The feeling of sitting down in Omkar’s car and being enclosed inside it was ineffable. No longer having to keep it together in the face of a situation that could very probably have separated them, Aria started to cry. She could not believe any of what had happened or how close she had come to the very thing she had spent nearly a year trying to avoid.
Omkar pulled away from the curb and drove out of sight of the cop car before pulling back up and turning the engine off. Despite his multiple attempts to quiet her tears and find out what was happening, Aria kept weeping. Omkar noticed when he hugged her that her clothing smelled distinctly like smoke. He was forced to wait for her to offer an explanation. When she finally did, Omkar felt out of his depth. He knew he had lived a sheltered life and couldn’t understand the pressures she had been under. He tried to release her from the guilt of having called CPS.
He felt a ton of responsibility for her wellbeing. Aria had no place to go. And Omkar could not live with the idea of handing that responsibility back to her. While she talked, his mind raced for possible solutions. He settled on a temporary one. He would sneak back into the house and set up some blankets on the floor of the storeroom in the shop before sneaking Aria in for the night. He could set his alarm and leave with her before his father even got dressed in the morning. It would at least buy him a day to come up with another plan.
Both of them were almost bewildered when the plan worked. Their entry had solicited no stirring from upstairs. The blankets Omkar had found smelled like him. Aria breathed them in when she lay down in them.
Omkar sat down against the wall behind her, pulling her back against his chest. Aria apologized again for inconveniencing him. If she had known that he would end up having to pick her up anyway, she would have called him from Taylor’s phone. But Omkar did not feel inconvenienced. He felt good to finally carry the weight of her welfare. Though he did not yet know exactly what to do with it, it felt like there was suddenly more space for him in her life. The smell of smoke in her hair caused him to imagine what it would be like to take her camping and to roast marshmallows. Omkar stayed as long as he could without raising suspicion.
Aria would not normally have been able to sleep after the sequence of events that had taken place that day. She would have writhed, reliving the torture. But Omkar’s presence was laden with consolation. Being near him caused Aria to feel the strange juxtaposition of being completely overwhelmed and at the same time, calmed by the cottony refuge of Omkar’s being. Eventually, it was that refuge that coerced her into sleep.
When Omkar finally climbed back up the stairs, his anger toward the prejudice of his own culture climbed the stairs with him. Leaving her in the unfurnished starkness of the storeroom made Omkar feel like a fugitive in his own house. He wanted to keep her with him. He didn’t want to have to hide her or the way they felt about each other.
PART FOUR
CODA
CHAPTER 28
The way you date as an Indian in America can be summarized in two sentences. In the eyes of your parents, either you are too old and you should be married already. Or you are too young and you shouldn’t so much as look at another boy or girl until you are ready to get married.
Relationships were yet another thing that made Omkar resent his culture. He found himself straddling the divide between two cultures that couldn’t be more different if they tried. In American culture, dating could be casual. Parents let their children date young and didn’t seem to intervene when they did. In Indian culture, children were not allowed to date. Most Indian kids growing up in America were simply sent off to college socially stunted. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, therefore, that many of them failed to meet someone to marry on campus. Yet it always did seem to come as a surprise. When their son or daughter would turn 26 or 27, parents would panic and take matters into their own hands. There was nothing casual in Indian culture about forming a relationship with the opposite sex. The entire thing was a carefully orchestrated arrangement, which for the most part was conducted by parents. And marriage was considered to be the most important part of a person’s life.
Omkar’s parents had met on their wedding day. Their parents had selected them as a match for each other with the idea that it would be the best thing for both of them. Like the vast majority of marriages in India, theirs was an arranged marriage. It had been several days of pre- and post-wedding ceremonies and parties. Now they fully believed that the blessings they had sought from God when they bowed before the holy script had been granted. Theirs was a happy marriage. Time had seen them grow to love one another.
It was a fact that Jarminder reminded Omkar of daily. “Our marriages are much more successful than those of the Westerners, Omkar,” she would say. “Parents have lived longer, we know how the world really works. So we will make a better decision.”
It always made Omkar queasy when she said it. Not because he disagreed with her entirely. In fact, Omkar
