Andy asked Raji, “So how are you liking California, yeah?”
The two women were sitting in a corner of the deck, huddled together because the warmth from the heating towers and bonfires didn’t quite reach that corner. They were both giggly and getting more drunk as the night went on.
As Peyton walked by, he handed Raji another red plastic cup filled with the dry white wine that she liked and winked at her.
Raji nearly flippin’ melted. Damn.
She said to Andy, “California is fine. It seems like everyone is getting married but me, though. I’ve had to fly back here three times this year for weddings. Not that I want to get married. I’m not cut out for that.” For the heartbreak. For the desperate pleading and sobbing that came at the end. “But everyone else is dropping like flies.”
Andy asked, “How’s Aarthi doing?”
Raji flinched. Her cousin, Aarthi, had chosen to let her parents arrange her marriage to a stranger rather than run away with the white guy who was the love of her life and get cut off. “She’s been getting along fine with the boy’s family, but now she says they’re having trouble having a baby.”
Andy’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. That’s too bad. What is her mother-in-law saying?”
“You know how those traditional families are. Her mother-in-law is talking about buyer’s remorse.”
“It’s ridiculous that we’re even having this conversation. Is she going to divorce him? Or are they going to force her out?”
Divorce. Even the word made Raji nauseated. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen. It’s a good thing you dodged the arranged-marriage bullet, huh?”
“Well, if I ever have fertility problems, at least I’ve got a sister to have a baby for me. Aarthi doesn’t have any sisters, does she? I don’t remember.”
Aarthi had been a year ahead of them in high school in New Jersey but had gone to B-school instead of becoming a doctor or a lawyer. “Nope. She has one brother.”
“This is where having one of those big Indian families would be a good thing, lots of sisters to choose from when you’re selecting a uterus to borrow. What is she going to do?”
“They can’t just adopt any old baby, of course. Her family and his are all Brahmins. Brahmins are more concerned about bloodlines than race horse breeders.”
Andy ducked her head, but she was laughing behind her hand. “Tell me about it. I just married a white boy.”
Raji flapped her hand, dismissing Andy’s overly strict family. “Oh, you know that as soon as you have a baby, they’re all going to come running back. Indian babies are the cutest babies ever, and even being half-white couldn’t ruin a baby of yours. Your genes are strong.”
“Oh, my God, Raji. You are so bad. First of all, we are not having kids for a few years. I have to finish my residency.”
“Oh, yes. God forbid that you should deviate any more from the plan your parents laid out for you when you were three years old.”