He narrowed his eyes at her over the screen.
She let it sink in for a moment. “I haven’t posted it or anything. It’s just ready for when you are. Mom approved. And Shelly.”
“You’re going to put me on shaadi.com? Where Mom goes?” He shuddered.Eww.But at least Hetal seemed to have dropped the Riya idea.
“So what? We know your type.”
“You know nothing about mytype.” But he did. She was about five-six, with luxurious long dark hair and dark brown eyes that could pin you to a wall. She was strong, inside and out, but good luck breaking that barrier. He’d almost broken through once. But that was a long time ago, and when he messed things up, Riya had put that wall up fast and strong. He went back to his electronic medical records, or EMRs, as they called them in the office.
“I’m just saying it’s been, like, three years since...you know...thebreakup.” She used air quotes. “And, yes, you have a type. It’s the opposite of Sharmila.” She rolled her eyes as she said his ex-girlfriend’s name. “But a lot like Riya Didi.”
He’d almost been engaged. Just as he was making plans to buy a ring and pop the question, Sharmila had dumped him. Something about him being too serious. He didn’t really understand it, but he wasn’t as torn up about it as one might have thought. If he remembered correctly, his sister had never really cared for her, either. That should have been a red flag. Even now, he had no feelings about their breakup either way.
“If you want to talk about my social life, call Ryan. He’s trying to set me up, too. You can all have a blast while I work and don’t go out,” he grumbled. Though there was a small part of him that thought he should at least consider it. Pining away for Riya Desai was no way to live life.
Riya had moved in next door when they were both five. Being a boy, Dhillon had been drawn to playing with Samir, who, at the ripe age of ten, was the coolest boy Dhillon had ever met. Samir, while a doting brother, wasn’t going to spend all his time with five-year-olds.
Riya, meanwhile, had been content to play by herself. Her imagination was vivid, and she was fearless. When Dhillon joined her to play, she accepted him without question, and Dhillon’s little five-year-old heart warmed to her instant acceptance. They took Samir’s scooter and pretended they were in space. They went to the playground across the street (where Samir was supposed to watch them) and jumped off the swings, pretending they could fly.
As an only child at the time, Dhillon relished having playmates and was in awe of the bond that Samir and Riya clearly shared. Both Riya’s and Dhillon’s extended families were still living in India at the time, so the Voras and the Desais did what immigrant families did: they made their own extended families. They looked out for one another, shared meals and childcare, among many other things. They also got together for all the holidays: Diwali, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Rakshabandan.
The last one was always a bit awkward for Dhillon, as his sister wasn’t born until he was ten. The Rakshabandan when he and Riya were nine was probably the weirdest.
“Riya,” Radha Auntie had said gently, her eyes flicking to Dhillon, “why don’t you tie a rakhi on Dhillon?”
Panic had flushed through Dhillon because even at the age of nine, he had known that Riya was most definitely not like a sister to him at all.
Riya had coolly passed her gaze over Dhillon, then turned to her mother. “Mom,” she had stated with the patience and attitude of someone who was explaining something to a toddler, “Dhillon is not my brother. He’s my best friend. Samir is my brother.”
Young Dhillon had sighed in relief.
“Maybe I will call Ryan.” Hetal’s response pulled him back to earth. She was undeterred. All Voras were like this. Stubborn and focused.
A few more minutes into his EMRs and Hetal was still sitting there, her fingers tapping on his makeshift desk, still biting her bottom lip. Okay...so she didn’t want to talk about his social life. He moved the monitor away again and faced her.
“What’s up, little sister?”
She sat up straighter and placed her hands on the table. “Don’t get mad.” She reminded him of when she was little and had got caught doing something she shouldn’t have been doing.
“Okay. I won’t get mad.” Experience had taught him that he needed to keep his voice even. Much like dealing with a scared animal.
“Promise?”
“Hetal, what’s going on? Are you pregnant or something?”
She screwed up her face. “No, Bhaiya. I’m completely capable of not getting pregnant.”
Dhillon squeezed his eyes closed and squirmed in his seat. His sister’s sex life was not something he cared to think about. “Then what? Spit it out.”
She widened her eyes. “I’m not sure...I want to be a vet.”
Dhillon stared at her. She’d wanted nothing more than to be a vet for as long as he could remember. He pushed aside the blip of disappointment that popped up. This was not about him; it was about his sister and her future. “Okay, so what do you want to do? You’re a sophomore. You still have time to check things out.”
“You’re not mad?” She seemed surprised.
“No, I’m not mad.” He smiled. “But you need another plan.”
Hetal’s face brightened, and she became animated again. “Well, I still might want to be a vet. I mean, I love the animals, and I love working here... It’s just... I’m not sure. A lot of my friends are clear on wanting to go to med school or grad school or whatever. I’m not sure I have that clarity, you know?”
