“You must,” Mr. Chopra said. “Come along, then. We must get going. Let’s go find the happy couple and head to dinner. You ladies enjoy your evening.”
The Chopras turned and walked away toward the main dining hall. A few steps behind, Mrs. Jha took her husband’s glass from his hand and put it and her wineglass down on the bar, smiled and said good-bye to the three women, grabbed her husband by the elbow, and led him after the Chopras.
Rupak glanced at the women one last time, then turned his camera on his parents walking away.
“What was that all about?” Serena asked. “Your father was painting their ceiling?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Rupak said, starting to walk through the crowd with his camera on.
“Is this whole night like an audition for your parents to become members of this club?”
Rupak ignored her and kept walking until he had reached the far edge of the lawn, where there were only staff members entering and exiting with platters of appetizers. One of the waiters came out with a platter of what looked like miniature tacos.
“Desi tacos, madam?” he said to Serena. “They’re pulled pork vindaloo wrapped in mini dosas.”
“How is that a taco?” Serena said, picking one up and biting into it. She turned to Rupak. “Why can’t they just call it what it is?”
“What is it?” Rupak said.
“Pulled pork vindaloo wrapped in a mini dosa, like he said.”
“That doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as a desi taco, Serena,” Rupak said.
Serena put the second bite into her mouth and said, “It’s really good, though. I’ll give them that.”
Rupak didn’t answer and kept filming instead. He wondered where Elizabeth was right now. Probably in Florida on vacation. If she were here with him today, this would all be so different. It would all be fun, despite everything working hard to make it not fun.
“Why did you wear that outfit today?” he said to Serena.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. I told you where we were going. You knew what the LRC is like. Why did you wear that outfit?”
“Am I supposed to wear a tight skirt or something? This is India. I’m wearing Indian clothes. I think it’s ridiculous that everyone here thinks wearing short dresses makes you trendy.”
“Come on, Serena. You’re hardly the type to wear a sari every day. I know you prefer jeans. I’ve met your friends. What is this Mother India thing all of a sudden?”
“Did you invite me here just to fight with me?” Serena said. “I don’t even know why I agreed to come today. I guess I was hoping that somehow you’d be different. But I’m seeing you here in India and I’m realizing you’re just another rich kid coasting along on Daddy’s money. Are you even embarrassed that you got kicked out of grad school? This is going to be your life now? I can’t believe your family is the type to want to try to join a club like this.”
“You’ve done nothing but complain the whole time we’ve been here,” Rupak said. “What do you want? Do you want everyone here to donate all their money and never travel again and never enjoy themselves? There are people a lot poorer than you and I don’t see you giving up your life in America and moving into a slum. Is your life the exact boundary of what’s acceptable? Anything more becomes crass, but you having a two hundred rupee cup of coffee at Khan Market is fine? I bet someone who couldn’t afford that could also be pretty quick to pretend to look down on it.”
“Why did you invite me tonight? Not just tonight, but why did you invite me to meet your parents in Ithaca? For their sake? Do I tick off some box on a checklist of things you have to give them in exchange for their money? MBA, Indian woman, what else have you promised them?”
Rupak switched off his camera and let it rest around his neck. He turned to face Serena and looked straight into her eyes.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly why I invited you.”
“What?” Serena said.
“You’re completely right,” Rupak said. “And I’m actually glad you said it out loud because I need to hear someone else say it so I can process how ridiculous it is, how ridiculous I’ve been. I’ve been an idiot. I lost someone I’m in love with and I’m about to lose a good friend.”
“You were in love with me?” Serena asked.
“No. I was in love with someone else,” Rupak said. “And I was a coward. And I’m being a coward again now. And I have to stop. Mrs. Ray is a widow who is having a love marriage. My father came out today to face the people he embarrassed himself in front of a month ago. And I invited you only to try to make my parents happy. You are completely right.”
“I’m going to go,” Serena said. “You need to get your life together. I hope you and your family find whatever it is you’re all looking for.”
“I think we have,” Rupak said. For the first time since his father had come home from work and said, “Rupak, Bindu, don’t get too excited yet, this is early stages but I got a very interesting phone call today,” Rupak felt safe again. That night, Mr. and Mrs. Jha had drunk Old Monk and laughed together until two a.m. and Rupak had felt a strange sense of doom that now he would never get out of his family’s shadow. And tonight, standing in a shadowed corner of the lawns of the LRC, he finally felt a hint of that doom lifting.
“I’m sorry, Serena,” he said, and walked toward the Chinese restaurant to find his family.
Rupak entered the dining hall and sat down next to his mother.
“Where did Serena go?” his mother asked.
“She left,” he said. “Ma, I’ve made a huge mistake.”
All around them the restaurant buzzed with other families and conversation and the clink of cutlery against plates. Waiters in Chinese-inspired silk red shirts and plain black trousers wove in and out of the tables with trays full of food or empty bowls and plates. Paintings of red dragons covered the walls, and the lights were shaped like lanterns that hung from the ceiling. The theme of dark wood and red accents gave the whole restaurant a warm glow.
“I’m in love with a woman in America. An American woman,” Rupak said. “Her name is Elizabeth and she’s from Florida and I think you’d really like her, but I also think I may never see her again.”
Rupak braced himself to see his mother’s disappointment, her sadness, her alienation. But instead she patted his hand and said, “Never say never. It’s impossible to predict the future. You tell me about her when we get home. And your father will be very happy to hear about this.”
“Ma, she’s American. White American.”
Mrs. Jha nodded.
“We can send her a ticket to come and visit you. Like I said, never say never.”
“What makes Indian Chinese food so tasty?” Mrs. Ray said, across the table.
“MSG. Exactly what makes it so unhealthy,” Upen said.
“Everything that is tasty is bad for you, Upen,” Mr. Chopra said. “But tonight we are celebrating. Friends, neighbors, good food, and new beginnings. All the MSG in the world can’t stop this.”