The Mirrors of Fate (27 page)

“
Ah, Maria!” her mother said joyously. “Mrs. Singh, this is my daughter. Maria, you look very nice.”

If Louie had spoken at that point he would have undoubtedly agreed. His eyes seemed glazed from enchantment, as if she were an angel or a fairy that had just emerged from the pages of a story. Louie’s mother, on the other hand, did not share this same gleam of jubilation in her eyes.

A fake and awkwardly pleasant smile was all Maria could muster up. “Hello. Thank you for coming,” she said courteously.

Before she could even motion to move down the other steps, Louie Singh headed toward her. He took her hand in his, brought it to his lips and kissed it with great delicacy and showmanship.

“
Maria, you look very beautiful. Such beauty like yours shouldn’t be seen by normal people. I nearly fainted at the sight of you.”

You’re such a piece of—
“You’re so nice, thank you,” she said.

He escorted her over to his mother who tried to smile something agreeable, but her fault-finding, inquiring eyes showed disappointment washing over her.

“
Vow,” the woman said, meaning to say “wow” but her Indian accent would not allow her to properly pronounce her “w”. “Vhat a pretty daughter you have, Mrs. Jaghai. Maria, it is very nice to meet you. I’m sorry vee couldn’t be here the first time you met vid Louie, but I’m glad ve’re here now.”

Maria smiled and bent down, her whole upper body coming at a horizontal line to embrace the short woman who initiated the hug. On both of their parts the hug lacked warmth.

“
So,” the woman began, “there are many things vee all need to discuss. Perhaps vee should all sit now.”

“
Surely we can’t forget our husbands,” her mother mentioned.

“
Oh dat’s right! Oh my goodness, vhere is dat man?” Soon the demure-looking woman peeked her head through the open door and began shouting at the top of her lungs. “Arman! Armaan, vhat are you doing out dere? Help the man in and cummon!”

Help someone in? Did she mean her father? Had he been hurt?

“
Calm yourself Heena!” Louie’s father hollered back.

“
What’s going on?” Maria asked. The question was intended for her mother but Louie answered instead.

“
We had an accident on our way over here. My father, bless his heart, always has his cellular phone glued to his ear. Luckily no one got hurt—oh, except we nearly hit some man walking on the road. Poor fella twisted something trying to avoid us. We brought him with us, so I hope you don’t mind if he uses your phone to call a taxi, or something.”

“
No, no that’s perfectly fine!” her mother promptly exclaimed. “I can imagine he must be pretty shaken up. I would certainly be.”

Both fathers came to the doorway, holding up a groaning young man in between them. Coordinating themselves to come in through the door created quite a commotion amongst the three of them.

“
I can easily have my wife fix you something before you make your call,” her father quickly said to the man.

“
That’s right. Again, I am terribly, terribly sorry for this,” Mr. Singh profusely apologized.

The two men came through the door with the injured individual. He had one leg held up in the air by Mr. Singh, and one arm hoisted over one of each of the men’s helpful shoulders.

“
You really shouldn’t look,” Louie said, taking advantage of the distraction and suddenly pulling Maria into a corner before she could see. “It’s bad luck to view anything inauspicious before a meeting as important as this.”

“
Whose philosophy is that?” she asked in disgust at his closeness.

“
Everything to Indians is inauspicious,” he said, grinning.

“
For goodness sake, Arman. Look vhat you’ve done to the poor boy,” Louie’s mother rebuked.

“
Oh calm down, Heena. The man is fine. He just bruised his ankle a little.”

“
Vell, if you veren’t always on that damn cell he vouldn’t have had to jump like dat,” the woman scolded.

“
Let me go get him something to eat.” Her mother disappeared hurriedly into the kitchen.

“
Come and sit somewhere,” her father said.

They carried him past Maria and into the living room, but not even with her neck craned could Maria get a glimpse of the scene over Louie’s tall body blocking her.

“
What an inconvenient time for all this to happen,” Louie remarked.

She pressed herself against the wall, irked by his closeness. “Indeed,” she said.

“
Some people are just so unlucky. Hopefully he’s not
seriously
injured.” He whispered, “My father and I aren’t keen on paying any hospital fees. Like father like son.”

Maria smiled, hiding away her disgust at his uncaring words.

“
Anyway, let’s go join them, shall we?” He held out his arm for her to take, and with a forced, agonizing smile she reluctantly accepted it.

As they walked through the living room arch, Maria looked at the man who was placed in her father’s favorite armchair. With his face out of view, the stranger was bent over and checking the condition of his ankle.

Her eyes traveled downward and observed slender fingers. For some reason her skin began to itch.

“
You’re sure you are okay man?” Mr. Singh asked the injured guy again.

The stranger finally spoke. “I’m quite all right,” he said in a very friendly thank you-but-please-don’t-make-a-fuss-about-me tone.

His voice sounded familiar.

“
It’s really not that bad.
I
feel bad actually for wandering into the street like that. You all don’t need to make a big fuss.”

Her heart picked up its pace.

“
Big fuss? No man, don’t joke. It’s called hospitality. It’s called manners and common decency,” the baldheaded Mr. Singh said.

“
Well, thank you very much for it.”

“
After you eat I’ll go get you a phone to use,” Maria’s mother told him kindly.

The stranger looked up finally at them all and smiled something sweet and charming. “I would like that very much ma’am.”

Maria’s body went cold.

“
Maria? Are you all right?”

The greasy-haired Louie noticed her rapidly changing countenance. Her lips started trembling; the blood fled from her face; she wasn’t breathing.

“
Maria?” He squeezed her wrist.

Maria stared at the injured guest, at the thick, midnight, untamed hair on a head with brown Asian eyes slanted slightly downward, and at a face of rougher texture with a scar on the left side.

“
What’s your name?” Mr. Singh shook his hand, his gaze respectfully away from the mark peeking from behind bits of hair.

“
David, sir,” he responded with a megawatt smile. “David.”

Maria whirled to face the living room arch and stumbled to flee. Louie grabbed her tighter but she flung his hand away. Everyone turned to look at her, halting her escape.

“
Exactly what’s wrong with you, eh?” her father asked, frowning in annoyance.

She stared at them. Her choking fear wouldn’t allow her to speak. Her gaze flew around the room. All of them looked ready to pounce angrily on her for causing a commotion so early into the night.

Aunt Seema arrived in the living room at that moment with a tray of food in hand. “Why everyone so quiet in here?”

David looked as bewildered by Maria’s actions as everyone else seemed to be. For a second she nervously measured in her mind what she should do. Every nerve, blood vessel and muscle in her body urged her to take off. Her rising adrenaline begged to be released by screaming, “It’s him! It’s him! He’s right there in front of you!” But nothing came. What sense would it make if she could speak, anyway? The news reports showed the green-eyed, blonde-haired school photo of Alan from Iceland, not the dark-eyed, dark-haired David from White Crest City. To them, he was just a stranger, and she, merely acting strangely so she could get out of the meeting.

“
I’m sorry,” her father said to Mr. and Mrs. Singh, a stern look of embarrassment on his face. “Please forgive my daughter. She hasn’t been feeling well recently.”

Louie’s father crossed to Maria. “Is that true? You’re not feeling well?”

And the bastard was even smiling. Around Mr. Singh’s shoulder she saw the grin on David’s lips. She could hear what his expression said to her, a bright, sardonic, amused “Surprise.”

“
Hey! Young lady! Did you hear me just ask you a question?” Mr. Singh repeated.

Maria forced the words out, “Y-Yes sir. I’ve been sick.”

He looked down at her judgmentally. “Well, like my mother always said, it takes a strong woman to put sickness aside and put duties ahead. Are you that kind of woman? I would like to think that you are.”

She uttered another “Yes sir.”

“
Then without any more haste, what do you say we get this thing started and over with so you can get some rest? I would like that and I think everyone else would as well.”

Aunt Seema gave Maria a hard look, warning and reminding her of what they had spoken about.

“
Y-Yessir,” she finally responded, but with trembling, and fear, and with the heat of David’s eyes burning into her.

He had cornered her in her own home.

•

The meeting was on. All summoned their business personas, and within minutes, an air of high, upper class professionalism was created.

As of yet Maria had spoken to no one. She was only spoken about. Her father spoke of the many achievements—the clubs, the high grades, the certificates, and the awards Maria had received within her lifetime. He of course neglected to mention how her grades of recent paled in comparison to her good stint back then.

Singh’s parents, who sat beside their son on a couch across from the one Maria and her parents sat on, listened carefully and displayed how impressed they were with what they were being told with timed nods and sounds of approval.

“
That’s all very astounding Maria,” Mr. Singh said, finally acknowledging her presence.

“
Thank you, sir.” Maria nervously brought a clanking cup and saucer to her trembling lips.

There she sat, trying to master two skills at once—the art of ladylike yielding and the art of suppressing a mixture of paralyzing fear, confusion, and mental torment.

David sat to the left of her in the armchair, nonchalantly playing the part of the injured guest. She could not believe he was in her home, next to her, next to her family. Her breath felt trapped in her lungs. The thought that with a simple stretch of his arm he could easily brush against her terrified her. From the corner of her eyes she could see a grin come upon his face every so often when he knew she was trying to catch a glimpse of him. He must have been well aware that her attention was all on him—and he wanted it that way. He nibbled and picked with intentional slowness at the food he was offered just to torture her and slow his departure.

This had all been planned. There was not a fiber of her being that did not believe so. She did not understand how he had achieved it, but he had a reason for showing up here. Just like he had a reason for coming into her life.

Did he find out she knew about his connection to Emma? Did he somehow know she had met his old girlfriend Tiffany at the mall? Or...did he want to find out what other pieces of the puzzle she had managed to put together?

“
Can I be honest about someting?” Mrs. Singh suddenly asked. The words grabbed Maria’s attention. “I alvays told my son dat my vish for him is to be married to somevone who vreally epitomizes the idea of vhat vee have of a vreal, traditional, Indian young lady. Somevone who at a first look just shouts dat kind of ting. His last vife never lasted. She vas a nice voman, but I never believed she vas vreally right for him. She vas too much of a voman of the vorld. And so, personally, Mr. and Mrs. Jaghai, your daughter just isn’t—”

“
Our daughter can be right for your son, Mrs. Singh,” Maria’s mother jumped in.

Mr. Singh looked at Maria skeptically. He cleared his throat and twiddled the left end of his handlebar-style moustache. “We are not saying she is not a nice, accomplished young woman, but I feel the same way my wife does. Mr. and Mrs. Jaghai, when you initially told us you had a daughter I had no idea you meant an
adopted
daughter. But my wife convinced me to see it through and determine only after meeting her what I think. I think she’s nice, but just not right for my son.”

Maria’s widened eyes went unnoticed. Not right for him?
She
was being turned down?

“
She’s not even Indian. I thought at least you vould have adopted an Indian gul.”

“
This was all they had at the time,” her father said urgently. Maria shot him a glare he did not see. “Maria is a very good girl,” he continued. “Maybe a little hot-tempered at times, but I blame myself for that.”

“
I’m a horrible critic vhen it comes to faces on guls, so I promised myself not to request a picture of her before,” Louie’s mother said. “But I should have, obviously! Vhy did you even call the gul
Maria
? You could not have been serious about her taking up the caltcha vidout changing the gul’s first name to something suitable. Vhat about Vidya? Or even Suhana? Do you know how terribly pulain Maria is? At least vee chose ‘Louie’ because vee wanted a little more Vestern caltcha in our line. Frankly, you sound like you chose the name just because you were bored.”