Life's Second Chances

Forty-Two

ANU

Turning the corner on Madison and 67th, I drive down the three blocks to Sid's parent's house on the Upper East Side. My windshield whippers work furiously to clear away the heavily falling snow, already piling up on the street. Based on the short notice of tonight's dinner and given the current circumstances, I can tell its something important that couldn't wait and needed to be discussed face-to-face.

Pulling into the driveway, I'm the first to arrive which is unusual because Sidharth is always prompt, arriving for anything fifteen minutes early. The wind howls as I open my car door, crawling up my bare legs and seeping through the leather of heels. Skirting to the front door to avoid blistering negative temperatures, I quickly press the doorbell rocking back and forth on my feet to keep warm.

Within moments uncle Neal is at the door to usher me inside into the solitude and refuge of the warm heat. "It's coming down heavy out there," he helps me with my coat as I rest my purse on the marble top table in the foyer. "Glad you could make it," he walks me through the foyer, past the grand spiraling staircase, into the enormous kitchen, where aunty is preparing dinner.

"Hi beta, come sit, pour yourself some wine, warm up," aunty Jaya smiles from behind the marble island. I take a seat thankful for the warmth of the kitchen. The doorbell rings and uncle hops on his feet to answer its call. The voices echoing from the foyer sound familiar. I bend my neck to see the other dinner guests joining us tonight and to my surprise, they are my parents.

Perplexed I look between my parents and Sid's, recognizing that playful wicked looked in my mom's eyes. "Jaya dinner smells delicious," my poor father oblivious to everything that's going on, naively compliments.

"Do you need help with anything?" maa offers already walking around the counter.

"No just sit and relax Kavita, you can sample these dishes though and tell me if anything is missing," aunty plates out a sample of each dish, mostly Bengali, while uncle tops our classes off with wine.

Sheepishly, maa slides into the seat beside me sipping her wine and avoiding eye contact with me. "I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work," leaning into her shoulder, I whisper using the wine glass as a cover for my mouth.

"We're just having dinner, Anuksha," she shrugs, dipping a pakora into tamarind chutney and popping it into her mouth.

"Goodnight...everyone?" swiveling around in the stool, I meet Sidharth's skeptical eyes framed by his thick furrowed brows and stiff pouted lips. Awkwardly he goes around the room greeting everyone coming up to me last. In the months since we've gotten back together, his relationship with my parents, especially with my mother, has been slowly developing. The man who was their first-choice perfect match for me became the bad-boy bachelor.

Sitting in the seat beside me, he rests his arm on the back of my stool quickly kissing me on the side of my head, afraid to show any other type of physical affection toward me out of respect for our, mostly my, parents present. "What's going here?" he whispers bringing my glass of wine to his mouth.

Pulling my lips into my mouth, I slant my head staring at him with raised eyebrows. "Marriage talks," I whisper into his ear before pecking him on the cheek. Nodding to himself, he swallows hard, licking his lips of the red residue from the wine.

Conversation flows lightly around the dinner table mostly reminiscent of the parent's youth with the occasional business talk. Uncle Neal is just getting through a story of when he was in college with my dad and Sidharth's biological dad, Raj, about an epic spring break trip to Ibiza, when rasmalai is served for dessert.