Priya in Heels (Entangled Embrace) (10 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Priya

Since Ty was still asleep on the couch, I kept quiet while making coffee. Keys jingled in the front door. Vicki walked in with two grocery bags. When she saw Ty, her eyes widened to the size of lemons. It wasn’t until she left the door open and my parents walked in that I understood her overreaction.

I froze behind the counter, still in my short shorts and tank, which Mummie considered half-naked and indecent. I’d completely forgotten that they were coming to town.

“Look who I ran into downstairs,” Vicki said through tight lips.

“Mummie! Papa!” I managed to push out. I had nothing to be ashamed of or anything to hide.

They smiled and took off their shoes.

“How are you?” Mummie asked in Gujarati.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ty stir.

“Who…who is this?” Mummie asked. Her tone was half-fearful and half-restrained politeness, as if I had been doing something bad.

“Yes, please explain why a man is sleeping here,” Papa added dryly.

Ty awoke and sat up. He ran a hand through his hair and down his face before flinching.

“This is Tyler,” I explained. “He lives down the hall.”

“Did you lock yourself out, young man?” Papa asked.

“No, sir.” Ty stood and folded the blanket. He looked at me to give me the lead in the way of explanations.

“Did something happen?” Papa asked.

I groaned. “Yes, but please don’t get upset.”

“
Udde yaar
! You’ve been…doing things…!” Mummie played the drama card and clutched her chest.

“Oh God, no. I was attacked last night.” I wrung my fingers.

“Are you okay,
beti
?” Mummie ran to me and checked my face before pulling me into an embrace. “Your face is bruised!”

“Yesh,” I mumbled into Mummie’s hair, which didn’t help the pain in my cheek.

“What happened? Did you call the police?” Papa asked, suddenly beside Mummie.

“Oh my little girl. We should have never let you live on your own.”

I pulled back. “I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt too badly. Tyler happened to be on his way home and heard me scream. He stepped in, and they stabbed him with a knife and ran off.”

“Oh,
yaar
!” Mummie exclaimed and went to Ty, checking his face as if that was the only place on the body where telltale signs of injury lingered.

He chuckled. “I’m okay, really, thanks. Priya fixed me up.”

“Did you call the police?” Papa pressed.

“Yes. They came over and we filed a report, but I don’t think those guys will come around here again,” Ty replied.

“You don’t know that. Did they see where you live, or which apartment complex you live in?”

“No. They ran off way before we started home.”

“I don’t like this! You’re not safe here.” Mummie returned to me.

“Crime happens everywhere,” I said. “This is still a good area.”

“Sit down. You’re traumatized.”

“I’m not traumatized.”

“Thank you for saving my daughter. You’re a good boy,” Mummie said to Ty.

“Is there anything we can do to repay you?” Papa asked.

My cheeks turned warm.
Please don’t pull out the wallet
.

Ty waved a hand. “No, no. There’s no such thing as payback. I’m glad I was there.”

“Me, too. Are you sure there’s nothing we can do for you?”

Ty parted his lips, his gaze landing on me, as if he were about to ask Papa for his permission to date me. But Ty wasn’t old school, and he didn’t care if my parents gave him permission to date me or not. He closed his mouth and shook his head. “No. I guess I should get going. Priya’s safe and sound.”

“Why don’t you stay for
nastho
, err, breakfast, Indian style,” Papa offered. “We’d like to get to know the man who saved our daughter.”

“Yeah, that’d be okay.” Ty didn’t look at me for confirmation, not that he would’ve asked for it, anyway.

I hurried into a pair of sweatpants and stepped into the kitchen to help Mummie, somehow hoping to avoid any personal questions about me and Ty.

“You sit and I’ll make
cha
, Mummie. You’ve had a long drive.”

“Such a sweet girl you are.”

Instead of sitting, Mummie dished up bowls of curried, fried puffed rice and lentils, and plates of fried dough in the shape of thin circles called
mathiya
. With so much fried and sugary cuisine in India, no wonder our people were prone to diabetes and heart attacks.

Papa murmured most of his side of the conversation with Ty. He patted him on the shoulder as if telling him, “Job well done.”

Ty flinched at the pat.

Papa instantly pulled back. “Oh, sorry.”

“Have you spoken with Manuk?” Mummie asked as I stirred the rising foam of
cha
in the saucepan; a mixture of water, milk, loose Indian black tea, sugar, and a hint of masala. When it boiled for the sixth time, I turned off the heat and filtered the
cha
through a strainer into four teacups already set on saucers.

“How quaint,” Ty muttered as he picked up a teacup, pinky awkwardly out, and sipped. He looked at me over the steaming rim. Did the room suddenly get hot?

“Vicki, will you join us?” Mummie asked.

Vicki offered a warm smile but shook her head as she finished arranging her groceries. She took my elbow when Ty’s explanation about something stole Mummie’s and Papa’s attention. We huddled in the hallway.

“Are you okay?” Vicki asked.

I nodded, forcing the tears to stay away.

“Is there something to hide with…?” Vicki whispered.

“No.”

“Better not be, because Tyler is not keen about lying about something he’s not ashamed of. Thank God I had groceries to miss their fire of questions, and they probably assume I went out this morning to get some things and came right back instead of having been gone all night. They’ll never know you spent the night alone with him. I’m so sorry about last night. You should’ve told me. I would’ve ditched Tulsi or dragged her here.”

I shushed her and returned to the kitchen. I ate slowly but gave Ty the eye to eat faster and hightail his glorious butt out of here.

“Why are you being so rude?” Mummie asked.

“Huh?” Crap, she’d caught the looks.

“He saved your life. Be more grateful.
Tsk
!” She shoved more
nastho
onto Ty’s plate. “Here,
beta
, eat some more. You’re so thin.”

Like hell he was. Still, Mummie had a point. Ty had saved me, and all he’d asked for was a measly kiss. Those guys might have done much worse to me. A mugging was nothing. Money, keys, phone, anything material was replaceable. But a beating, rape, death?

Papa rubbed my shoulder and pulled me into him. He wasn’t prone to physical affection, or even verbal affection compared to Americans, so his concern shook me even more. “
Beti
…”

I tried not to cry. Papa had this way of reducing me into a blubbering woman-child. I sucked it up and batted my eyelashes to soak up the tears before Ty had the mind to jump up from his chair and hug me. He had that look in his eyes, one filled with soothing concern and the need to hold me, protect me, which scared me because it seemed as if Ty had real feelings for me, much more than crotch-throbbing flirtation.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ty asked, leaning over the edge of the counter and around Papa to meet my eyes.

“Yes.”

“You’re safe. You know that.”

“Yes.”

“So, Tyler,” Papa said and I paused. Here it went. I hadn’t had any guy friends meet Papa when I was a teenager, but it was bound to happen at some point.

“Yes, sir.”

“‘Sir’? That’s something you don’t hear from Americans.”

Already he differentiated us from Tyler. I grimaced. Papa wasn’t a harsh man, but sometimes his words came out that way. In this case, pointedly.

“Well, I was raised a little ‘old school.’ ” He smiled and Papa warmed up.

“You live across the hall?”

“Yes.”

Papa lifted a brow that seemed more like a warning.

“I moved in not too long ago, but I met Priya when she treated my ankle in the ER.”

“She’s a good doctor, no?”

“She’s great.” Ty gave me a lingering sidelong glance that pinned me in place when I should’ve ignored him, so I fiddled with my breakfast.

“
Hmm
.” Papa also gave me a lingering, studious look. “What do you do for work?”

And here was the steel-toed shoe to kick some sense into me. No matter that Ty was white, and oh lord, had I actually kissed him last night? But he wasn’t good enough for me, according to the social and cultural laws of Indian parents.

With a humble and sincere smile, Ty replied, “I’m an astrophysicist at NASA.”

Everyone stared at him.

“You weren’t joking about that?” I asked.

“Why would I joke about that?”

I shrugged. “You always laugh when you say you work at NASA.”

“No, I don’t. You just think I work at bars.”

“You go to bars?” Mummie glared at me.

“No! He means restaurants where they have bars and live music. He plays in a band,” I replied defensively.

“You are young,” Papa said to Ty. “That’s impressive.”

“I just happen to be good at it. If it were any harder, I wouldn’t be with NASA. I’m fortunate to have found my calling.”

“Maybe the next time we’re in town, you can show us where you work? I’ve always wanted to visit NASA.”

“I’d love to. You can knock on my door anytime.”

“Thank you. And thank you eternally for saving Priya.”

“I’m glad I was there.” His lingering glances did funny things to my skipping heart.

“Well, are you done?” I took Ty’s empty dishes when he nodded. I could not let those exhilarating explosions in my chest manifest in my facial expressions for my parents to see. He had to get out.

He stood and shook Papa’s hand. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Patel, and you, ma’am.” He tapped an invisible hat and spoke with a strong drawl. “I wish the circumstances were better.”

“Thank you again.” Papa touched Ty’s arm this time with the handshake.

After he nodded at Mummie, I walked him to the door, holding it open a crack so that I concealed the view.

He tilted his head to the side, placed a hand on my hip, and whispered, “Nothing to fear, babe. You’re safe.”

With a brief rub of his thumb against my waist, he left.

“When are you getting engaged,
beti
?” Mummie asked Vicki when she reappeared to get a drink.

Vicki blushed, her eyes darting between all three of us. “When the time comes, ya’ll be the first to know.” She gave Mummie a side hug and retired to her room.

“Ready for
mandir
?” Papa asked.

Of course I wasn’t ready, but I got ready and fast. While Papa wore the slacks and button-up shirt he came to town in, Mummie changed into a red sari, and I wore a green sari. Together, we looked like Christmas.

The Houston
mandir,
one of the largest and most elaborate temples in the United States, was hosting a few lengthy celebrations that weekend. Strands of lights curled around pillars. Sheets of silk were swathed around altar bases and wrapped around Hindu deities adorned with gold. The cafeteria was clamorous with hundreds of people, the volunteers who cooked, served, and cleaned, and the patrons who came to eat.

My parents and I took our plastic plates and utensils and ate at a nearby table. The volunteers had given us heaping amounts of rice, curried vegetables,
dhal,
puri
, and sweets, enough for one serving to be enough. No one wanted to appear greedy by getting seconds.

“Do you remember the
mandirs
in India?” Mummie asked.

“Yes,” I replied. We’d traveled to India after my high school graduation and again in the summer between UT and med school.

Mummie looked past the other beautifully dressed people and reminisced. “This food is good, but the food in India…spectacular. The sweets alone…”

My mouth watered. No matter the recipes and imported ingredients here in the U.S., the food in India was better, richer, deeper. The way the sugary, buttery sweets tasted with a mouthful of a spicy meal was heaven on Earth.

After the meal, Papa parted from us girls to meet some of his business associates and friends. The men and boys sat on one side of the grand praying room. As always, I remained close to Mummie unless I saw friends, but today, my friends weren’t here.

“Why did I wear a sari?” I murmured. The sari was restrictive when trying to sit crossed-legged on a hard, marble floor. I should have gone with a
salwar kameez
like most sensible girls.

“Because you are of a marrying age. Women wear saris.”

“Right. My reason for being here isn’t to worship and eat but to catch the eye of some man.”

Mummie cocked her chin to the side, pointing out some guy. “He looks nice, and no ring…”

“What about Manuk?”

“Aha! Manuk has your attention, then. I very much like him. I see no reason why you wouldn’t. Am I wrong?”

I kept my eyes low as the priests sang mantras, hoping Mummie would end the conversation now that the ceremony began. She did.

Finally, the hard part of just sitting there passed. Walking around was déjà vu. As a teenager, I had relished the attention of boys, and there were many cuties at
mandir
. As a college student, I’d noticed the hotter ones, though most of them hadn’t noticed me. In med school, when I had transformed from liberated and protected child to possible future wife, I’d clung to Mummie’s arm. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it showed guys I was still immature, or a mama’s girl, or hopefully, told them not to give me the googly eye or get near because mama bird would attack.

Now, I turned up my chin, looked away with a subtle roll of the eyes, or ignored interested men altogether. I didn’t want any of them. None tickled my fancy. Besides, the dentist from Dallas, cloaked in his own splendid success, promised a fulfilling future, and he awaited my answer. Despite everything, flashes of last night kept reappearing. My thoughts always returned to my charming Irish hero. And that wasn’t a good thing.