For the first time, the thought crosses my mind that maybe Rachel didn’t want this. With everything that’s been going on with us, maybe throwing us into the pandemonium that is my family wasn’t a great idea for Christmas this year.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye. Her knife skills are impeccable, the potatoes and onions neatly diced. No surprise. Rachel somehow excels at everything she touches. Everything except roti, it seems. I’d say it’s unfair, but I love her so much that I don’t care.
Suddenly, she looks up from the cutting board, catching me looking at her.
“You’re staring.” A ghost of a grin threatens to spread on her plush lips.
“Can you blame me?” I try to keep my tone light, but my heart is pounding in my chest.
This is the closest we’ve been to a real connection in what feels like months. Even closer than the imperceptible nod she gave me earlier this morning.
Rachel rolls her eyes, but it’s playful. I can tell the difference.
“Mom!” Aisha shouts, waving her phone in the air from the couch. “Nani wants to talk to you.”
“Why’d she call you, then, Beta?” Anjali leans her fist against her ample hips.
“Because you didn’t pick up, duh.”
“I’m busy working some magic here!”
Despite her argument, my aunt wipes her hands on a towel and strides over to speak to her mother—my grandmother—on Aisha’s phone.
This leaves me alone with Rachel. Well, as alone as we’ll be on this open-plan first floor of the cabin. Still working the dough on the rotis, I search for something to say that won’t ruin the tentative peace we found only a short moment earlier.
“You know,” I start, kneading the dough with more enthusiasm than necessary, “I was thinking…”
Rachel raises an eyebrow, her silence urging me to continue.
“That maybe we could use more getaways like this.” I try to sound casual but hopeful.
“With your family?” Her voice is guarded now.
I’m on thin ice.
“No. Just us.” I swallow hard, then gesture to her and back to me. “More moments like these, I mean. Maybe we should make a habit of leaving town from time to time.”
Her knife pauses mid-slice. The air shifts again, and that familiar disconnect threatens to creep back in.
“I’d like that.” She resumes her chopping, and from her vanished smile, I fear I’m losing more ground. “But it’s not going to happen, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
She halts her chopping again, this time boring her green eyes deep into me. “The last thing I want is for us to plan something nice, and then get disappointed when your boss inevitably calls you in for whatever emergency or fire you need to put out.”
My heart sinks all the way to my feet, but before I can respond, Auntie Anjali comes strolling back.
“Maa wanted to make sure I puree the tomatoes. It’s the way she’s always made it, and she never skips the opportunity to remind me.”
I laugh to myself, but it’s short-lived when I remember what Rachel just told me.
Anjali gestures to the food. “Focus, team. People will be hungry soon.”
Rachel and I exchange a look. I frown, trying to communicate everything I want to tell her in a single glance. After spending nearly half of our lives together, I have to trust that she’ll know what I’m trying to say.
I want to do better. I will do better. Just give me a chance to show you.
As I roll out each roti, I glance at Rachel beside me. Her hands move quickly yet gracefully, and my heart does little flips with every brush of our elbows. I’ve missed being this close to her. So much so that I have to actively focus to keep it together and not trigger a hard-on while my entire family chills in the background.
