“You’re ridiculous.” Simran laughs and sits on a barstool next to him as Vishal orders their drinks. “Where’s your girl? Ami, right?”
He nods. “We haven’t caught up about her, or anything, in so long.”
“I know! There’s been so much going on,” she says.
“Yeah? Wedding planning been crazy? You’re practically at the one-year mark.”
“Oh, I know,” she says. “Yeah, the planning has been crazy, and I’ve also been working a lot for school. It’s really picked up, and I’ve had to buckle down. Make sure all my shit’s together.”
“How’s that going?” Vishal asks.
“Fine,” Simran says. “I’m putting together my final project for the program. It’s been a lot of work. Sometimes, I lose motivation—”
“Don’t we all?” Vishal asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Definitely. But it’s fine. I’m getting through it.”
“Well, you’re almost done,” Vishal says. “It’s a big year for you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. There are so many things going on. And it almost feels like they’re happening so quickly that I can’t process them all. Or really grasp how much is really going to be different soon.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m excited, and I’ve prepared for all of this for so many years. But I guess I’m beginning to see that there are expected things I have to do . . . for work and the wedding. I just want to make sure that in the midst of all that, I’m still me. That I don’t let parts of myself slip away in the name of being a good Indian girl.”
“Ah, a good Indian girl.” Vishal leans back and peers at Simran as though he’s seeing straight into her thoughts. He has that ability to be an active, nonjudgmental listener, something Sheila often lacks. Simran’s worried that if he keeps his eyes on her, if she keeps talking, they’ll stumble into a territory she won’t be able to climb out of.
“Anyway, this is way too heavy of a talk for a place like this,” Simran says as she motions toward a group of college kids taking tequila shots. “Tell me about you and Ami.”
Vishal has been on every app and matchmaking site that exists. Simran and Sheila have heard stories about his adventures everywhere from Dil Mil, Coffee Meets Bagel, and his favorite, Bumble. Though Simran commends his persistence, she’s worried those apps make it easier to assume there’s always another option close by. Her uncle Rajan Kaka claims many of these sites work similarly to arranged marriages in India, by aligning people based on their values, family backgrounds, views on finances, etc.
Vishal and Ami met through Tinder of all ways. To be fair, it was sort of an accident. He signed up as a dare, and Ami made a profile before realizing it was a full-on hook-up app. (Simran had made a note to herself to remind Rajan Kaka that Tinder was nothing like an arranged marriage setup.) They’ve been dating for two months, and tonight will be the first time Sheila and Simran meet her.
“Ha-ha. She’s not here yet. And she’s not my girl. Yet.” He drums his palms against the bottom of his light green polo.
“Ooh, so things are going in that direction?”
“Yeah, our last date went really well. And so far, there’s nothing wrong with her. She’s really bubbly, always talks to strangers. I like that.”
“That’s great. You need someone social. Just don’t go looking for things to pick on now,” Simran says, pointing a stern finger in his face. She and Sheila have heard of too many instances where Vishal rejected someone for some minor “issues.” Vishal’s parents remind him every chance they get that if he would just be a little more open-minded and a little less picky, they could help him meet the perfect Indian girl who meets all their standards.
“Where’s your fiancé?” Vishal asks, looking over Simran’s shoulder. “How are you guys?”
“Yeah, things have been great since he’s been back from Africa.” She nods. “I can’t believe it’s already been a month. He’s getting ready to study for his finals. I guess everything that happened while he was gone could just be attributed to a rough patch. We’ve gotten our rhythm back. And he appreciates that I’ve been essentially living at his place, making him snacks while he studies. He really has been trying, for the wedding and us. He even watched Miss Congeniality with me on Sunday for the millionth time.”
She reminds herself of a quote she once picked up from an episode of Oprah, her go-to source for wisdom when she came home from school. In a relationship, always trust that the other person is doing the best they can.
“You both always make it through,” Vishal says. “I mean, shit, that’s why you’ve been together this long. So then I take it you’re no longer talking to Neil?”
“Uh, well, not really.” Simran turns toward Vishal.
Vishal raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? You are still talking to him?”
“Sort of,” Simran says.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t feel like I can just stop talking to him,” Simran says. “There’s something about him. He’s brilliant and inspiring, yes. And he makes me want to do more. Think outside the box. But he’s also the kind of person I’d want to be best friends with.”
“I do get that.” Vishal motions to the bartender for another bottle of Sam Adams. “Is there any harm in being friends with Neil?”
“No harm, I guess, except Kunal’s still uncomfortable. That’s part of the reason things have been going well. Neil and I have dwindled down to texts,” she says.
Simran’s mom and Nani used to tell her that men didn’t have to give up much for marriages to work. Women had to leave their family, join another one, put aside their own aspirations on a whim, and sever any ties from their pasts.
“Neil’s actually at a place close by,” she tells Vishal. “Asked if we want to join.”
“Why don’t we go and say hi?”
“And have Kunal freak out? No, thank you. We’re supposed to be wedding planning, and you know what a beast that is. You’d think it would be easy for my family because we’ve already done this for Ronak, but it’s an entirely new ball game when you’re the bride’s side.”
“Don’t even get me started. I’ve had enough of that crap,” Vishal says, referring to his older sister’s wedding from the previous year. “These Indian weddings are out of control. We decide we want to go all out and have the traditional events and then it just becomes overwhelming as shit. In some ways, we take the worst of Indian and American customs.”