The door opened. Rohan was back. And he wasn’t alone.
Jana Suleimanwasback in town. She was in Kamila’s house.
And Kamila’s dog was barking and growling at her as if the Antichrist herself had walked in.
See? Kamila’s dog had impeccable taste.
Chapter 5
Why. Was. Jana. Suleiman. Here.
A month early, or a week early, or whatever. She wasn’t supposed to be in Toronto. And shereallywasn’t supposed to be at Kamila’s party.
And most of all, Rohan wasn’t supposed to have been the one who brought her here.
The golden child, returning to the world of mere mortals. The warmth and admiration on Rohan’s face made Kamila want to puke. Everyone’s faces—all her closest friends—basking in the glow of that flawless, dewy skin. Ugh. What kind of toner did Jana even use? The tears of sirens or something?
But Kamila needed to play along, too. This was asecretnemesis.
“Jana! What a surprise! You’re here!” She kissed both of Jana’s cheeks, ignoring the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine wafting from Jana the Great’s invisible pores. “How wonderful to see you. Come, let’s get you some biryani.”
Jana didn’t say much as Kamila loaded her plate with biryani, pakoras, and coconut cake. But then, Jana rarely said much to Kamila. Ever. It was strange. Like Rohan, Jana had been in Kamila’s life literally since she was born, and yet with Rohan, Kamila felt familiarity, warmth, and comfort. With Jana? Always coolness, even before the Bronx Bennet episode. She was like a stranger. No one else seemed to have noticed, but it was clear to Kamila that Jana disliked her as much as Kamila disliked Jana.
“Shall we start the movie?” Kamila said loudly over everyone’s chattering, all looking for details about Jana’s work in Central Asia. Even Tim, who minutes ago was so impatient to get the movie started, was hovering around the newcomer in the room. After a bit more wrangling, Kamila finally managed to get everyone to sit for the darn movie.
But still, even after she’d pressed Play on Netflix, Jerome, who was an anesthesiologist, asked, “So, does Doctors Without Borders have an outpost in Tajikistan?”
Kamila cranked the volume up.
But the movie was completely ruined. Even the adorable Shahid Kapoor scolding the sari-clad Kareena Kapoor couldn’t sweeten Kamila’s sour mood. Also, the actors’ matching last names were suddenly giving Kamila uncomfortable brother/sister vibes. After trying valiantly to pay attention, she finally gave up and watched Jana instead of the subtitles on the film.
Her thick, silky hair was now almost shoulder-length instead of in the no-nonsense pixie she’d had the last time Kamila saw her. Her cheekbones were more pronounced—what did they feed her in Central Asia anyway? But she looked healthy enough—if a little tired. She was wearing loose cream trousers paired with a blush-pink oversized cable-knit sweater and a wide gray headband pushing her hair off her face. Minimal makeup and striking dark-red glasses frames. Tiny, composed, perfect. Kamila felt like an Amazon clown in her floral dress. She patted her hair that she’d spent an hour drying into tousled curls. Even it felt like too much. Maybe she should cut her hair short like that. How long would it take to grow out her bangs?
There was no logical reason why Kamila and Jana shouldn’t have grown up the best of friends. They were the same age. Their parents had been tight since forever, and Dad still saw Jana’s mom several times a week. But Jana had always been a combination of reserved and studious, which clashed profoundly with Kamila’s childhood reputation as a foul-mouthed troublemaker. After so many years of every adult in Kamila’s life saying things like “Why can’t you be more like Jana! Did you hear she won a fellowship?” it was no wonder Kamila deeply resented Jana the Great.
The movie finally ended, and Kamila tried to herd her guests out so she could clean and wallow in her newly reemerged inadequacies, but her friends were feeling chatty. Well, at least some of them. Most left, but Asha, Nicole, and Rohan stuck around to “help clean up.” And Jana. Jana stayed. Jana should really have gone home.
“It must feel weird to be back after so long. If you need anything to help settle in, let me know,” Asha said warmly. Because of course. Asha was warm. It was her thing. Even when her best friend was mid existential crisis.
“It will take time for me to reacclimate, but I’ll be fine. I’m used to traveling.” Jana still spoke with that posh accent. Everyone assumed it was from years of studying in the UK, but Kamila could swear that Jana talked fancy like that before Oxford. Jana started collecting glasses scattered throughout the living room.
“Please, Jana,” Kamila said, laying it on probably too thick. “You’re a guest—you don’t need to clean. You must be exhausted. Here, let me get you some spring rolls. Food always helps me with jet lag.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t. My mother made samosas today and I ate much too many. And actually…” She paused, looking down. “I only arrived in Toronto today, but I’ve been at my former employer’s head office in Washington, D.C., for the last week. My jet-lag has long passed.”
Kamila squeezed the glass in her hand. Rohan saw homemade samosas at Rashida’s—today. Hehadgone there before Kamila’s.
“D.C.? Really?” Asha said. “What—”
“Rohan,” Kamila interrupted. “What do you want me to do with the rest of the biryani? I’ll put it in a container. Hey, Asha, tell them about that massive Tupperware store we found down by the waterfront. So weird!”
The front door opened. Dad was home.
“Oh good, you’re all still here!” He passed around hugs and kisses on cheeks before smiling at Jana. “Your mother is waiting up, Jana. Kamila, were you surprised to see her? I didn’t expect it! And when Rohan came with the pakoras, he convinced her to join you for the movie!”
Kamila smiled blandly and resumed spooning biryani into a container while everyone talked.
“It’s been a long night,” Dad said. “I saw Anil Malek in Jamatkhana, and we went over some of the plans for his incubator project.”
