Priya in Heels (Entangled Embrace) (4 page)

“You wouldn’t be interested,” I replied.

“Try me.”

“You wouldn’t understand something this complicated.” With the last ace up, the rest of the cards unfolded.

“So, Pree, what do you do other than doctor stuff and the gym?”

“That’s all she does,” Vicki answered.

She was correct.

“Did you grow up here?”

“This isn’t my date,” I snapped.

Vicki gawked at me, horrified by my behavior. Honestly, I was, too.

“I guess I should leave. I’m obviously not wanted.” Tyler walked to the door.

Vicki followed and muttered apologies. When he left, she stomped over to the table and glared at me. “What was that?”

“He’s a stalker. I hope you didn’t tell him too much…oh wait, you did! You told him your entire life story and all you know about him is his music. Hopefully, you didn’t reveal anything about me.”

“All he asked about was you. He likes you.”

“So, he knows our schedules and the best time to kill me?”

“Why do you think he’s a bad guy? Because he was your patient, playing at a bar where we had dinner, and lives in the same building?”

“Revelations from the same night, remember.”

“Explain how that can be anything more than a coincidence? He can’t choose who sees him in the ER. His band had to book the bar months in advance. And according to the superintendent, because, yes, I asked, he just moved in a couple of weeks ago. You know how long the waiting list is for this place.”

“Well, he could’ve seen me around here, figured out where I worked and demanded to see only me in the ER, and paid someone off to play that night at the bar.” Even though he told me he was going to play at The Harmon’s before the girls had called.

“Right…because you’re
that
stalk-worthy.”

I groaned.

“You know I’m right. You better apologize to him. Having friends in the building is a necessity, especially if you’re going to live here for the remainder of your residency. Having strong male friends is a plus, in case anything ever happens, God forbid.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Vicki was right, but I was stubborn. “Okay, fine. The next time we run into one another, I guess I can be nice.”

“Is that the best you can do?”

“I’m not going to knock on his door and apologize right now.”

She crossed her arms and tapped a foot.

“Are you going to leave me alone?”

“Let’s just say, if you don’t go over there, I’m calling your mother and telling her how thrilled you are to meet the dentist from Dallas.”

And with those threatening words, I jumped to my feet and walked out into the hallway. I thrummed on Tyler’s door, hoping he didn’t have super sensitive hearing. Except Vicki watched from our door and she caught me trying to wiggle out of it.

I knocked on the door. It swung open to reveal an immaculate apartment, leather furniture, and one annoyed man.

“What?” he asked curtly. Damn, was that how I’d treated him?

I frowned and forced out the words. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For being mean. That isn’t me.”

“Then why were you so mean?”

“You showed up in three different places in one night, two of which are intimate for me. I find that suspicious.”

He rested a hand on the doorframe above his head and I tried not to ogle the massive biceps he set on display. “Are we starting off fresh?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He held out a hand. “My name’s Tyler O’Connor.”

I hesitated. “I’m Priyanka.”

“Nice to meet you, Pree.”

I scowled. “Nice to meet you, too,
Ty
.”

He flinched. “I—” He stopped.

I raised a brow. “You what? You don’t like that?”

“It’s fine,” he said.

I grinned.

“Now there’s a beautiful smile. So, can I get your number?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. You said if we’d met a different way, you would go out with me.”

“You’re twisting my words.”

He pulled out his cell phone. “And it’s…”

I sighed, but gave it to him.

He pressed a few buttons and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“That was fast.”

“I had it preprogrammed. I knew I’d get your number by the end of the weekend.”

Cocky.

“You should come over sometime, payback for dinner tonight.”

“Don’t you mean Vicki should come over sometime? She’s the one you had dinner with.”

“Vicki can come, too.”

“I’ll let her know. Good night,
Ty
.”

Chapter Six

Priya

Oh my Gujuness
. How could a vagina get that big, and how could a nine-pound baby squeeze out of it? My mind naturally considered my own vagina, untouched and intact. How barbaric it would be to push a baby out of that.

Of course, I’d seen worse, much worse, over the course of med school. This squirming, screaming woman in front of us didn’t have a venereal disease, throbbing abscesses, or the stench associated with the dead, but still.

After the patient managed to push out a healthy baby, Dr. Shaya called me down with his finger.

“Name three signs that the placenta has detached,” he said.

“A gush of blood, lengthening of the cord, and difference in the belly from uterine contraction.”

“Correct. You or the nurse would give fundal massage to help the placenta come out.” He gently pulled on the cord as he massaged the patient’s belly with his fist to demonstrate.

The placenta plopped out.

“To suture, you find the apex and close from top to bottom, from inner part out. So, this repair is a second-degree midline. Over here, we have a small laceration that doesn’t require sutures. My dear,” he said to the patient, “an ice pack will be your best friend for the next couple of days and a squirt bottle when you use the restroom. No wiping this area.”

We congratulated the patient and family and left the room to check on other patients, making today just another long day amid a blur of long days.

I was fortunate enough to go through four more triages and assist in three other deliveries and a C-section before calling it quits for the day. I had a quota to fill on each rotation, and labor and delivery was no different.

“The best stuff happens after six,” the tech said.

“Does it?”

“When everyone gets off work or after dinner, we get a rush of patients.”

I eyed the clock. “I have to be here tomorrow morning at seven and go to clinic at three. Staying after six is late. These other two are first-timers. They might take all night. Hopefully tomorrow. See you then.”

“Have a good night, Dr. Patel.”

“Good night!”

I headed out the door after typing patient notes and finishing up personal notes for clinic. Some of the other residents texted about going out to dinner, but I was too tired. L&D wasn’t as bad as ED, but it was still exhausting.

On the way home, the thought of a nice bubble bath with candles and music promised an invigorating yet relaxing evening—few and far between. I picked up dinner, nearly swallowed the meal whole, and drew a bath. My clothes came off, and I slipped into warm, lavender-scented water. The day faded away.

Adele played in the background.

My sore feet and back unwound. Whoever thought doctors had it easy were morons. So much studying and late nights, and so much practice and work…no wonder doctors burned out or fell apart.

Vicki was in her bedroom by the time I came out. I rechecked the locks and windows, turned off the hallway light, and flopped onto bed in raggedy sweats. Mental note: shopping required.

I checked my cell phone, disappointed that Ty hadn’t texted or called. Maybe he wasn’t a stalker…or he was more cunning than I expected.

…

As soon as my workweek ended, I drove to Austin, but I wasn’t in a hurry. I wasn’t particularly anxious to meet another suitor, but I was excited to see my parents and the look on Mummie’s face when she saw her surprise from India. Mummie loved peacock feathers. I had ordered fifty and they’d arrived at my parents’ house that morning. I arranged them into an elegant fan in the tall vase by the front door. It added exotic class to the foyer.

Mummie clapped her hands together. “Oh! So lovely!” She touched the silky, brilliant-colored tips. She returned to the kitchen and I followed.

I slid my cell phone into my pocket and sat on the bar stool.

“Are you expecting a call?” Mummie asked.

Cocky Tyler O’Connor had been all up in my privacy and had made me give him my number, yet he still hadn’t called, more than a week later. Maybe he wasn’t interested. Maybe he’d done it on a bet or as a joke, or just to see if he could work his magic on me. It shouldn’t have mattered, especially when I was about to meet the dentist from Dallas who, if Mummie had her way, would become my intended.

Mummie had cooked all of her specialties for today’s meeting/dinner, and those specialties just happened to be my favorites. There was
dhal
, a lentil-based soup for
idli
(steamed rice puree patties).
Bhaat
(rice) steamed in one pot and
shaak
(curried vegetables) simmered in another. Nothing like having rice patties with a side of rice for dinner.

Mummie always remembered my favorite foods, even from when we had visited India when I was little. She pulled out a grocery bag from the fridge. “Look what I found at the Indian store.”

My eyes widened with delight. Imported custard fruit.

“You loved this in India, remember?” Mummie cut open the round, lumpy, green orb.

“Thank you!” One bite and I was in heaven.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked. “Thinking about Manuk?”

I spat out one black seed after another. “No. I was just remembering when you worked at the hotel behind the apartments when I was little.”

“Yeah? What do you remember?”

“During the summer, every day you’d call and tell me to meet you at the fence and you’d give me food or Dr Pepper.”

“I think that is why you love Dr Pepper so much, huh?” Mummie laughed. She merrily glided back and forth from counter to counter, cooking, preparing, tasting, cleaning. I loved how content she was. Her happiness made my heart swell with joy.

“Can I help?” I asked.

“No! You get ready. You can’t look like that for your first meeting.”

“What’s wrong with jeans and a blouse? Are you sure everyone is dressing up? Is he wearing a suit or
kurta pajama
?”

“Yes.”

Soon thereafter, Papa arrived with a traditional box of sweets. We were going to kill them with overeating!

I jogged past Papa to get to the stairs. He smiled at me. Papa was like a lot of old-school Indian dads. He didn’t smile much and his tone appeared harsh. Non-Indian friends from high school had always thought he was angry or yelling at me, but really, that was just how he spoke. Papa was very loving, and to see such a handsome smile on his face made me happy. His dimples deepened in his cheeks, and wrinkles creased around his eyes.

Warmth filled my chest. Papa wore the same smile he had worn on the most important days of my life. In pictures, he had that smile when he’d held me after birth. On my high school graduation day. When I had been accepted into UT and again for med school, and when I’d graduated and started residency. It made
me
happy to see my parents happy.

If marrying Manuk made my parents this joyful, then I’d happily forget Ty.

I changed into a plain white skirt and a snug embroidered pink bodice that exposed my toned midriff. I wrapped the matching embroidered pink and yellow sari around my waist once, tucking the upper edges into the skirt. I pleated the front, tucked the thick wad into the skirt, and went around my waist once more before throwing the train over one shoulder to cover my midriff in Gujarati style.

Beads,
zari
, and sequins made the sari heavy. When all the small, shiny surfaces caught the light, the sari glimmered. Mummie had excellent, not to mention expensive, taste. I applied makeup and straightened my hair, only because I hadn’t mastered how to do anything else with it.

Pink and gold bangles and a choker and earring set had been laid out on the dresser.
All decked out and looking like a Bollywood star, if I say so myself
. I returned to the kitchen.

“So beautiful, my daughter.” Mummie smiled.

“You get ready. I’ll watch the food.”

“Everything is done.” Mummie went upstairs and returned in record time.
She
didn’t take forever putting on a sari. Then again, she didn’t wear makeup and always wore her long hair in a braid.

The doorbell rang.

“Manuk and his parents are here!” Papa announced from the front door.

My heart raced as if I were about to walk down death row, though I chose to believe the adrenaline and nausea were unbridled excitement.

My parents greeted Manuk and his parents while my legs froze on the spot. I hoped the anxiety and nausea were gone from my expression before everyone appeared from around the hallway corner and entered the living room.

Papa grinned at me first. Mummie cocked her head to the side, an indication for me to go and greet my future family.

By the way Manuk’s mother offered a tight smile and his father’s unreadable face, I felt as if they sized me up with a dose of condescension.

Then Manuk walked in. He was tall and trim with broad shoulders beneath a green
kurta
. His short, black hair was combed forward with a bit of a spike in the front, something I didn’t expect from an Indian or a doctor. His light brown eyes gleamed and his smile was charming—suitable for parents, of course. His eyes didn’t leave mine until Mummie took my hand and pulled me forward. My legs remembered how to walk.

“Hello,” I managed to say, still in shock.

“Priyanka, how are you?” my potential mother-in-law, Madhu, said.

“Good. How are you? I hope your drive went well.”

“Yes, very smooth,” my potential father-in-law, Deepak, replied.

“Such lovely hair,” Madhu commented as she ran her hand over my head the way older people felt entitled to do. “And so skinny.”

Was that a compliment or a complaint?

Deepak handed me a box of sweets covered in a gold wrapper. The exchange of sweets made this so formal.

“Thank you.”

Madhu gave me a small, gold box. I looked at Mummie for verification before accepting. She nodded once with approval.

“Thank you,” I said. “You didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense. Manuk picked it out for you.”

He smiled from the corner of the room.

I opened the box and gasped. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“Go ahead, place it on her.”

Manuk took the gold bracelet from the box and clipped it over my wrist. Beautiful twenty-four carat gold from India had a brilliant yellow sheen like no other gold in the world—pure, pliable, and elegant.

Papa invited everyone to sit. I hesitated and whispered to Mummie, “I’ll make
cha
.”

“You sit next to Manuk.” She didn’t allow arguing. The conversation started when I sat down. We talked about residency, Manuk’s practice, and how two doctors marrying seemed perfect. We skimmed over engagement talk and the location of where we’d live afterward: Dallas, by the way.

Madhu helped Mummie bring in bowls of
nastho
and the
cha
in teacups on saucers, even though we would eat within the hour.

The parental generation was at ease with one another. They were old friends from India and had kept in touch all these years, although they were not as close anymore. Obviously, as I had never spent much time around Manuk. I’d met him years ago, but since he’d been older by a few years and I’d still been in high school, we hadn’t paid much attention to each other.

“Do you like the bracelet?” he asked, now that our parents were involved in their own conversation.

“It’s beautiful. You really shouldn’t have.”

“You keep saying that, but this is a special occasion.”

“Would you have bought this for every girl you met with marriage in mind?”

“You’re the first, and I don’t anticipate being turned down.”

“Confident?”

“Pretty much, unless there’s some serious character flaw in me that repulses you.”

“And you’re so sure you like me?”

“I liked you way before I asked your parents about you.”

Oh, wow.

We moved on to the meal. They were impressed with Mummie’s cooking, but that wasn’t a shocker. I remained quiet throughout most of dinner, mulled around thoughts and digested the discussions about our lives, a potential marriage, and recent events in India.

Eventually, Manuk drew me into a conversation about residency and Houston. He knew what I was going through. His residency experience hadn’t been so long ago.

“Long hours are killing me. I’m surprised my health is still good,” I admitted.

“My sympathies.”

I didn’t expect that. Impressive. Most Indians would’ve said,
It’s worth it. You have to work hard for anything worth having.
Some people might not have commented at all, expecting that I should work hard at a prestigious career.

I swirled around the water in my glass.

“Shy? I don’t remember you being so quiet,” he said.

“It’s just surreal, hasn’t settled in yet.”

“Life changes. I hope this is a good meeting for you.”

The end of the night couldn’t come fast enough. I exhaled and released the tension once the door closed.

“That was great!” Papa exclaimed. “What do you think? He’s a good boy, huh?”

“He’s very nice,” I admitted.

“He knows how to talk to people,” Mummie added. “He can talk to anyone, and so smart. I think you two are a good match. What else do you think?”

“You want me to make a decision on whether I want to marry him after one meeting?”

“Why not? What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing yet. We have to have a connection, too.”

“What connection? You were talking to each other. He’s easy to get along with.”

I groaned. “I’m going to change.”

In my old bedroom, I slipped into sweats and folded the sari for another occasion. I rapped on Mummie’s door.

“Come in!” she called.

Papa lay in bed and watched the news. He had a weird habit of sleeping in slacks and a button-up shirt. In fact, unless he went to
mandir
or mowed the lawn, he always wore slacks and a button-up shirt.

Mummie sat next to him, propped up against the headboard in a black nightgown. She patted the mattress and, like a little kid, I jumped onto the bed. Mummie stretched her legs out as I placed them on my lap and massaged her feet.