Mira Jacob - The Sleepwalker's Guide to Dancing

They were doing a good job of it, Amina thought from the safety of her bedroom. While the cause of the fight was unknown to her, the accusations of selfishness, martyrdom, ineptitude, and snobbery were staples from her childhood, none too surprising, though all tripped the same old fears, resurrecting a years-old sadness that her parents, at their core, were absolutely wrong for each other. In the midst of everything, she’d forgotten about that. She called Dimple.

“They’re going at it.”

Downstairs, the yelling had switched abruptly into Malayalam. It rumbled up the stairs like an oncoming thunderstorm.

“Sounds like fun.”

“Pretty much. Anyway, how are you?”

“Good! Good. Really good, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I, um …” Amina heard the opening of the gallery door. “Hold on a sec.” A crinkly paper noise, and when Dimple next spoke, it was through chewing gum. “I’m engaged.”

“What?”

“Sajeev and I are getting married.”

“What?”

“We’re—”

“Since when?”

“Last week. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to, you know, interrupt.”

“Interrupt what? I’m not doing anything out here.”

“You’re dealing with your dad.”

“You’re getting married to Sajeev ?”

“Well, you don’t have to say it like that.”

“No, I just mean … was this a, uh. I mean, did you …” Amina swallowed, entirely unsure of what she was trying to ask. “Okay, so wow.”

“You sound freaked out.”

“No! I’m just a little surprised. You just started seeing each other, you know?”

“We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

“Yeah, but not like, known each other.”

“I know plenty,” Dimple said with a telling laugh.

“Right,” Amina said, falling silent until she realized that Dimple was waiting for more, that this was one of those moments they weren’t going to get back. She swallowed and threw her voice an entire octave higher. “Congratulations!”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“No, I’m not! I’m happy for you! I mean, surprised, obviously, but happy!” She was aware that talking in exclamation points was undermining her message but could not stop once she had started. “He seems like a great guy!”

“Well, he is,” Dimple said suspiciously. “And we have more in common than you think. He knows a lot about photography.”

“I know — that day at the Hilltop. He was talking about it nonstop, remember?”

Dimple’s voice changed abruptly, the giddiness returning. “Really?”

“Yes,” Amina said, relieved to finally find her footing in the conversation. “Remember? He had all that stuff to say about Charles White, and it was good, really. And then he knew about my stuff, which, you know—”

“Clearly means he’s well versed,” Dimple finished.

“Exactly.” Amina smiled. “So what happened? Did he do the whole knee thing?”

“Well, no, because we were in bed.”

“Please tell me you didn’t tell your parents that part.”

“I haven’t told them anything yet. I’m thinking of not telling them at all.”

“Oh, c’mon.”

“No, really. We were thinking of eloping the weekend after the show. You know, like, Vegas-style or city hall or something.”

“You can’t do that! What about the family?”

“Oh my God, two months back home and they’ve brainwashed you.”

“No! Well, maybe. I mean, why start things like that? You’ve got your whole lives to disappoint everyone. Weddings are important.”

“Says the woman who captures their most compromising moments.”

“Not fair. And you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dimple was quiet for a long moment, and in that moment Amina realized her parents had stopped yelling. She limped down the hall to Akhil’s room and looked down into the driveway. Both cars were still there.

“I feel like my parents won,” Dimple said.

“Won what?”

“That’s the funny part. I mean, what did they win, really? So I’m going to end up with a Suriani guy. Sajeev, of all people. So what. I just … I don’t want to deal with my mom gloating.”

“She won’t gloat.”

“Amina.”

“Okay, fine, but it’s not like you did it so she would gloat. That would be worse.”

“Do you really think I don’t know him well enough?”

“No, it’s not that. I guess I just didn’t see it coming,” Amina said carefully, knowing she wasn’t quite telling the truth. She paused, thinking about how sometimes a surprise was just the acknowledgment of something you had tried hard to ignore. Of course Dimple was going to marry Sajeev. Amina said, “I guess it makes sense, in a way.”

“I just keep thinking, you know, our parents did it. And they didn’t know each other. And Americans get divorced all the time for, like, no reason . Someone cheats. Someone spends too much money. Someone tells someone they aren’t the person they married, like that’s so fucking unusual. So if you need to just close your eyes and jump …”

“You might as well do it with an Indian.”

“Exactly.”

Amina limped over to her desk, where the items found in the garden were now in the active dust-collecting stage. She ran her finger along the edge of the trophy.

“I think I’m falling for Jamie Anderson,” she said.

“AMINA!” The bedroom door flew open with a loud smack.

“JESUS!” Amina screamed.

Thomas stood in the door frame, his forehead dotted with sweat from the exertion of fending off Kamala.

“What?” Dimple yelled. “What happened?”

He walked into the room, fists clutched around a dinner roll and a bag of ice.

Amina swallowed. “I’ve got to go.”

“What just happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. My dad’s just here.”

“Did you just say you were—”

“Later,” Amina said as her father glared at her feet.

“Okay, but call me back!”

It was not, in fact, a dinner roll, Amina saw as her father uncurled his fist. It was an Ace bandage. Thomas jerked his hand in the direction of the bed. “Sit.”

Amina limped over and sat. Her father pulled up a chair and raised her leg to rest her foot on his knee. His fingers went straight for the spot that hurt the most, pressing it. She gasped.

“How did this happen?” he growled.

“Accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“I was running in the dark.”

He placed one hand on her heel and the other on her toes, rotating her foot forward too far. She jerked it away.

“That hurts?”

“Yes.”

He pressed his fingers beneath her anklebone. She gritted her teeth and nodded.

“You’ve sprained it. I’m going to wrap it, and then you should keep it elevated and iced.”

“How long will it be sprained?”

“Probably a week or two.” He began to unroll the bandage over her foot, wrapping it around. “Why were you running in the dark?”

“I was robbing a bank.”

The corner of Thomas’s lip twitched, though he was still too wound up to actually crack a smile. Below them, Kamala banged pots and pans. Thomas wrapped the bandage quickly and evenly, putting a nice layer of pressure between Amina and the pain. When he was done he lifted the whole thing and gently helped her swing it onto the bed. He put two pillows under it and then laid the ice over it.

“You’ve taken Advil for the swelling?”

“No.”

He nodded and left, returning shortly with a glass of water, two pills, and two more pillows taken from Akhil’s bed, which he put behind her.

“How’s that?” He backed up, knocking his head against the canopy.