“Thanks, Rahul,” Vir said. “Bye, Sonal, Preet.”
He remembered their names too!
“That kid’s cute,” Vir said as we walked to the car. “So did I pass?”
“What do you mean?” I said, feigning ignorance.
“They were making sure I was worthy,” he said, “of you!”
“Nonsense!” I said, smiling.
It was a good thing he didn’t turn around to see the aunties giving me winks and thumbs-ups through the window.
“Hey, the driver’s seat is on the left!” I said. “Shouldn’t it be on the right in an Indian car?”
“It was for an American trade show,” Vir said. “I think.” He held the door to the passenger seat open for me, and I climbed in.
“That’s so cool,” I said. “I bet my dad would like to look at it!”
“I’d be happy to show it to him,” Vir said.
“What does your father do, Vir?” I asked as we pulled onto Route 9.
“He… um, he’s into farm equipment,” Vir said.
“Farm equipment?” I asked. What was that—tractors and harvesters and stuff? “In India?”
“Yeah,” Vir said. “The agricultural sector is huge. So, is this movie hall your local hangout or something?” Okay, I got it. He clearly didn’t want to talk about his dad. “You must have gone there all your life.”
“Yeah, I saw my first movie in it when I was… three,” I said. “I had a little booster chair that the movie hall provides for toddlers and an extra-long straw to drink my apple juice with. Vinnie was ten, and she made Mom take us. I don’t really remember it, but Vinnie does. I wish I could remember it, though.…”
“I have something for you,” Vir said. “It’s in the boot. Don’t let me forget to give it to you when I drop you home.”
By boot he meant the trunk, I assume. “What is it?” I asked.
“The easel,” Vir said. “I fixed it.”
He fixed it in a week—seriously? Was there anyone like him in the world?
“Thank you,” I said.
He took his eyes off the road for a second to look into mine. “You’re welcome,” he said.
The movie was awesome, and the ending was sweet. But I was glad of Vir’s shoulder and the wad of tissues I’d brought in my handbag because there were some really sad bits too.
“Thanks for that,” I said. “Hey, maybe next time we should see a Bollywood movie? I know a theater in Westborough that screens all the new releases. Not the one the moms were recommending, something else.”
“Maybe,” he said, but he sounded doubtful. “Some of them are great, but you need to pick carefully. Would you care for some candy floss?”
“Cotton candy?” I said. “Sure!”
I guess I could add Bollywood movies to the list of things Vir didn’t want to talk about.
When we pulled up to the house, Dad was outside walking Yogi. That was so an excuse to talk to Vir—he never takes the dog out after ten at night. May as well get it over with! OMG, did Dad have to wear his high-waisted dad jeans and those horrible shiny white sneakers?
“Dad, this is Vir,” I said.
“We met at the car show!” Dad said.
“Nice to see you again, sir,” Vir said.
“Nice car,” Dad said.
“Thanks,” Vir said. “I love your vintage Esprit too.”
“Not vintage, exactly,” Dad said. “It’s too old to be new and too young to be vintage. Want to take it for a drive?”
“Sure,” Vir said. And with that, they both vanished into the garage, which Dad had STILL not cleaned despite his promises. Way to go, Dad. Show Vir the messiest part of our house the first time he visits. I stomped into the house with the (also abandoned) dog. Ten minutes later I heard the vroom of the Lotus backing out.
It was another ten minutes before they were back, and though Dad parked the car and went into the house immediately, to his credit, it still felt like he was around.
“Thanks, Vir. I had a great time!” I took a page from Vir’s playbook and gave him a firm handshake.
“Me too,” he said, and gave me a rueful grin and a cheery wave before driving off.
Chapter Eighteen
Three weeks to the wedding and my checklist was looking excellent!
Vinnie and Manish had managed to get their license while they were in the state, and Vinnie had hired the bartenders, gone over the wine list, paid for an alcohol license from the town of Fellsway, and organized a bus to transport the out-of-state guests from the hotel to River Bend.
She got it all done online or by phone while getting through her first month of residency—my sister is a champion. And the RSVPs were piling up. There were a few people who hadn’t responded, but the majority had checked in.
Work was fine. I had my AP Studio Art and original artwork back and I scored a 5! I’d even added a few pieces to my portfolio—and I’d made progress on my personal essay for college apps (it’s never too early to start, as per Dad, Vinnie, and Vir).
Speaking of Vir… things were going really, really well! Dad and he hit it off, apparently. Why was I surprised? Vir was just the Nova-watching, technology-loving MIT geek type Dad would approve of. And he knew an astounding amount of stuff about cars. When I stressed about Dad working late and paying no attention to the wedding preparations, Vir defended him and went on about Dad’s start-up, and how close they were to getting Intel Capital in the bag as far as funding was concerned. It was a little weird how they had clicked.
“In fact, I might intern with them next summer,” Vir said. “If they haven’t crashed and burned by then.”
“That’s reassuring,” I said.
“I think they’ll be fine,” Vir said. “That’s my assessment. If the economy doesn’t tank and no competing technologies emerge, they’ll do all right.”
“He’s so tightfisted about the wedding,” I fretted.
“He doesn’t want to jeopardize your college fund—it took him a decade as a corporate drone to build it
