My arm went over my head to hit snooze when my alarm went off at five in the morning. Wow. Praise the stars! A full night’s sleep during residency was better than sex.
I swung my arm back, excited to wiggle deeper into the mattress for another five minutes, but the back of my hand hit something hard.
I shot up, dazed and clutching the bedspread to my chest. I turned on the bedside lamp and yelped at the sight of Daniel in bed with me.
He groaned, his face buried in a pillow, his hands beneath said pillow, and the bedspread tangled at his waist. The man was shirtless, displaying solid back muscles with perfected ridges and dips. “Can you not make so much noise?”
“Daniel!”
“That’s the opposite of what I just asked you to do,” he grumbled, his voice guttural and sleepy.
“Why are you in bed?”
“I mean, I was trying to sleep. Where am I supposed to sleep?”
“On the couch.”
“Nah.”
“I can’t share a bed with you for three weeks.”
“First of all,” he started, showing more of his face in the dim light and squinting, “I was here first. You can sleep on the couch if you don’t like it. Secondly, you won’t combust from sharing a bed with me.”
My face heated up like a blazing sun. I might combust, actually, in some weird, restrained mixture of embarrassment and arousal.
“Can you turn the light off and get on with your day?” He smashed his face into the pillow and went back to sleep.
I guffawed. Seriously? I jerked the bedspread off me, climbed out, and went into the kitchen, as far away as I could get from the man in my bed short of leaving the apartment.
With my jaw still hanging open, I decided to catch up on my infection project by starting a presentation slideshow. I hunched over the kitchen counter, but my eyes kept wandering toward the bedroom. Having to share a bed with the finest man this side of Texas, in addition to the fact that after years of school I still couldn’t put together a decent slide deck, had me crawling out of my skin.
Slamming my textbooks closed after an hour, I went for an early-morning run. Life didn’t always allow time for a workout, but I had a lot of tension building between work, interviews, living arrangements, engagement, and Daniel. Instead of revving it up by blasting a playlist through my earbuds, I put on a calming app—an anxiety reducer Daniel had suggested back in college.
I faced off with the treadmill in the spacious, quiet gym on the first floor of Liya’s apartment building. The ache in my feet and legs felt good, for once, invigorating and much needed.
Instead of fretting over things, I took in calming sounds: gentle songs, crashing waves, singing birds, and gusting wind. Afterward, I wiped the sweat from my brow and from the machine and sat on a bench to angry-text Liya.
She was most likely asleep, all cuddled up in Jay’s arms living her best life. But I hoped that she’d forgotten to put her phone on sleep mode and startled awake with every notification chime.
She might’ve expected this. Me freaking out. But as I considered my reaction, I realized how immature I sounded. So, instead of dragging myself down a rabbit hole of negativity, I decided to have fun. What better stress reliever?
Me: So, um…do you think I should call off this whole thing with Yuvan if I sort of accidentally slept with you know who?
Ha! That would get her attention. In a matter of seconds, the bubble indicator popped up. Guess she wasn’t asleep after all.
Liya: You’re lying!
Me: You knew leaving me alone in an apartment with him would lead to this!! I hope you’re happy! What am I supposed to do now?
Liya: Shut up!
Me: What did you think would happen? I mean…there’s only ONE bed.
Liya: AHHH!!! Get it, girl! ONE bed? You should interest him in the ONE shower while you’re at it!
Me: This is NOT funny. You set me up to fail!
Liya: This is all circumstantial; Brandy said he needed a place for a few weeks and I was leaving town anyway. Then you needed a place. Was I supposed to say no to you, or go back on my word with him?
Me: I guess there are worse things in life than waking up to a fantasy in my bed.
Liya: I don’t really believe you, but nice try. Y’all need to work out your issues before you decide to marry someone else. So. Talk. And maybe get some. Just to make sure you’re over him.
Her text was immediately followed by a bunch of emojis. Heart eyes, water squirts, devil horns, eggplant, and a fire. How could one get so raunchy with cartoons? Leave it to Liya.
The time on my cell phone flashed six thirty. I hurried back upstairs.
When I ducked inside, Daniel was still asleep in bed, lightly snoring as I stood over him with arms crossed, wondering if I could drag all two hundred pounds of muscle out of bed for the next three weeks or erect a barricade between us at night. The sound of him sleeping thrust me back to college. The best morning had been any morning waking up beside him.
I shook my head, shaking loose any images of what we often did in the morning after waking up.
I took a quick, frigid shower to cool off and changed into a pair of gray slacks and a lavender blouse.
In the living room, I shoved everything I needed for a day of work into my backpack and was grabbing Grandma Thompson’s leftovers when Daniel emerged from the bedroom. His sweatpants hung low, exposing the V-cut of his hips. And shirtless! The shame! The flagrant display of side muscles had me gawking so hard that I might as well have given him a thumbs-up when he caught me staring.
Daniel scratched his head and casually said, “Your jaw’s about to unhinge.”
I clamped my mouth shut, then sputtered, “You slept topless next to me.”
He turned toward me and smirked, running a hand down his rather well-maintained abs, then disappeared into the bathroom.
I swerved around and chugged from my water bottle, then promptly refilled it before heading to work. The thirst was real…in more ways than one.
* * *
The best thing about going to the hospital was that no one ever told me to leave. It was my day off, but I needed to study and catch up on this presentation and make a slide deck so amazing that attendings would use it to teach residents how it was done. The lord knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate at the apartment, waiting for Daniel just so I could avoid him.
The hospital was eerily quiet, like the days-leading-up-to-a-full-moon sort of quiet.
The physician lounge was barren and boring, especially when all the pastries had been picked over, leaving the least favored: bran muffins, plain Danish, and half-torn bagels. Heathens.
Instead of working, I found myself wistfully replaying the morning in my head—because bless the gym that had catered to Daniel for the past six years—when Reema texted.
I leaped for joy! Mama Duck was home from her honeymoon and finally awake! I headed over right away. With Rohan out, it was just me and Reema at my old place. She was on the couch in her sweats, her hair damp, and eating treats she’d brought home from her honeymoon.
She ate another Parisian chocolate and groaned. “Ugh. I’m about to start my period. I feel the cramps coming.”
“Crampus is upon us. My app notified me that I have another week.”
She giggled at my menstrual take on the demon Krampus. If men had battled him once a year and thought it a victory, then we women who slayed the monthly version should be revered as heroes.
“We’re still synched? At least I’m not pregnant,” she said. “What kind of mess would that be? All the aunties would be wagging their tongues, busting out calculators and calendars and pregnancy date wheels to see if there’s even the slightest chance we did it before the wedding.”
“But if you were!”
She grunted. “Yes. For sure you would have your hands all up in me. I wouldn’t want any other woman probing my lady parts.”
“I’d be the best auntie.” I paused. “Oh. Ugh. I’d be an auntie. I’m too young for that.”
“No, you’re not. None of us are. You just refuse to mingle with people who have kids, aside from a few. Once their kids start to speak, you’re going to be Preeti Auntie. All day, every day. Face it, we’re becoming the next generation.”
I’d like to think age was nothing but a number, but in my world, each day was a ticking clock, a countdown to an engagement, a wedding, kids of my own. The mention of things to come pushed Yuvan to the forefront of my thoughts. I wondered if I could be as happy with him as Reema was with Rohan.
“Well, for now, hooray for menstruation to remind you that you’ve successfully evaded the purpose of your uterus for another month,” I said. “I’m not ready for my period. Stop putting me off schedule.”
She rolled her eyes. “No one is forcing you to menstruate. I didn’t have a private talk with your uterus to purge.”
“You don’t have to. It’s science.”
She laughed. “Okay. I’ll try to hold off as long as possible.”
“That’s all I ask. Just grip that membrane tight.”
“Oh, boy…” She pushed the box of chocolates toward me. “You have to try some of these treats I brought back.”
In one indulgent bite, I saw why people made such a fuss about Paris. “You must be so tired from getting in late last night. You’re absolutely glowing, though! Did you enjoy your honeymoon?” I asked longingly.
“Yes! It was magical. Maybe it was the whole newlywed thing, or getting a wedding done and over without a hitch, or getting a vacation, or all the wine and food…it was probably the wine and food.”
“I bet it was delicious.” I could almost taste the decadent cheeses and world-renowned bread. This chocolate was amazing, but it wasn’t enough to satiate my desire to try Parisian food in actual Paris one day.
“We couldn’t stop eating!”
“I would love to eat all day on vacation.” I slouched and patted my belly. I’d been gorging on leftover wedding food for too long.
“You deserve one after residency is over. I recommend Paris. Hey! Maybe we can do a girls’ trip. After your residency but before Sana gets married.”
“Yes! I’ll need the time to just veg and not think about work or studying. It’s going to be weird not to be in that mind-set.”
“Until then, I didn’t forget about my girls!” Reema ran behind the counter and returned with a bag. “For you!”
I squealed with joy. “You didn’t have to!”
“You’d be mopey if I didn’t,” she jested.
“What is this?” I pulled out the largest item, which was heavier than I expected. “A bag of…flour? I know the bread is to die for, so it must be the flour, right?”
“It’s a dummy-proof crepe mix from one of the top cafes that makes these mouthwatering crepes. We were eating crepes all day long. This is it! For the, um, culinarily challenged, an easy step-by-step package.”
“I mean, how hard is it to make crepes?”
She scowled. “Coming from you? Who cannot make a decent pancake without wrecking the first three attempts?”
“Thank you. I love it.” I pulled out a smaller bag within the larger one. It was stuffed with fancy shimmering paper.
Reema snatched the bag and said sheepishly, “Oh. This is something that you should open when you get home. It’s a surprise.”
“It’s not something dirty, is it? You didn’t buy me a Parisian vibrator?” I quirked a brow. “Because I don’t know what I’ve said that leads you to believe that I use one or need one.”
“No! A woman should buy her own vibrator. We’re best friends, but we’re not that close.”
I peeked into the bag. What could possibly fit into a square the size of my hand? “I might end up leaving sooner just to see what’s in here.”
“Keep looking.”
“There’s more? Oh, my goodness, Reema.” I pulled out two containers of jam.
“For your crepes, of course.”
Then my fingers caressed something cool and smooth. I held up a silk scarf. “Oh, wow. This is gorgeous.” I hugged Reema and then studied the scarf with romantic watercolor-style flowers in various shades of blue, hints of green leaves, strokes of lavender stems, all set against a backdrop of cream and a golden stitched hem. I wrapped it around my neck and clutched the front to my nose.
“It smells like Paris!”
She clapped. “I knew you’d love it! Do I know my girls or what?”
Reema flipped back her hair and ran her hands through it before leaning against the couch arm. “I got this new shampoo over there and my hair feels nice and nourished. But so glad to get a shower and nap in after that long flight. I talked to Liya this morning. She…unloaded. A lot of stuff happened while I was gone. I still need to process her situation. Holy hell.”
“I know,” I said sadly. “But there’s an overwhelming auntie squad rising to support Liya, including our moms.”
She gnawed on her lip, her brows creasing with worry and anger over Liya’s ordeal. But she needed time to get her thoughts straight, which I absolutely understood, and I knew now wasn’t the time to talk about Liya. As if Reema had to make the point clear, she added, “She said you’re staying at her old apartment until her lease is up?”
“Yes. Did she tell you who else is staying there?”
“Yes. Spill the cha,” she demanded with a snap of her fingers.
“Eh?”
“You know: spill the tea. But desi. ’Cause cha is tea.” She swatted the air like she was fighting off a horde of gnats. “Never mind! Anyway, woman, spill it.”
“I think Liya is trying to set me up with Daniel.” I made a face.
“Are we saying his name now? Is that allowed?” Reema asked.
“Yes.”
“Liya knows you’re ready to get engaged. But honestly, girl, not all of us think you are.”
“Oh.” Talk about blunt. And a little hurtful. Here I was trying to go full force into commitment and the only people who believed in us were Yuvan and our parents.
She patted my hands in that motherly way she sometimes did. “It’s coming from a loving place, Preeti. We know you want to move on and make your parents happy, and that you thought maybe this thing with Yuvan would help. But should you really be pushing yourself into this? It shouldn’t be this hard. And we all know you still love Daniel. We don’t want to see you keep hurting. I don’t always agree with Liya’s tactics, but she didn’t do this on purpose. Since you’re with Daniel for a few weeks, you should take advantage of it. You need closure to move on. And maybe the right thing is to try again?”
I sank into the couch. Leave it to best friends to tell you the truth. Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but probably what needed to be said. “You’re not worried?”
“Why should I be?”
“Oh, I dunno…” I gestured wildly and added, “What if my parents found out? My aunts, Yuvan, his parents?”
“No one will find out. It’s just a few weeks, right? And besides, I’d be more worried that you’d fall—” She caught herself, the room suddenly silent save for the rhythmic churning of the washer and dryer in the background.
Worried, huh? Yeah, you and me both.
“Maybe you need this,” she said softly.
“This torture?”
“Are you still in love with him?”
A denial planted itself on my tongue, ready to spring from my lips, but there was no point in trying to deny it. I wasn’t a great liar to begin with, and Reema caught my lies like a net catching fish. Maybe tiny white lies might get past her, but not this ginormous whale of one.
She went on, “Maybe you need this closure, a final goodbye to him. You have to give up any feelings that you have for him if you’re going to marry Yuvan. It’s not fair to either of you. You wouldn’t want to marry a man who’s in love with someone else.”
“I know. I know. I should suck it up and interact with Daniel and prove that I’m over him.”
She considered my words for a few seconds, but Reema knew me well. “You haven’t even had a real conversation with him, have you? Let me guess. Are you avoiding him? Avoiding eye contact? Avoiding all interaction?”
I groaned and threw my head back. “Yes.”
“You can’t dodge him much longer if you’re living together.”
“Sure I can. He’s only going to be there for three weeks. I work late, I can sleep in the on-call room. It’s easy to avoid him.”
“If you cannot be normal around Daniel, lock eyes, exchange a few words, have coffee together, be in the same room and not want to be with him, then there’s some serious self-evaluation that you need to do.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re great at lecturing?” I asked sarcastically.
She shrugged. “Are you in love with him? Is he still in love with you?”
“Why does it matter if he’s in love with me? I’m sure he’s not.”
“Because if he is, maybe y’all can make it work.”
I guffawed. “You’re forgetting that he’s—”
“Black?” she asked dryly. “I know things were hard when word got out about you two, people were cruel and your parents got the brunt of it, but it’s time to woman up if you want to be with him. It’s not like you cowered away or were trying to save face. You were young and scared and made mistakes. You were being human, but this hiding and keeping the truth to yourself is not the you that you are today. You can’t escape being judged in this world. Everything is hard. You have to choose your hard. Someone is going to shove out their unsolicited, hurtful opinion no matter what you do. You can’t live for others.”
I nodded, knowing she was right. I was forever grateful for friends who were honest but patient. Tears pooled in my eyes and I gripped the pillow to keep from crying because, despite Reema’s understanding, she would never be in my shoes.
“Maybe that’s easy to say when you’re in love with the man your family and community and society want you to be with,” I found myself saying before I could think it through. “Same race and culture and religion. Do you think that you’d as easily have married Rohan if he were different? If it hurt your parents so much that your mom had a heart attack because of the community lashing out at her? That the gossip surrounding everything put her in the hospital? Love isn’t just love with us. It affects the entire family.
“How can it be as simple as love, Reema? When it’s really deciding between him and my parents’ health? I can’t make that choice! It kills me to be away from him, like my heart has holes and is deteriorating. But it kills me to turn my back on my parents, too. I had to choose. And my heart would’ve broken either way. Look at what happened to my mom last time. How would she survive that again? I can’t do that to her.”
“That wasn’t your fault. It was the gossiping, your aunts.”
I turned toward her, my back rigid, and hit the pillow in my lap with balled fists, white knuckles, tears brimming, my skin flaring hot. “Of course it was my fault! I did that to her. I’m supposed to protect my parents, and instead I put her in the hospital.”
“It wasn’t you.”
I was shaking out of control when I replied, my voice cracking, “It was the stress and ostracizing and cruelty she received because of my actions. When she collapsed, it didn’t matter if their attacks were racist or uncalled-for or wrong. It didn’t matter if I was young and didn’t know how to stand up for them. The only thing that mattered was that it got to her, it hurt her, it damaged her. That was the scariest time of my life and it would’ve never happened had I not dated Daniel. So yes, it is my fault.”
Suddenly, my face was wet with hot tears, my entire body quivering with sobs.
“Shh. Shh,” Reema whispered and crawled toward me on the couch, pulling me into her.
I rushed to wipe the tears from my face. But there were so many, falling and vanishing into Reema’s collar, that I couldn’t keep up.
I shuddered, trying to compose myself. “None of this matters because the fact is that I did what was best for my parents. And I would do it again if I had to.”
