THIS WAS THE oddest art show Dev had ever been to. There was . . . art, yes, though he wouldn’t have thought to call it that. Modern art, as far as he could tell. Sculptures and paintings with blobs of paint on them, and ugly portraits that didn’t look like any human he’d ever met.
There were also pancakes.
Truly, this was the oddest country. “I don’t understand the significance of this,” he murmured to Jia.
She looked up at him. The dim gallery lighting in the warehouse caught the shimmery thread of rose gold in her otherwise plain head scarf. It reminded him of the gold she’d worn when he’d spotted her for the first time. The pink matched the pink of her sweater and shoes and the wash of color over her eyelids. Something about how she color coordinated everything she wore appealed to his structured brain. “The significance of what?”
The line moved, and he automatically moved with it. He jerked his head at the table in front of them. “The pancakes?”
“Oh. It’s a pancake and art show.”
She said that like it was supposed to mean something, and he was still mystified. But they were at the front of the line now, so he couldn’t ask her. “I’ll have chocolate chip pancakes, please,” she said cheerfully.
The man behind the table poured out her pancakes onto one of the electric griddles and looked at him. Dev cleared his throat. “Yes, I shall have the same, thank you.”
He accepted his stack of pancakes on a paper plate when it was finished. He hesitated at the toppings bar, but when Jia liberally doused her pancakes in syrup, he decided to do the same. Damn his carefully constructed diet for the night, he would embrace this American experience. “Is there a place to sit while we eat?”
She paused in taking a selfie of herself with the pancakes. “Oh no. Now we look at the art.”
It took some doing, but he was able to cut through his pancake with his plastic fork after he observed her. He took a bite and nearly moaned at the explosion of sweetness in his mouth. It had been a long time since he’d eaten something as decadent as this. “Delicious.”
“They are pretty good pancakes,” Jia agreed, as they wound through the crowd. Her multi-tasking ability was impressive. She could eat and maneuver around people and use the expensive camera around her neck to film and take photos occasionally. No one glanced twice at them. Dev liked being anonymous, but it was extra nice to be anonymous with Jia.
“Are these common in America? Pancake and art shows?”
“I don’t think so. I accepted the partner request from the gallery ’cause I thought it might be unique.” She stopped in front of a painting with two yellow circles painted under three triangles. “I think this is very brave. Clearly, it’s about how we are forced to live under the tyranny of the ruling class.”
He gave her an incredulous look, and then he caught the twinkle in her eyes. He looked at the painting again, like he was seriously interpreting it. “Agreed, I feel as though it’s an indictment of colonialism and the far-reaching implications of not having self-governance.”
“Ah, how interesting.” Jia shoved a large bite of pancake into her mouth. “What about this one?”
They moved to the left. Behind him, he heard a couple whisper, “Do you see colonialism in this?”
Dev chewed. The canvas had been painted all blue. That was it. One shade of blue. “It’s a commentary on climate change.”
“In favor of or against?”
“Yes.”
He wasn’t sure, but he was pretty sure Jia’s cough was stifling a laugh. His confidence edged a little higher as they moved around the room, both of them trying to outdo the other with pretentious determinations as to the art’s meaning. They got to the last painting. “Breasts,” Jia said, deadpan. “I see breasts.”
The unexpectedly ribald humor surprised Dev so much he snorted out a laugh. She joined him, and he cherished her giggling.
He noticed some dirty looks so he jerked his head at the door. She nodded, that impish gleam still in her eye.
Dev tossed their garbage on the way out and almost placed his hand on Jia’s back to guide her before he caught himself. This had felt so much like a date that he’d forgotten himself. Not that he’d ever had a date that was this much fun, of course. “I enjoyed this, thank you for bringing me. Did you get the footage you needed?”
“Yup. I’m going to cut it in with the intro and outro I filmed today.”
“It’s a good partnership.”
“Some influencers get trips to Aruba. Me, I get the pancakes.”
“I’m sure you’ve been offered Aruba trips before.”
She smiled and stuffed her camera away. “A few. I’m not really a travel vlogger, though, and I’ve never gone anywhere without my family, so I declined those.”
“You’re here without your family,” he pointed out.
“Oh sure. I mean traveling, though, for vacation. I admire people who can go places on their own. I imagined I’d get bored without someone to share it with.”
His filming schedule had been so difficult, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper vacation, but he nodded. Dev had always hated being alone in hotel rooms and new cities. He was a bit of a homebody. “I understand that.”
“Thanks for coming. And for, like, everything.”
He didn’t want Jia’s gratitude, not when he was so delighted to even pretend date her. “No thanks necessary.”
They walked in silence for a couple minutes. Dev didn’t know where they were going, but that was okay. There were plenty of people out, and the streets were well-lit, so he didn’t really mind going nowhere. He racked his brain for questions he could ask her. That was the whole purpose of this, right? To get to know her? Not simply to have fun.
Jia beat him to it. “You seem to have a really good relationship with your niece.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. He could thank Luna for inspiring him to dig out these jeans. It felt odd to wear something so casual, but for a second, when Jia had seen him, he’d hoped it had been appreciation he’d spotted in her eyes. “I hope so. We’re making up for lost time.”
“You weren’t close to her before your brother . . .” Jia trailed off.
“No. I only saw her once or twice a year. I mostly heard about her from my grandmother.” He looked down at her. It was odd, talking about anything so personal as his family with someone who was an outsider. Dixit business stayed Dixit business. “How much do you know about my family history?”
“Not much.”
“I mean, did Arjun tell you anything, when you were talking to him? As me?”
“No. He was pretty vague whenever I tried to get personal. For obvious reasons, I see now. It was kind of like everything he said to me was from a script he was tailoring to fit me.”
He let out a half laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing. Only . . . from what I’ve seen, I believe that the words they wrote you were from a script. From Kyunki Mere Sanam Ke Liye Kuch Bhi.”
Jia stopped and faced him. “Are you serious?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t know for sure unless I read the whole exchange. You could redact your responses.” Though it was her responses he really wanted to read. It was another insight into her beautiful mind.