“Right . . . but I’m really more interested in their technology program,” Dimple said, forcing herself to stay polite.
Seema shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with this show of assertiveness, but Ritu auntie only waved her off, as if she thought Dimple was being demure—who on earth went to college with anything but the aspiration of landing a marriageable partner? Dimple thought of Insomnia Con, of Jenny Lindt, of SFSU, of Stanford. Of all the things she’d jeopardize if she called Ritu auntie a backward, antifeminist blight on democratic society.
Thankfully, Mamma returned then, arms trembling from holding a heavy silver tray laden with a teapot, teacups, and cookies and plates. “Chalo, chai aur snacks ho jayen! And, Seema, I brought you extra shakkar for your sweet tooth!” She guffawed overjovially, and Dimple had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at Seema’s frozen expression. The woman was so uncomfortable with Mamma’s interest in her, and yet she had no idea how to put a stop to it. Dimple felt bad for the other girl, but not bad enough to say anything—attention on Seema just meant less on her.
Mamma set the tray down on the coffee table, and everyone helped themselves.
“So, where is Stanford, exactly?” Ritu auntie said between bites. “San Francisco?”
There was a strange sort of stillness from Mamma’s side of the couch, which Dimple tried, and failed, to decipher. “Um, not quite,” she said, turning back to Ritu auntie. “It’s about forty minutes south of San Francisco proper.”
“Pity,” Ritu auntie replied, grabbing another cookie just as Seema was reaching for the same one. Seema’s hand seemed to shrivel, and she straightened up, giving up on cookie retrieval completely. Mamma, smiling smugly, put two cookies on a plate and handed them to Seema. Ritu auntie, oblivious to the entire exchange, went on. “San Francisco is supposed to be such a beautiful city. Full of opportunities for the young.”
Okay, Dimple could not have asked for a more perfect opportunity if she’d crafted it from rainbows and sunbeams herself. She cleared her throat. Perhaps with Seema in the room, Mamma might want to appear more magnanimous. “Actually, it’s interesting you bring that up,” Dimple said. She took a sip of hot tea to bolster herself. “There is an opportunity in San Francisco this summer I’m interested in. Do you remember me telling you about it, Mamma?” She forced herself to keep her face calm and slack, like asking her parents to drop a grand on this sort of thing was something she routinely did, NBD.
“Mmm?” Mamma looked distracted, blowing on her tea. “Oh, something about . . . web development?”
Wow. Dimple had underestimated Mamma—maybe she really did pay attention. “Haan, that’s right!” She smiled encouragingly. “Insomnia Con at the SFSU campus. It starts in three weeks, and it’s such a fantastic program. Some of the greatest minds in technology have been through it. It’s six weeks long, and you learn so much. It would really help me prepare for Stanford. But it’s pretty expensive . . .” She trailed off, reddening when she noticed Ritu auntie watching with interest. Even Silent Seema seemed to be studying Dimple’s reflection in the silver tray.
“It sounds worth it to me, if it will help your career,” Ritu auntie said into the silence. Dimple looked up in surprise. Not that she wasn’t thankful for the help, but she had to wonder at this sudden interjection. Since when did Ritu auntie think in terms of benefiting a woman’s career? “Why don’t you discuss it with Vijay, Leena?”
Dimple looked at Ritu auntie in disbelief, and Ritu auntie winked at her.
After a moment, Mamma bellowed for Papa to come over. “Vijay! Idhar aayiye!”
Papa came in, a wary expression on his face that he quickly converted to a warm smile for the visitors. “Ritu, Seema, hello.”
Seema didi immediately shot to her feet and pressed her palms together. “Namaste, Vijay uncle.”
“Please, sit, sit.” He took a seat by Mamma, and then, after the briefest of pauses, reached out and snagged a Milano.
Mamma and Dimple both said, “No!” but he stuffed the cookie into his mouth before they could stop him and then grinned sheepishly.
Dimple put two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Papa, you’re a diabetic!”
Mamma sighed overdramatically. “Kya aap mujhe vidhwaa chodna chahte ho?”
Dimple rolled her eyes at her mother’s words. “It’s diabetes, Mamma. I don’t think he’s going to die and leave you a widow anytime soon.” Ritu auntie was watching this little family drama with interest, but Seema looked like she’d rather be anywhere else but here.
“If he doesn’t take his medication like he is supposed to, he will! Checking his blood sugar, eating a balanced diet—he doesn’t want to do any of this!”
The tips of Papa’s ears began to turn pink, and he cleared his throat. “Okay, okay. Now, why did you call me?”
The air in the room tensed. Mamma adjusted her salwar kameez and looked at Dimple. “Tell him what you told me.”
Barely daring to breathe, Dimple repeated verbatim what she’d told Mamma. “I have the link to the website, if you want to look at it,” she finished.
Papa and Mamma looked at each other. It always amazed her, how they could seemingly communicate without speaking. She wondered what that was like, that level of intense bond. Though she’d take to wearing kaajal every day before she’d admit it, Dimple sometimes felt a pang at the thought of never having that. Because, she was sure, the kind of bond Mamma and Papa had would require a self-sacrifice she would never be okay making.
Finally, Papa turned to her. “Yes, I would like to see the website. But I think your Mamma and I both feel that you should go.” His cheeks were tinted vaguely pink, as were the tips of his hairy ears, like he was embarrassed by this show of caring.
A beat, two beats, three. Dimple blinked, not quite sure what had happened. And then her body caught up with her brain.
“Oh my God, thank you both!” she squealed, throwing her arms around them.
Seriously? Was that all she had needed to do this entire time? Ask Mamma for things while Ritu auntie and Seema didi were present?
Her parents chuckled and patted her on the back. She pulled back and grinned at them, still not able to completely believe it. They were letting her go to San Francisco to attend Insomnia Con, just like that. It felt unreal. She should buy Ritu auntie a present.
“This is toh great news!” Ritu auntie clapped her hands together. “Leena, before she goes, you must take her to buy some new salwar kameez.” The older woman appraised Dimple’s current outfit with pity. “Clearly she could use the help, na . . .”
“Good idea. And kaajal, of course,” Mamma said, nodding sagely.
Okay, maybe no present for Ritu auntie.
CHAPTER 3
The girl was scowling. Literally scowling.