickets. They have a booth where you can turn your tickets in for really cool things, like iPods, Chrome books, and Kindles. As we leave, everyone is given a leather bomber jacket with our company logo embroidered on it. Since the jackets were expensive, they actually asked people their size preference before ordering them. The swag folks did a great job, also providing a sleek women’s version. It’s my first work garment that doesn’t look like it’s really for a guy.