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?
“I know we do,” Suhani says. “I think we tell ourselves that they had it so much worse, having to leave their home, face discrimination, try to make ends meet . . . so there’s no way our problems could ever compare.”
She kept so many things from Mom and Dad throughout the years that by college, denial was just another reflex. No, she wasn’t waxing her arms because someone at school called them hairy. No, she didn’t sob in her car after getting a B on the calculus final. No, her ex-boyfriend never crushed her sense of self-worth and almost cost her her career. No, she doesn’t feel insecure at work.
“Sometimes I get so sick of telling them I’m fine,” Natasha says.
“I know you do.” Suhani wraps her arm across Natasha’s back.
They sit that way until the wine and cheese are finished. Natasha slumps onto Suhani’s shoulder in the middle of the next episode. Suhani strokes her sister’s wavy hair, which is crunchy from dry shampoo. They both drift into a dreamless sleep, with the television still on, as though they’re kids again.
Twelve
Bina
You decided to wear that?” Bina takes in her daughter’s makeup- and jewelry-free face, flip-flops, and wrinkled peach cotton sari that’s unevenly pleated around her waist. They’re at one of the nicest hotels in Atlanta for a wedding reception and Natasha looks like she rolled out of bed and wrapped a sari around her like a bath towel. It’s as though she was making it a point to stand out in the sea of heavy saris and even heavier jewelry sets.
Still, Bina regrets her words the second they emerge. A part of her wants to say she’s only trying to help, but that’ll only make things worse.
Plus, Natasha’s outfit did distract Bina from the dread she’s had all week over seeing her friends for the first time since the health fair. Her stomach tightens as she thinks of the impending awkwardness. She hates how much of her identity is tied to being accepted by the people she loves. It reminds her of her first years in America. Back then, Bina spent so much time wondering when she’d finally feel like she belonged. Now, she wishes she could tell her younger self to focus less on wanting to belong with others and more on believing in herself.