But the relief Jana felt the moment she learned that he and Nadia weren’t a couple told Jana she didn’t trust Anil as much as she claimed to. And that Jana had a lot of repressed shame over possibly being the other woman again. It had partially been the shame that had made her push him away.
But shame over the past wasn’t worth giving up happiness now. Nadia had figured that out—she was still happy with Darren and had made amends with Anil. Farzana Aunty and Sam had figured it out, too. Now it was Jana and Anil’s turn. The image of the statue wouldn’t leave her head. He bought a carving of a happy family of three. They couldmaybe, miraculously, be that.
Jana needed to do something. Apologize to Anil for not trusting him first. And then…what? How could she fix this family?
When Jana got through her front door with one box balanced on top of the other, she was surprised to see a light on in the kitchen. She set the boxes near the steps and took her shoes off. Mom was cooking? At nine o’clock at night?
“You okay, Mom?” Jana asked, walking into the kitchen.
Mom looked up and smiled at Jana. “Oh good, you’re home. Come, beta.”
Frowning, Jana stood next to her mother at the kitchen counter. Mom was mashing a bowl of potatoes, and there was a package of samosa wrappers and a bowl of shredded cheese nearby.
“Why are you making samosas now?” she asked.
Mom smiled. “When Anil came to get Imani today, he said something that made me think…You should bring some samosas over there for her.”
“Why?”
Mom shrugged as she dumped the bowl of grated cheddar cheese into the warm potatoes, along with some ginger-garlic paste and chopped cilantro. She mashed it together with the potato masher. “To make things easier for him in case Imani doesn’t want to eat. There is no reason for the two of you to be managing Imani separately—why not be a team? You can bring these to him before the party tomorrow.”
Jana smiled. Mom was matchmaking.
“And maybe,” Mom said as she opened the pack of samosa wrappers, “it’s time you learned how to make these yourself. Because you won’t live here forever, eh, beta?”
Where exactly did Mom think Jana was going? They hadn’t really talked much since they’d looked at photo albums together that night, but things were…good. Maybe not perfect, but much better than they had been in a long time. Jana trusted that her mother really was trying to be less judgmental.
Maybe these samosas were her way of giving Jana her blessing for whatever Jana decided to do in the future.
Mom handed Jana the potato masher and the bowl. “You mash.”
Jana took over from her mother, combining the filling ingredients for the samosas while Mom mixed a paste of flour and water that she would use to glue the samosa wrappers closed after filling them.
Jana had fully intended to call Anil tonight and try to repair what she broke. But first, she wanted to repair this with her mother. Jana complained that she and her mother never had a close relationship, and she blamed her mother for her judgments and boasting, but when had Jana ever opened up about what was going on in her own life? When had she ever paused and made samosas with her?
“Something happened at the Think office today,” Jana said.
While Jana and her mother cooked together for the first time in Jana’s memory, folding the samosa wrappers into perfect triangles stuffed with the potato-and-cheese mixture and deep-frying them in hot oil until they were crisp and golden, Jana did something else that she wasn’t sure she’d ever done before. Told her mother about her problems and asked for advice.
“I don’t think people will talk about you, beta, at work. Not when they see how amazing you are at your job. Maybe they will gossip a little bit, but you just have to be better at the job to get above that.”
Jana sighed as she turned over the samosa frying in the deep pan. That had always been the answer. Do more. Achieve more. Be better than everyone…because then no one would notice the real messiness inside.
A popping sound startled Jana. “Damn it, the samosa exploded.”
Mom laughed and looked at the carnage in the pan. The samosa filling had blown out of a hole on one side. “I think you filled this one, beta. I told you not to wrap them too tight.” She took the samosa out and put it on a small plate. “If you try to make it too perfect, there is no space to breathe. The pressure is too much and they explode.”
Jana chuckled. She had no idea if her mother knew how profound that statement sounded right now. Neither of them said anything for several moments as Jana continued to fry the samosas. A few more of Jana’s exploded, but her mom’s expertly filled ones looked perfect. After Jana dropped two more triangles into the hot oil, Mom smiled at her.
“Jana, do you remember when you were eight and you stole a nail polish from the dollar store?”
Jana frowned. “I did?”
Mom nodded. “I wouldn’t buy it for you, so you put it in your pocket. But your father found it, and he was so disappointed. He grounded you. I think that was the first time we punished you. Maybe the only time. You were the good girl. Kamila and Shelina were holy terrors back then. It was just nail polish, but you were so…ashamed. You promised Daddy you would never be bad again.”
Jana vaguely remembered that shame. She’d been bad—taken a risk and been burned for it. She’d disappointed her parents. She remembered feeling like she destroyed her good-girl image.
Jana chuckled. “I still don’t wear nail polish.”
