Page 5

ARUSH BAKSHI

The door to my father’s office shines like it’s glass. In a certain light, I can see my reflection as if I’m looking into a mirror. Right now, it’s bright. The sun is shining in through the windows behind me and bouncing off the shiny door like a prism. I can only see a hint of my reflection.

My skin tone blends in with the wood in the bright daylight to where I can only see my dark eyes, hints of my dark hair as the two-inch braids bleed into the night, and dark, clean-cut beard. I look like a ghost like this. A ghostly image captured in a photo by someone unsuspecting.

Yet, I can see the nerves in my eyes. They’re clear enough that I can see the anxiety as if they’re their own beacon of light.

I take a deep breath and raise my hand to knock. My hand stalls for maybe the dozenth time in the last two days. In those two days, I’ve tried to talk to him no less than twelve times. Twelve! I’m feeling very cowardly right now. I’ve never been scared to talk to my father about anything.

Why does this feel so big? So heavy?

I can’t put this off anymore, though. My plane leaves early in the morning. Now is the time. Time is up. I have to tell him.

One more deep, deep breath to the point where my lungs hurt, and I raise my hand. I’m startled when my phone starts ringing. It’s clutched tightly in my other hand, so I raise it to look. It’s my father.

Is he not in his office? Does he know I’m outside his office door? I glance around before answering the call.

“Dad?”

“Why are you outside my door?”

“How did you know I was here?” I ask, still feeling a little spooked. Has he seen me creeping out here for two days? Ugh.

“I didn’t. I need to speak to you. Come in.”

I nod, though he can’t see it. My phone slips into my pocket as I push his office door open.

My father is a lawyer, a partner of one of the biggest firms in Mumbai.

His home office, where he almost always works, looks more like a colorful lounge with cushions and soft fabrics and tchotchkes all over the place, except behind his desk.

There’s a bookshelf there filled with leather-bound books. That’s where his web camera points.

I look a lot like my father. We’re the same height, same build. His hair has some gray in it now, and there are smile lines at the corners of his eyes, but I imagine that I’ll look just like him when I’m older. The thought always makes me smile.

Especially because he always has a smile for me.

“Come in. Sit.”

I do as I’m told and pull out one of the chairs across from him.

“Are you familiar with the Sharmas?” he asks.

“Your partner at the firm, right? Daivik?”

He nods. “Yes. He has a son your age. Shivansh.”

“Okay.”

My father’s smile ticks up, and all the blood feels like it drains from my head. The room tilts a little until I force a breath down. Fuck. Oh no.

“We’ve been talking about a partnership between the two of you.”

Here’s the thing: I have a very progressive household. Like, seriously, we’re talking lightyears ahead. I never had to ‘ come out .’ That wasn’t a thing. When I started talking about liking boys, everyone just rolled with it. Which is really cool. I’ve had a very unique, wholesome experience.

Inside my household, that is. The outside world of India isn’t nearly as readily accepting as my family. It’s gotten a lot better in the last couple decades, but there’s still a lot of hate in the world.

The other thing to know is that my family has practiced arranged marriages for many generations. So many. For as far back as we have records on our family.

And the third thing—sexual relations between same-sex individuals is now legal. Woo. But any kind of legal partnership between same-sex individuals is not . Which is why I’ve always kind of brushed off the idea of an arranged marriage.

I can’t legally marry. So… what then?

Yet, here we are. I know this conversation. My sister and two of my brothers have told me almost verbatim what it comprises. This is it.

“Dad—” I begin.

He tilts his head as he studies me. We’ve never actually had a discussion about it. I know in my family, usually by our twenty-fifth birthdays, we’ve begun talking about a proposed pairing. But… it’s not legal. So I didn’t think it’d be a conversation with me.

“You’ve never expressed your disinterest in this area, Arush,” Dad says.

I’m not sure where to go with this. “Dad, it’s not legal. I’m not even sure you can make it legal.”

Understanding erases the momentary confusion. “I’m not worried about legality .”

“Says a lawyer,” I murmur, causing my father to smile widely.

“Son, just because the law doesn’t recognize it doesn’t mean our families will not.”

On the one hand, I truly love that. I love how my father has thought about my future. About making a home for me somewhere. Just as he has with my siblings.

Except…

“I need to tell you something,” I begin.

“Why you were lingering outside my door?” he asks, raising a brow.

I smile sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been trying to work up the courage.” His amusement fades, so I quickly continue. “Not that I…” I take a breath. “I met someone. Online.”

“Ah,” he says and leans back in his chair to listen.

“We met and want to be together.” This is all wildly exaggerated. I know for a fact my father wouldn’t approve of this particular method of matching.

“Tell me about him.”

“He’s American. A professional hockey player. He lives in Chicago in a condo with big windows.” I stop. That’s practically all I know. There are some personal details that I love , but I’m not sure they’re shareable without me bursting into flames.

We’ve corresponded a few times via email and text. Conversations that make my heart race. I’m ready for this. I’m ready to fall in love with this man.

My father’s nodding. That slow, thoughtful kind of nod. “That’s all you want to share?”

“He’s… twenty-two,” I offer.

Amusement washes over my father’s face. “I see.”

“He asked me to move out there—hockey isn’t the kind of job he can transfer to out here. And… there’s the fact that same-sex marriage is legal there.”

“You told him yes,” my father guesses.

I nod. Still a widely exaggerated pretense of this conversation I shared with Julian.

The agreement on the match through the website was practically the conversation having been had for us.

That’s the entire point of the website service, right?

The only part that we discussed about it is when. I said in three days. That’s tomorrow.

“You’d like a plane ticket,” he guesses.

I shake my head. “No. He’s already purchased my ticket.”

A twinkle of surprise flickers in his eyes.

“Tomorrow,” I say. “My plane leaves in the morning before the sun rises.”

“That’s very soon.”

“I know.”

“Why have you been nervous to tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to be disappointed? It means I’m leaving India and our family.”

He sighs and gets to his feet. Dad moves around the big desk to stand in front of me. He grips my head with both his hands, boxing me in his warmth, and kisses my forehead. My entire body sags in relief.

“I am not disappointed,” he says quietly, and it feels as if my heart takes a breath.

“I’m very proud of you. I want your happiness, Arush.

If this is what you want, I will support you.

But on one condition.” I look up to meet his eyes.

“The next time you come home to me, you will be bringing your husband. If that isn’t the case, you agree to this arrangement.

I know for certain you and Shivansh will share a happy life. ”

I’m not as convinced, but I nod. The entire premise of a mail-order spouse is the spouse part, right? “Okay. Deal.”

Dad smiles. “You’ve left us no time for a proper sendoff. I assume you have to finish packing?”

“Yes,” I say as he takes a step back.

“Then go. We will celebrate your impending nuptials tonight. Which, by the way, when there’s a break in this hockey job, you will come home and celebrate with us as well. Correct?”

I grin, loving that he pretends to give me a choice. “Yes, Dad.”

“Very well. Go. I’ll talk to your mother and we’ll arrange a feast tonight.”

I’m feeling much better as I get to my feet and head for my room. That is an enormous weight off my shoulders. I hadn’t necessarily realized that I thought he’d be disappointed in me. Those words surprised me when they first came out. I was more startled when I realized they were true.

I have three enormous suitcases, a carry-on, and my backpack. Most of which are packed, but I keep shuffling things around, unsure what to leave behind. I’ve pared down my toy collection because it just seemed excessive to take everything. America has sex toys, right?

As I’m rearranging for maybe the tenth time today, my phone rings again. This ring is distinct. A video call. The only people who would be video calling me are my closest friends. I glance at my door, making sure it’s closed, before I answer.

Twin faces appear as Alok and Anil stare at me from one screen. They’re brothers, two years apart in age, but they could pass for twins. Easily. There are days I can’t tell them apart unless they’re standing upright because there’s a three-inch height difference between them.

A second later, the screen rearranges to allow a third to appear as Jash joins us.

“Did you tell him yet?” Jash asks.

I sigh. “Yeah.”

“And?” Anil prompts.

“Well, besides the fact that he was calling me in to present me with my arranged marriage… It went well.”

“Wait, what?” Jash asked, looking confused.

I nod. “Yep, that was my reaction.”

“But how—?” Anil begins.

“That’s not legal,” Alok interrupts.

Laughter bubbles out of me. “I know. That’s what I said. He wasn’t concerned with the law recognizing our marriage. It would be between our families and gods.”

“I really love that,” Jash says, a soft smile forming on his mouth.

Jash had been my first boyfriend when we were teenagers. We shared literally all our firsts together. It was our relationship that made me realize I don’t like being touched in some ways by other people.

Just after school, his parents started talking about his marriage to his now wife, Chaaya. He wasn’t at all upset about his parents presenting him with a wife, and he truly loves Chaaya.

I think I was more upset because I just lost my boyfriend. It made it very difficult to warm up to Chaaya, but in reality, she’s great. I adore her. She’s also incredibly smart, a great mother, and keeps Jash in line, which was something literally nobody else was able to do.

Part of me wonders if Jash’s parents began the match so early to break us up. They seemed to really like me at the time. They never made any remarks about my relationship with Jash, which we never hid.

The whole thing felt kind of heavy and icky to me in the beginning. Obviously, I’m not concerned about it anymore, and it turns out that we make really great friends, so there’s that.

“He took the whole mail-order husband thing okay?” Jash asks, amused.

I roll my eyes, glaring at them on the screen. “I told them we met online. How we met and for how long we’ve known each other was information I didn’t disclose.”

“I’m really sad you’re leaving,” Alok says. “We don’t even have time to throw you a party or something.”

“I don’t think my family would mind if you wanted to come over tonight to celebrate with us. Dad says he was going to have Mom prepare a feast.”

“We’ll be over then,” Anil says.

Jash nods. “I’m bringing my family. You need to cuddle my kids before you disappear from their lives.”

“Ouch,” Alok says.

“It’s not forever,” I say, but that might be a lie. What if I never come home? The thought makes my stomach flip. “I will visit,” I promise, and that’s one I’m sure I can keep.

After all, I promised Dad we’d be here after hockey to celebrate our marriage, too.

I’ll be honest; I have no idea what hockey is aside from the fact that it’s a sport played on ice.

As soon as I saw Julian’s potential match come through and read his profession, I looked it up.

As it turns out, the popularity of the sport is growing in India, and I had no idea.

It was even declared the official sport of Ladakh recently.

Who knew? Certainly not me! Apparently, there are a lot of games and everything. Even right here in Mumbai. If there was more time between when I ‘ met ’ Julian and flying out to him, I’d attend a game so I could at least say I’ve seen one.

A knock on my door has me glancing at it.

I close the suitcase with my dildos. Regardless of who’s at the door, they don’t need to see that.

My only hesitation with leaving the majority of my collection behind is my snooping siblings.

There are just some things that they don’t need to know about their brother.

Then again, serves them right for snooping.

“I’ll see you guys tonight,” I say and disconnect from the call. “Yeah?” I call.

It opens, and my older brother stands in the doorway, looking at me with a brow raised. “Really?”

“What?”

He makes a pointed look at my luggage and crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re going to play dumb, huh?” Kiaan asks.

I sit on the edge of my bed and don’t answer. I’m not sure what Dad told them, but I’m not offering any information.

“How long have you been talking to a guy online and keeping it a secret?”

Two days. I shrug, not offering that information. “Did you just run over here to give me a hard time?” I counter.

Kiaan shakes his head. “No, Arush.” He steps into the room and comes toward me.

His arms unfold, and he places something in my hand, closing my fingers around it.

“I’m happy for you,” Kiaan says. “I’m glad that you found a home and a place with someone who will bring you the life you’re looking for. ”

“What life is that?”

“You’ve always been a little unsettled here.

I think exploring the world with your partner is a good thing.

Maybe you’ll decide to come back to India to raise a family if that’s what you choose.

Maybe you won’t. But I hope this man you’ve deemed good enough for your heart gives you everything you deserve. ”

Not going to lie. I wasn’t expecting that, and his words bring a lot of heavy emotions into my chest. “Thanks,” I whisper.

Kiaan nods. He squeezes my hand before turning to leave my room again. The door shuts quietly behind him. I look at the object he left in my hand, finding a small glass jar of turmeric.

I smile, closing my eyes. This is going to work. Everything is going to be perfect.