“Young man, what’s your name?”
“Alexandros Veronis, but please call me Alex.”
“Alex, I am too old for you, but your eggplant fritters last night? They took me back to my younger days, to my first love. Did I ever tell you about him, Moti?”
I shook my head.
“Prem Prakash Pyarelal. He sold vegetables in the market with his father. My mother took me with her all the time, because he always slipped something extra into our bag when he saw me. Whenever his father caught him, he got smacked in the head, but it didn’t stop him. He told me I had the most elegant fingers he’d ever seen. He used to leave food outside our door. Random things…tworotisand a block of jaggery, half aladoowrapped in foil, a carrot that was half orange, half purple. I remember stuffing two pillows under my blanket one night and sneaking out to meet him. We had a picnic under the moon. He fed me eggplant fritters. It was the most scandalous thing I’d ever done. He was Hindu. I was Christian. My parents had a fit when they found out. It was a small town. Someone saw me with him. Reputations were at stake. I was married within a fortnight and whisked off to the city. I never saw him again. And you know…we never kissed. We barely spoke. He smiled, and I smiled and most of the time, we sat on a bench and stared at the grass. The whole time, I was so happy, I thought my heart would burst.
“Last night, eating those fritters, I remembered how thrilling it all was. The secret looks, the butterflies in my stomach, the half-empty bottle of perfume he slipped into my hands. I wish I did more scandalous things, but my time has passed. Now, this one here…” Naani placed her hand over mine. “She has her whole life ahead, but you know what she’s doing? She’s angling for that guy over there.” Naani pointed to Nikos, seated behind the pane of glass separating us from the salon. “Why? Because he has three thumbs.” She slapped her thigh and hooted. “Because that’s the only man her mother will have as her son-in-law. I think it’s high time she gave everyone the—”
“Naani!” I glared at her.
“They want an extra digit? Here.” Naani stuck her middle finger out. “Ehhh?” She held it up toward the salon, where everyone remained oblivious to her salute. She waved it at the sea, the sky, the whole world. “You don’t need a man with three thumbs, Moti. Just one with magic in his hands. One who will hold your heart as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. See this man here, standing right in front of you? He can transform onions into chocolate. If that’s not magic, I don’t know what is. We’ll have to do something about his hair, but—”
“I’m so sorry.” I apologized to Alex, while simultaneously trying to contain Naani’s rebel finger. I wasn’t really sorry. I was embarrassed that Alex knew about my quest for Mr. Three Thumbs, so I was cringe-shushing Naani’s finger. “Shedidsay your food does strange things to her.”
It’s your fault, Alex. Your cooking is messing with our brains.
“Come, Naani. I’ll see you to your cabin.”
We left Alex on the deck, with a strange expression on his face. He was probably thinking,Wait, what’s wrong with my hair?
“This is what I should’ve done a long time ago.” Naani was not going down without a fight. “This is what I wanted to do all those years I was married to your Naana. Tell him to piss off, and everyone else along with it.”
She held her veiny hand up high, the offensive gesture still in place. I draped my shawl over it, but now it looked like I was carefully escorting a giant, tented erection to her cabin.
By the time I said goodnight to Naani and made my way up to the sky deck, the sun had set. Birds were flying home against a pomegranate sky. Bits of conversation drifted up from the lower deck, where everyone was finishing up dinner. I cocooned myself up in my shawl again, lay on the leather sectional, and stared at the sky. It was becoming my favorite thing to do. I didn’t get to see stars often enough at home. One by one they appeared, as darkness swept across the heavens.
How far must they be that I don’t feel them burning? Do they feel each other’s warmth, or do they spend eternity being cool and blue and distant? Shining and looking pretty.
“Mind if I join you?” It was Joseph Uncle, a cup of coffee in one hand and dessert in another.
I sat up and made room for him. He balanced his coffee on the armrest and offered me his cake.
“It’s good,” he said, when I declined. He had a forkful and stared at the horizon. “Do you miss having your father around, Moti?”
Joseph Uncle had never broached the subject before. Something was obviously on his mind. “I don’t remember having him around,” I said. “I was two when he left. I know I can go to him if I need anything, but we’ve never been close. Do I miss having a father figure I can turn to every day? Of course. But I have you to boss me around at work.” I laughed, but his expression remained gloomy. “Are you okay? Did you and Rachel Auntie make up?”
“Rachel is ashamed of me, Moti. And so is Isabelle. All this time, I didn’t even know. I didn’t know what they really thought of me.” He had another bite and kept his eyes on the silhouette of the distant shore. I’d never seen Joseph Uncle so sad.
“It’s not like that,” I said. “The wedding is stressing everyone out.”
“Rachel and I were different, you know? We married for love. In that day, in that time and place, we were an exception. Your father and Dolly? They were introduced by their families. Rachel and I held our breath as they got to know each other, because it was customary for the older sibling to get married before the younger one. I had to wait until Dolly tied the knot before I could ask for Rachel’s hand in marriage. Our wedding was the happiest day of my life. When Isabelle was born, our world was complete. I started seeing myself through their eyes. I thought I was a good husband, a good father. But now, I feel like I’ve been an embarrassment all along. One they’ve been putting up with because I’m also their meal ticket.”
“That’s not true. Rachel Auntie could have married that newspaper mogul her father had lined up for her. But she chose you. She fought for you. And she has her own things going on. I know you think of them as hobbies, but she feels good when she’s contributing financially too. Are you really going to let a box of underwear get in the way of the big picture?”
“It was a pretty big box,” he said, finishing his cake.
“I’m sure it was.” I chuckled, wishing I’d seen the look on George and Kassia’s faces when he’d presented it. I understood why Joseph Uncle saw nothing wrong with it. He took pride in what he did. If he were a baker, he would’ve given them a basket full of loaves. But he sold underwear—crotchless, seamless, G-string, V-string, leather, lace, and the elephant-faced ones with a hollow trunk to hold a man’s ding dong. Thongs were his thing, so he didn’t understand why it would embarrass his wife and daughter.
“You need to stop taking it so seriously and go make up with Rachel Auntie and Isabelle,” I said.
“No. Not this time. This time they crossed the line. Let them come to me.” He drained his coffee and got up. His ego-wounded frame disappeared as the elevator doors shut behind him.
A moment later, they re-opened and Nikos strutted out—blue jeans, black shirt, slicked-back hair. Something shifted in my belly.
Yes!
