‘Myra, we have to go,’ my father called. He was at my door now.
‘Is this looking okay?’
I don’t know why I ask my father for an opinion on whether something works on me or not. He always says the same thing.Beautiful.
‘My daughter is looking beautiful,’ he said. It was the full sentence today, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
Chhaya is never on time,I thought as I climbed into my strappy heels. I could gag her and lock her in the bathroom for whatever was left of the evening. She was going to laugh at me.
My father looked radiant in a soft-pink kurta, but he was barefoot and looking helpless as always. I spent another 10 minutes diving around the house looking for his Kolhapuris.
I had landed in Bengaluru four days after Andrew and I’d had dinner at the Officers’ Club in Mumbai.
I wasn’t getting tickets at a decent price before that. Just as well because I was able to work out some nitty-gritties with my editor, who had been on holiday. I was going to be working from Bengaluru for the next month, and my editor was open to letting me work out of Bengaluru another six months, provided I travelled to Mumbai a couple of times every month.
I would sign those papers when I returned in another four weeks. I couldn’t wait.
Chhaya and I had made plans for this evening, but when Andrew came up with this dinner invitation, we decided to do breakfast at Perky Grace tomorrow.
Andrew was so apologetic about this late arrangement that he asked Chhaya to come along, too.
When I reached for the doorbell at Andrew’s some 20 minutes later, I told my father that we were the first to arrive.
All this fuss for nothing!
Even the main door was locked.
‘We’re the first,’ my father agreed. He was a much lighter man now, knowing that his daughter was returning home for good.
‘We should’ve brought something with us, Poppy, chocolates maybe.’ I was patting his shoulders.
With heeled footwear, I was taller than my father by an inch. The advantage afforded me the edge a parent held over her offspring.
‘I can hear people; I don’t think we are the first.’
I nodded.
I didn’t remember seeing a vase the last time I was here, so vase with flowers, I made a mental note for next time. It was too late for that now.
Andrew opened the door. He was in formals – black trousers and a crisp white shirt. It was illegal to look so good.
He was dressed like a lawyer. Playing to the guest list. Sweet!
Thank goodness I had worn a dress!
‘You clean up well, Brown,’ I said, reaching up and letting my lips brush his cheeks.
‘Baby,’ he whispered into my ear, ‘welcome.’ His eyes looked tired, and he was breathing heavily.
I spotted Neha at a distance. She was perched on the bar stool, munching on the several plates of antipasti that seemed to be all over the place.
Neha climbed down the stool carefully before claiming me in a tight hug.
‘I’m so happy to see you. Thank you again for everything, Neha.’
Her eyes were misty.
‘Stop! Andrew has done so much for me. He’ll never say it. I will when we sit down one of these days.’
