Priya in Heels (Entangled Embrace) (19 page)

“Babe.”

“She hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t. Give it a few weeks.”

I went to Austin, alone, early the next morning, but my parents weren’t home. They weren’t at
mandir
. I called around, but no one had seen them. The day dragged on as I waited for them. I even spent the night. They didn’t come home.

Clearly, they didn’t want to see me or have anything to do with me.

I returned to work and Ty and life, but I haunted the phone. I left a message once a day. Days passed into weeks. Weeks turned into two months.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Priya

Ty:
Meet me at my place? I’ll cook dinner.

Priya:
Yum!

I brushed my teeth and headed down the hall, figuring Ty was already home. I knocked on the door, but he didn’t open.

“Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” Ty walked up the apartment steps behind me decked out and delicious in a black, gray, and white plaid shirt, black slacks, and dress shoes.

I beamed and hugged him. Touching the edge of his collar, I commented, “Nice shirt. Rocking the plaid!”

He arched a brow. “I decided to help you bring plaid back. You’re home early.”

“Nothing going on at work so I left early. Why are you dressed so nice?”

“I always dress like this for work.”

“Plaid? Oh my God, can you get any sexier?”

“So…NASA plus plaid equals getting you all hot and bothered?”

Flipping the photo ID on his lanyard around, I checked out his gorgeous picture and the words: NASA, Johnson Space Center, Tyler O’Connor, Life Support Sciences. I tugged the lanyard, drawing him close. “Are you kidding me? I’m a nerd. You’re the closest thing to sci-fi action I’ll ever get.”

He kissed me. “Come inside and I’ll show you some real action.”

I playfully growled as he unlocked his door, swept me up, and threw me onto the couch where I laughed uncontrollably.

“Priya!” Vicki yelled from the other side of the still-open door.

“What’s going on?” Ty asked.

“Where is she?” She stumbled inside.

I shot up and ran around the couch to the foyer. “What’s wrong?”

Vicki handed me the phone. “Call your parents.”

I took the phone, perplexed. “I’ve been calling them every day. They don’t want to talk to me. Why are you so mad?”

“Just call them,” she whispered, her voice aquiver and her eyes glistening.

“Okay. Ty, I’ll come by later.”

Instead, he followed us to our place. He gave Vicki a questioning glance, but she kept her lips closed. She shook her head, plopped onto the couch and hugged a pillow to her chest. Ty waited on the loveseat while I went to my room and closed the door.

“Papa?” I asked into the phone.

“
Beti
!” he blurted, his tone anxious. “I’ve called several times.”

I didn’t want to point out that I’d called them every day for two months. “What’s wrong, Papa?”

“Mummie’s in the hospital.”

“What! What happened?”

He breathed heavily. “Her diabetes medication used to give her episodes of depression. She stopped taking it when you told us about Tyler because it made it worse.”

I gulped, imagining the worst that could happen with diabetes: an amputated leg, strokes, blindness.

“She complained about headaches, and the doctors didn’t know what was wrong. We thought she was depressed because of you. She passed out a few times. I took her to the hospital and they ran tests. She’s been in and out of consciousness. They don’t think she’ll make it.” His voice cracked.

I clamped a hand over my mouth as tears covered my knuckles.

“
Beti
?”

I couldn’t speak.

“Priyanka? Are you there?”

“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. “This is all my fault, isn’t it?”

He should’ve said no. “She’s a strong woman, but she couldn’t bear this news from you. Come to Austin as soon as possible if you want to see her one last time.”

And with that, I bawled. Somewhere between hyperventilation and sobs, I managed to stutter, “I’m…I’m coming now.”

“See you soon.”

We hung up.

For a long minute, or a normal one that seemed to freeze in time, I stared through a wall of blurry tears. Distorted colors and ambiguous shapes filled the room. Something inside me snapped. I grabbed a pillow, buried my face in it, and screamed. My entire body convulsed. I wanted to bawl, but I had to see Mummie. I had to convince her to live, to fight. Most of all, I had to erase the pain between us if she should die tonight.

Wiping the hot mess of tears from my face, only for new tears to fall, I stuffed a few days’ worth of random clothes and undergarments into my backpack and stormed out.

As soon as I emerged, Ty shot to his feet and was at my side. Vicki slowly followed. She must’ve known because she appeared too calm, though silently shaken, and didn’t ask questions.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Ty asked as he cupped my face and wiped my tears.

I jerked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Pree, what happened?”

I didn’t reply and tried to walk past him. He took hold of my elbow and brought me back. He kept trying to look into my eyes, his head moving as I turned, until he held my chin in place and lowered himself to force eye contact.

“Babe, talk to me.”

I shook my head out of his grip and lost it. I yielded to sobs again, not even to the front door yet.

Ty wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. “Pree.”

I shook my head fiercely. “I have to go.”

“Where?”

“Austin.”

“You’re gonna drive?”

“I have to go now.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Not necessary.”

“You’re going to get into an accident if you can’t see or think straight. Come on.” He flung the backpack over his shoulder and led me outside. “You gonna stay a few days?”

“Yes.” The word came out shaky.

Getting out of Houston was a nightmare while I silently cried. It wasn’t until we were on I-10 that I managed to control myself. I no longer sobbed, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

On the country road, wide open at this time of day, Ty rested his hand on my thigh and squeezed. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here if you want to.”

I cried some more. A few minutes of crying tired me out, an entire thirty minutes knocked me out. I dozed off and on until we reached 290. Ty had his hand on my lap and the music turned low.

“My mom’s really sick, Ty.”

“Babe, I’m so sorry. Let me know if I can do anything for you and your family. She’ll get better though, right? Things will be okay.”

“I don’t think so. It’s really bad.”

“What happened?”

“She’s struggled with diabetes and stopped taking medication after our fight because it depressed her even more. She got really sick and passed out a couple of times and my dad took her to the hospital. Papa said the doctors don’t think she’ll make it,” I choked out. “Because of
me
.”

Without saying a word, Ty took my hand and squeezed. I never knew what to say when friends, coworkers, and acquaintances lost loved ones. I offered generic condolences. Some people said God called for an angel, but that was pure BS. Others offered their own religious or personal beliefs—resting in heaven, reincarnated into a higher being, asleep to be resurrected later in a perfect world, etc. It didn’t ease the pain or stop the suffering. Even people of the most devout faith and spiritual strength broke down.

Ty didn’t believe so much in religion, though he believed in some form of higher power. I wasn’t sure how he viewed death and the afterlife and found myself waiting for his failed words of encouragement. He never commented on it.

Whenever I hiccupped toward crying, he squeezed my hand.

“Which hospital?” he asked when we turned onto I-35.

Reading the information Papa had texted, I replied, “The one by their house.”

Ty followed my turn by turn directions and drove around once before stopping at the front entrance. “You go while I find parking.”

I nodded. He ran a hand down the back of my head and pulled me in for a brief hug.

“Room four-twelve,” I muttered without looking at him.

In my heightening swell of emotions, I climbed out of the car and somehow found my way to the right set of elevators in a teary mess. I didn’t care if people looked at me, or how little kids stared the way they did when they knew something was wrong with a person but knew better than to say something.

I concentrated on breathing, too shaky and numb to text Papa. People stepped on and off the elevator at every flipping floor. When it finally chimed on the fourth level, I pushed through. Maybe someone huffed, but one look at my swollen eyes, and they immediately offered a sympathetic, almost pathetic, expression.

The elevator opened up to a broad waiting room. A few people paced the area, others sat. Some ate, some read, others nervously twiddled their thumbs.

This hospital was large, clean, and smelled fresh. The stench of death, medicine, and chaos didn’t linger in the air. Doctors and staff appeared calm, professional. At this time of day, when lunch carts huddled against the walls, the hallways were crowded. Large paintings hung on the walls. Tall shrubs grew in corners and nooks.

Room four-twelve kitty-cornered the waiting room, separated by one other patient room. The door was cracked open. I inhaled and stared at the numbers for a few seconds, trying to rebuke the tears and forcing them to stay put.

“Can I help you?” a nurse asked.

I shook my head.

“Are you here for Mrs. Patel?”

I nodded. My lips quivered and my fight waned. I tried not to hate the nurse when she placed a hand on my shoulder. She didn’t say anything, just walked away, and I was glad for that.

Maybe I waited for a long time, unsure if I was more afraid to find Mummie dead or being here to watch her die.

Ty touched the small of my back. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

“No.”

His chest deflated with a defeated sigh.

“Because this is a private moment,” I added. We both knew my parents didn’t want to see him after what happened, but the truth was just that: this was a private moment.

“I’ll wait out here.” He went to the waiting area.

I pushed open the door to find all the
fois
and
fuas
on the chairs and standing against the wall. They muttered and conversed but fell silent when I entered. Their eyes glimmered with hints of tears. I heaved and compressed my indignation.
Why the hell were they here?

Ignoring them, I went to Mummie’s side. Papa watched me from the other side of the bed as I took her hand. Oxygen tubing was in her nostrils. Her dry, parted lips remained still. Her eyes glazed over.

“Mummie,” I whispered as I crouched down.

Mummie squeezed my hand and turned toward me. “
Beti
?”

“How are you feeling?” What a dumb question.

“Nothing hurts anymore, just my heart.”

Tears slid down my face. I swallowed, my throat dry and raw.

“But you came.”

“Of course I came.” We weren’t a family who verbally expressed sentiments, so it had always felt awkward to utter the three most important words in life. But I didn’t feel weird saying, “Mummie, I love you. Don’t leave me.”

Mummie patted my head with a weak hand. “It’s my time.”

“No, it’s
not
.”

More people arrived, mainly those from
mandir
, annoying me. The room was small, and they didn’t have the right to take away these last, precious moments with Mummie.

“Can you all please leave?” I asked.

“We’d like to be here,” one
foi
said.

I shook. Adrenaline pumped so hard through me body that it literally ached. “Don’t you have some gossiping to do?”

They were appalled, as if my words were a physical slap. They must have known about my decision to be with Ty, which would have fueled their gleeful ammunition at Mummie. What she must have suffered for my deeds. They surrounded her now when she needed peace the most.

I looked to Papa to take a stand, but he was lost in torment, his gaze fixed on Mummie’s pale face.

“Please leave,” I said in a firmer voice.

“
Beti
,” another
foi
said, taking a step forward and wiping a tear. An emotionless tear.

I effing lost it. “Get the hell out,
now
.”

My behavior shocked them. Sweet, obedient Priya, who had lived a life sheltered from her beastly aunts, snapped. For once, I spoke out against my elders. For once, I put my foot down, made a stand. For once, I didn’t give a crap about what they thought or what they would say about Mummie as a reflection of my actions. Maybe I should have stepped up before, despite Mummie’s adamant pleas against it. Maybe then they’d know not to screw with us because I wouldn’t put up with them.

I glowered at them as they nervously chuckled under the watchful eyes of those from
mandir
. “Forgive her, she’s in pain,” a
foi
said.

“You hurt her enough. You’re not going to hurt her again. Get out.” I took a step forward. Those from
mandir
emptied out first, but not fast enough. I grabbed all the purses in the room and dropped them outside. The family shuffled out and I closed the door behind them before dragging a chair to the bed and taking Mummie’s hand.

“My girl,” Mummie mumbled.

I rested my forehead against hers and wept.

“Don’t cry. I’ll be in a better place, right?”

“But
we
won’t. You’re not supposed to leave us yet.”

Papa leaned over Mummie and hugged me from the other side. Papa never cried. I had seen him at his parents’ deathbeds, their funerals, and memorials for friends, and he had never shed a tear. He was hardcore and never wore frail sentiments on his face. Yet now, he bawled and shook over his girls. And together we cried, our faces red, the sheets damp with tears.

Mummie coughed and we eased away to give her room to breathe. “
Beti
, promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Take care of your papa.”

“Mummie,” I groaned.

She coughed again.

“Save your strength.”

“There’s nothing to save it for. Promise me, Priya.”

“I promise, but you have to fight.”

Silence overwhelmed us as Mummie shivered. Papa drew the blankets closer to her face and tucked her in. I held her hand beneath the covers.

We wept off and on for a long time. Mummie didn’t say anything, and the eeriness of the quiet room made the situation even more devastating. Her vitals dropped by the end of the hour. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, but nothing else mattered right now.