First Love, Take Two

I woke up from a much-needed nap sprawled across the bed, content, until Laura and her loss crossed my thoughts. We’d discharged her earlier today, and I wouldn’t see her again until her follow-up appointment at the clinic. I’d have to ask Dr. Wright if it was okay to send her a card with our condolences.

I scratched my back and opened sore eyes. I needed coffee. But first, I opened my new anxiety medication and downed a pill. Here’s to hoping for the best.

Daniel worked quietly in the living room, hunched over his desk with earbuds in. He shouldn’t sit that way. That was too much pressure on his neck, aggressive misalignment for his shoulders and back.

Not wanting to bother him, I started laundry, absentmindedly washing his clothes with mine, and decided to make sandwiches, a meal simplistic in skill but substantial. Let’s see, what did we have? I opened the fridge door, realizing I’d never gone grocery shopping to stock the fridge. Daniel must’ve. We had three kinds of lettuce, all sorts of produce, sliced deli meat, seven types of cheese, condiments, sauces, juices, and so on.

“Hey, you want a sandwich?” I called out.

“That’d be great,” Daniel called back.

Cool. I slapped some Black Forest ham and lettuce between two slices of healthy-looking nine-grain bread.

Daniel stretched as I moved around the kitchen and reached for a mug. Ugh. Everything was placed high because Liya was so freakishly tall.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Daniel lean back in his chair and watch me. He tapped a pencil against his chin. My arbitrary task of rearranging a few things to get mugs turned into an embarrassing struggle as my fingers accidentally pushed the mug farther back.

Daniel pushed back from his desk and stood, doing some side stretches as he approached. The extra-plush carpet hushed his footsteps as he walked to the counter. I ignored him, had to get a mug, make coffee, eat, get to practicing my presentation for Monday, and then figure out how in the world to break the news about Yuvan to my poor parents.

I reached up on the very tips of my toes and fumbled for a cup. Cold air hit my now exposed sliver of hip flesh. These pajama shorts were old and loose and this shirt was worn out and shorter than when I’d first bought it. How long had it been? Three, four years?

My hot-pink socks kept slipping on the wooden floor. I was about two seconds away from crawling onto the counter like the monkey-child my parents claimed I had been.

“Need some help?” Daniel asked.

I startled, except there was nowhere to go.

Daniel stood behind me, silent as ever—darn these noncreaky high-end floors. His chest grazed my back; his arm tickled mine as he reached up. He’d inadvertently trapped me between the counter and a hard body. I’d already been as far against the counter edge as possible.

I shouldn’t feel glee in this, shouldn’t enjoy his smell and closeness, shouldn’t want him to press into me.

Daniel’s arm slid against mine—that so, so indulgent sensation—as he gave me a mug while bringing down a few others. I grunted even as my gut clenched, throwing a mess of chaotic memories at me. His hands all over me as he bent me over, my giggles and sighs and moans. He’d felt euphoric against me.

Stop.

“Thanks,” I said, breathless and on the losing end of this battle of the flesh.

Daniel moved toward the coffeemaker. “Sounds like you were trying for a while to get those mugs. I made fresh coffee, by the way.”

“I need to rearrange the cabinets for shorter people.”

“Or I could just help you out.” He added cream to his coffee. His face was haggard, with thin lines beneath tired eyes.

On natural instinct, I cupped his face. For the briefest of moments, we both turned into pillars before he closed his eyes and leaned into my hand. I caressed his cheek with my thumb. He turned to kiss my palm.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You really want to know?”

“Daniel. You listened to my breakdown. You were there for me. Not to throw your lecture back at you, but if you’re not talking to me, then are you talking to someone?”

I started to lower my hand but he kept it in place. “Wait. Just…can I hug you?”

I stepped toward him, closing the gap between us. His hands snaked around my waist and locked me in place, his head touching the side of mine as he inhaled.

“I shouldn’t, but I really miss you.”

My gulp was audible. My heart skipped a beat, and not in the panicked PVC way, but in the be-still-my-heart way. Fighting it felt as nonsensical and pointless as fighting an avalanche, even though I knew what it would do to my parents. I found myself confessing the same to him, albeit in a restrained way. “I…miss you, too. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“Among a dozen other things.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I whispered.

His fingers pressed into my shirt. “I just don’t think I can handle my dad.”

“Of course you can.” I raked my nails through his hair.

“Constantly trying to do my best, and he’s constantly squashing everything. I have a degree from Rice and a master’s from Harvard. I’ve added my name to skylines. I’ve tackled real estate and made my own money. I do not need my father breathing down my neck and turning me into a yes-man to further his agenda while ignoring any talents of mine. Why did I even come back? Why didn’t I start my own firm? I have the clout to do it.

“I’m not going to be that guy who works himself to the bone waiting for someone higher up to praise him while being walked all over. I wanted to give us another chance to work together because…well, I suppose because I wanted to please him despite everything. The business started as something he did for all of us, something he planned on sharing with me, and we had been proud of that. I had been proud of that. But I’m just never enough. I don’t know what to do. Staying is going to kill me. Leaving will be the last straw for him.”

“Sounds like you really want to branch out on your own, Daniel. Sounds like you need to.”

“I do, but it’s a betrayal.”

I pulled back. “Could you possibly have two branches in your firm? Find a specialty that you excel in and spearhead that side? It would expand the family business, you wouldn’t be competing, but you would be in a different division and have your say. Your dad would have to give you your space, though.”

He mulled over my words. “That’s an interesting proposition.”

“Look at these frown lines.” I brushed his forehead, unable to help myself. If we could be frozen in this position, without any worries from our families, I could stay like this forever and all time.

“It’s not just his empire. He has…specific plans for me.”

“Like what?” I chuckled. “Is he being Indian and planning out a wife for you, set number of kids with astrological signs, and a position in the community for you to step up to?”

He pulled back.

I grimaced. “Oh. I was joking. Wait, does he want you to marry someone? Alisha?”

“What? You thought only Indian parents arranged marriages?”

My heart sank. It shouldn’t hurt, shouldn’t feel like a hundred slashes to my soul, splashed with rubbing alcohol and crusted over with salt scabs. It shouldn’t hurt after six years, after I was the one who initiated the breakup, after I refused to talk it out and ran. But these were the consequences of leaving Daniel. I should be happy for him. Alisha seemed like a good match. His parents certainly thought so.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he backed away to check it. “Great. Dad wants to chat.”

“Hopefully he’s open to separate divisions.”

“And if not?”

“We were both raised wanting to please our parents and making sure they’re happy, mainly because what they want for us is typically what’s best for us and they only want us to be great. But take it from me, don’t do something that’s going to mentally demolish you.”

“Coming from someone who tried to marry a man who can’t touch her.”

“I know. I haven’t told my parents. I don’t know how.” I stepped back and rested my left hip against the counter, facing him, and wrapped my hands around an empty mug as if it were filled with scalding liquid that warmed my fingertips. This anxiety medication clearly hadn’t kicked in, because just the thought of breaking my parents’ hearts had me wanting to peel my skin off.

“What’s stopping you?”

I laughed at the irony. “Looks like neither of us can be adult enough to put our foot down about who we’re going to marry.”

“You got someone else in mind?” His brow went up, inquiring.

“No,” I muttered.

“Coffee?” he asked and poured some for me.

“Thanks,” I replied, thinking of his dad’s plans for him and Alisha.

“Let me know if you want me to help you get anything else down. I forgot how short you are.”

“I am not!”

“You are, a little.” He pinched his thumb and finger together to exaggerate my shortness.

“I’m average.”

He placed his hands on the counter behind me, gripping the edge, and leaned down to eye level. “Did you not see yourself struggling to get a cup? I mean, I don’t mind pulling things down. Or giving you a boost up.”

I shrugged, diverting my gaze to the stove, the fridge, the sink, anywhere except Daniel.

“You can look at me, you know,” he said softly.

I paused, peering up from over the lip of my mug.

“You won’t combust, I promise. I have a shirt on now.”

“Think your looks are that outstanding?”

“Ouch.” He laughed. “It doesn’t have to be weird. We should be able to come home and relax. It’s just a couple more weeks, right?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes. Good. Glad that we can do that.” I slipped around him to the stove, moving his arm away with the full force of my side.

We walked around the counter and sat next to each other on the barstools.

He took a bite of sandwich. And almost choked.

I scrunched up my nose. “How bad is it?”

“It’s good.”

“You’re not the best liar. It’s okay. I know I can’t cook.”

“I mean, it’s a sandwich. Not really cooking. Just assembling.”

I gently slapped his shoulder. He feigned injury. “Ow!”

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked, pouting and studying my own sandwich, trying to figure out the equation. How hard was it to make a good sandwich?

“It’s just dry. Like…no mayo or dressing or cheese?”

“I forgot the cheese!” I yanked open the fridge and searched for sliced provolone.

“How do you forget cheese? You of all people?”

“I know! Cheese is the basic food group.” I tossed him a slice and then doused my sandwich with ranch dressing and returned to the barstool beside him.

“Why are you sitting way over there?” he asked, taking the bottom of my barstool and dragging me closer.

I squeaked and grabbed his biceps. “What are you doing? Do you know how far this fall would be?”

Daniel held me up against him, his arm low around my waist. “I’d never let you fall. Thought you knew that.”

I huffed and pushed away, my stomach doing all sorts of flips. “Eat your sandwich.” My phone pinged and lit up with a text. I slid it across the counter closer to me and read the message. “Huh.”

“What’s up?”

“Your sister invited me to church tomorrow.” I made a face, twisting my lips.

“Our church?”

“That’s weird.”

Daniel pulled out his phone and spent a few minutes texting with Brandy.

“What the actual hell?” he said and showed me his messages, looking more than a little annoyed.

Brandy: Oh yeah. Grandma was asking about Preeti and wanted me to invite her to lunch.

Daniel: Y’all having lunch without me? Cold!

Brandy: Well, they didn’t want to make it awkward for you. Come if you want.

Daniel: This sounds like a setup. Out of nowhere?

Brandy: Not out of nowhere. Grandparents always ask about Preeti. I see her all the time, and they’re always asking me to invite her over. She comes once in a while.

Daniel: Really?

Brandy: Surprise! Didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but now you know.

“Oh, I never accept the invitation to go to church. Seems so intimate,” I said nervously in response to his irritated expression.

“But hanging out with my grandparents isn’t?” he asked, his tone sharp.

“Are you upset that we keep in touch?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek.

“Nah. Just enjoying this sandwich,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm, his jaw hardening.

“You don’t have to eat it if it’s that bad.”

He placed a hand on his waist and leaned back to look at me, all dramatic-like. “No. You know what? I am mad. How the hell do you leave me without a word and then have the gall to hang out with my grandparents for the past six years?”

I froze midbite.

Daniel went rigid and snorted. “I stayed away from them, didn’t move back for a few reasons. One, I wasn’t ready to deal with my dad and this crap he’s throwing at me now. Two, I wanted to branch out and accomplish things on my own without his help. Three, you.”

I swallowed down the bile bubbling up from my stomach, acidic and eroding my insides.

He laughed derisively, squishing the sandwich between his fingers before dropping it onto the plate. “No matter how badly I missed my grandparents and Brandy, I couldn’t be in the same city where you lived because you’d crushed my heart, Pree. You devastated me.”

I blinked back tears. His voicemails, the times he’d pounded on my front door, everything he did to get me to talk to him swirled through my head. Images of the pain on his face when we broke up, the way he tried to reach for me and make me stay and talk while I literally ran off were wraiths coming out of suppression and hitting my vision full force, no longer to be held back, denied, ignored, hidden.

“And turns out you were having meals with them all this time?” he spat.

Our knees touched when he fully twisted toward me. “I think I’ve waited long enough for an answer. Time’s up.”

My entire body quivered like a fever racked my bones. I had to face my cowardice and reveal to him how weak I’d been. I nodded, closed my eyes, and took a deep, shuddering breath.