Aria was surprised by his apology. “Are you kidding me?” she said. “Omkar, you should never be ashamed of your culture. It is so cool. You guys are like exotic warriors or something. You guys have been telling me about your culture all night and it’s been making me think and I don’t think we even have a culture. I mean, unless you call backyard barbecues and football games a culture.”
Omkar laughed and said, “That’s the thing: you never think you have a culture until you leave the place where your culture is the only culture. If I took you to India, you would all of a sudden know what American culture is. It’s like a fish that spends his life swimming in water. The fish doesn’t know how to tell you about water until he is suddenly in the air.”
Omkar’s culture was like an exotic spice that ran through his veins. Aria could smell that spice in every word he spoke and in everything he did. She found it erotic. She felt the stoic power in the line of men and the sensual mysticism in the line of women that had lent their lineage to him. Unlike her, his belonging was never questioned. He could resist that belonging, he could try to talk and act like something else, but it was something he could not wash himself clean of. The culture he came from was like a flavor that permeated the way he felt to her. It was so much a part of who he was and perhaps even part of what she loved so much about him.
“Can you drive me back to the lot tonight?” Aria asked.
Omkar shot a confused and dejected look down toward her. “Why do you want to go there?”
Aria was equally confused. “Because you know I don’t have anywhere else to stay,” she responded. To her, it was obvious that the reconciliation between Omkar and his parents would mean they wouldn’t be spending the night at the hotel again. And given their culture, it was obvious that she couldn’t stay with him there.
“No, you don’t understand. It’s OK; Mama’s been doing something to fix things,” Omkar said and yelled for his mother. Jarminder shouted something back up the stairs in Punjabi. “Just a minute and I promise I’ll show you.” Omkar said, leaning against the counter with a satisfied look on his face.
Jarminder arrived at the door and motioned for Omkar and Aria to follow her back downstairs. She opened the door to the storeroom feeling a mix of anxiety and pride.
It was no longer the barren cement room that Aria remembered. The floor had been covered with mismatched carpets. A twin mattress had been laid on the floor and a bed had carefully been made with lavender-colored sheets and pillows. The cement foundation ridge that ran through the room now acted as a mantle for an ornate statue of Ganesh, with its head of a white elephant and body of a human with four arms. Every wall had been covered with unfolded saris. Their colorful and opalescent silk lifted and billowed when the door opened. A frail stream of smoke, carrying the scent from a stick of sandalwood incense, rose from a little bronze incense burner near the door.
Aria could not believe what she was seeing. “You can stay here. My mother made it up for you,” Omkar said.
“Are you kidding me?” Aria asked.
Jarminder thought the question implied that Aria had been insulted that they would put her in a storeroom and so she sought to justify herself. “I’m sorry, it’s just that we don’t have any more rooms upstairs.”
“No … No … It’s lovely,” Aria said, realizing that Jarminder had misinterpreted her. Ignoring the air of formality that she’d felt until then between herself and Jarminder, as well as the way Jarminder went rigid when she did it, Aria rushed in to hug her. “Are you totally sure?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, we’re sure,” Jarminder said, wobbling her head back and forth instead of up and down. “The sheets are new. If they are stiff, I can just wash them,” she said.
Aria was quiet in disbelief. “I’m going to stay down here with her to talk for a bit, Mama,” Omkar said, indicating his readiness for her to go back upstairs.
“OK, you can use the bathroom upstairs, but no hankypanky,” Jarminder said, pointing her index finger at Omkar.
Aria sat on the end of the bed, listening to the stairs creak as Jarminder climbed them. Omkar sat down next to her. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said again, looking to Omkar for an explanation about the strange turn of events.
“My parents are good people, even though they don’t exactly act like it sometimes,” Omkar said. “They could never feel good knowing that you don’t have somewhere to stay. Plus I told them that I wanted to move out and get a place with you and they sort of freaked out. Indian parents can’t stand the idea of not living with their kids.” He giggled.
“Are you totally sure? I don’t want it to be weird for me to be here or whatever,” Aria asked again.
“Yes, my God, it’s totally fine, I promise,” Omkar said, although he knew he was failing to completely convince her.
He stayed downstairs with her until Neeraj yelled down to them, “Omkar, it’s time to go to sleep now, you have school in the morning.” It was his way of making sure his son wasn’t being irresponsible in more ways than one.
Omkar kissed Aria on the cheek and said, “Sleep well tonight. I’ll be thinking of you all night just up there.” He pointed at a corner of the ceiling before running up the stairs.
Aria waited until she could hear no more sounds in the house before tiptoeing upstairs, with all of the clothes she had in her backpack, and sneaking into the bathroom. Turning the water
