Chapters (40)
- Cover
- Also by Saumya Dave
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Acknowledgments
- Readers Guide
- Discussion Questions
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Mom doesn’t respond. She just purses her lips. Translation: This is not the moment for Natasha to dismantle the patriarchy. Plus, she’s going to make Mom mad after she tells her everything. It’s better to not rock the boat right now. Instead, she sips her mimosa and tries to ignore that odd mixture of panic and peace that overcomes her whenever she’s about to be in trouble.
Her mind drifts to another lesson from her therapist: live in the present.
She can do that. She can be like those light and happy people in that yoga class she went to last weekend. She can smile and take deep breaths and go with the flow. That’s how good Indian girls behave, and for the rest of this Sunday, she can at least try to act like one.
Mom hosts this joint family brunch at the Joshi house once a month. On the outside, it looks like a scene from one of those cozy Hallmark movies. Two families who have been best friends for decades. The parents, with their cups of chai and black hair flecked with gray. Their children, dating and working stable jobs that include health insurance. Bowls of green chutney and puffed rice are passed around. The scents of fried eggs and ginger permeate the air. A plate of jalapeño cheddar biscuits is at the center of the table. I’m like Martha Stewart with cumin and chili powder, Mom used to say.
Anita Auntie and Mom launch into another conversation, this one about how some random friend’s daughter would be “the perfect match” for the local sari shop owner’s son.
Karan squeezes Natasha’s forearm. “Our moms are out of control.”
“Seriously! And they both keep each other going,” Natasha says. Anita Auntie always gets more talkative around Mom. “I get all the Atlanta news from family brunch.”
Thank God nobody, not even Karan, knows her news yet. She tries to picture the way everyone will react and then how she’ll feel just twenty-four hours from now. What if she hates living back at home? She always seems to regress to her middle school self when she’s here. Maybe she’s making a terrible mistake.
Her dad and sister, also therapists, would tell her she’s catastrophizing again. Her dad and sister would be right.
“Karan, beta,” Mom says. “Are you sure you’re eating enough?”
Karan smiles and tilts his full plate toward her. “I took thirds!”