She reaches into her gold sparkly clutch and wraps her hand around the folded place card that has her name and table number. The seating cards are at the entrance of the hall on a large round table with tea-light candles and a brass statue of Ganesha in the middle. Bina spots hers right away. Anita’s is next to hers, with the same table number in the same elegant calligraphy. What’s Bina supposed to do all night? Smile and act like everything’s okay? She should have put Vaseline on her teeth, an old trick she used during her acting days to help her hold a grin for long periods of time.

“Mom. Seriously? Hi to you, too.” Natasha groans as she sticks a toothpick into a cube of chili paneer, her favorite appetizer at Indian weddings.

Now that Bina has a second to notice, the entire cocktail-hour space smells like chili paneer, alcohol, and an array of perfumes. Bina could bottle up that combination and name it Desi Wedding.

Bina exchanges hellos and brief updates with people who pass by them. She knows people aren’t supposed to like small talk, but she loves it, always has. It’s always been one of her favorite parts of going to weddings.

“Dad,” Natasha says, unaware or nonchalant to the fact that everyone can hear her. “Whenever Mom is done socializing with every single person here, can you tell her to back off with me? Who even cares what I look like here? We barely know these people. They only invited us because they invited everyone.”

Natasha does have a point. But Bina doesn’t tell her that. It’s been three weeks since she moved out of the house. Three weeks of Bina wondering if Natasha is okay, what in the world she’s filling her time with, and how fulfilled she can really be living on Suhani and Zack’s couch. The second Bina saw her daughter walk into the Whitley Hotel Atlanta Buckhead event hall, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to yell at her or tell her she missed her and wants her to come home.

Deepak puts his arms around Natasha. “You look great, beta.”

“Thank you.” Natasha gulps her wine and gives Bina a see-I-told-you type of smile. Looping Deepak into her woes has been her daddy’s-girl tactic since she was a toddler.

Deepak extends his arms and motions for Bina to come closer. Bina’s shoulders drop. Even if she and Natasha find a way to disagree on, well, everything, something about being in her presence just feels so familiar, so comforting.

Natasha rests her head on Bina’s shoulder. “So, Mom, on more important topics, it looks like Chand Uncle is already revved up for the dancing part of the night.”