She learned in time that Keith hadn’t been pandering that evening with his choice of cuisine. He had a sincere interest in other cultures, and not in the exoticizing, appropriating way some men did. He genuinely wanted to learn to make paan himself, buying all the ingredients and even the stainless-steel tin filled with matching small cups. Her parents accepted him because their life experiences had made them broad-minded and his credentials were impressive: he was a top-tier investment banker, soon on his way to an Ivy League business school.

When Keith was admitted to Wharton after they’d been dating for only six months, Jaya assumed their affair would end with his departure. But he surprised her with a proposal on their one-year anniversary, which came with the blessing of her parents and a one-way ticket to America. At first, she worried about being far from her parents, but the distance from both their families turned out to be a blessing in the early years of their marriage, reducing the inevitable friction between such different cultures and upbringings. She and Keith were the sole meeting place of their respective histories; they could define their relationship without the baggage of her parents’ cosmopolitan tastes clashing with his family’s deep American roots.

* * *

That had been twenty years ago. Now, Jaya dressed in a sleek black dress with red heels for the evening. Keith chose a small table tucked into a dark corner of the hotel bar, where they sat close and sipped from tall flutes of champagne.

“Happy anniversary, babe,” he said, nestling one hand between her thighs. “Even more beautiful than the day I met you.”

“I love you,” Jaya said, her eyes shining for the husband for whom her love had stayed constant and yet grown since they had met two decades earlier. Their differences had not proved a stumbling block, but rather an opportunity to forge a strong foundation for their marriage and their children, and it was this of which she was most proud.

5 | Karina

June 2009

The last few weeks of middle school were torture. Karina and her eighth-grade classmates were restless as their thoughts turned to long, lazy summer days. One day in the last week of the school year, a day like any other, Karina walked over to the neighboring elementary school to pick up Prem. During their fifteen-minute walk, Prem excitedly told Karina all about his day in third grade. Although she would never admit it to her parents, Karina enjoyed this time in their day, walking home together. Being alone with Prem was like being at rest. She didn’t have to work to make conversation or wonder if she was saying the right thing. She could stop worrying about how her hair looked. Prem would do all the talking. Sometimes, he would take her hand or hook his arm through hers, which she would allow if no one else was around.

By the time they got home, though, Karina was ready to be done with Prem. She quickly dished out chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk for him, then headed for the stairs.