Sleepless in Dubai, page 17
“What of it?” She raised her brows as if daring me to offer even one argument in favor of ditching her relatives.
I patted the braid against Lilly’s head to signal that I was done and turned to Mummie. “Diwali is about family but, like, our immediate family. We saw relatives yesterday and probably will see them again before we leave. But why spend Diwali day in a mandir or at a house when we do that every year? Dubai has so much more. It’s not like Austin, where just the people in the community get into it. Here, the entire city is into it. It’s almost like India, and it would be cool to experience a place where everyone knows the holiday and everyone is into it and feel like we and the city aren’t separate. You got that growing up in India.”
I nodded toward Lilly and added, “We never got that. We’ve only ever been in a bubble celebrating our culture. Here, there’s no bubble. We’re not . . . othered. Not everyone here is the same, but we’re part of the whole.”
Mummie’s expression softened as she confessed, “We’re not spending the day in Abu Dhabi, beta.”
Lilly and I both blew out a breath. She slapped my hand behind our backs in a low five. Thank goodness.
“I’d love to,” Mummie went on, “but we didn’t spend all this money and come all this way not to experience Diwali in Dubai. I adore my cousins. I can’t believe how welcoming they are, but this will be an experience for us all. Diwali is family time, and we’re going to spend it together. None of this ‘we go here, and you go there.’ So, yes, we’ll experience the festivities, but we will also attend mandir.”
Lilly and I groaned, then snapped our mouths shut.
Mummie gave us a look of warning. “Mandir is part of Diwali. We won’t spend all day there or even too long, but we’ll go. It’s just around the corner. Besides, some of the family might come here today.”
“Can we at least go to the Palm or Al Seef and see fireworks?”
“The mandir should have fireworks,” Papa suggested.
Lilly responded, “Probably not. I read fireworks are limited and only certain places are allowed to use them. Makes sense, it’s so dry here.”
I added, “Yeah, and it’s nothing like fireworks over the water. Besides.” I tapped the camera around my neck. “I might never get a shot at photographs like these again.”
We thought all was good and handled when we met Yash and his parents in the hallway to get breakfast. But while we stood in line to get into the restaurant, the parents got to talking about mandir again.
OK, look, I wasn’t against attending mandir for worship during a major holiday. Going was a given. But c’mon!
Like a switch had been flicked on, Lilly, Yash, and I exchanged panicked glances. Yash mouthed, “WTF,” when his parents agreed to spending more than just “a little time” at mandir.
I wanted to cry.
Yash sidestepped to stand closer to me with a nod that said, “I got this.”
He cleared his throat to get their attention.
My parents were never going to deny him—he was practically the son they never had—but also they’d been doting on him more than ever since our fight. Yash shouldn’t have to rescue me every time, though. That wasn’t his job. He shouldn’t feel like he had to all the time, either, and I didn’t want to feel like I needed him to. Of course, he could’ve been stepping in for himself. He for sure didn’t want to spend the best part of the best day inside, and he probably knew his parents weren’t going to let him run around by himself on one of the busiest days of the year.
When our parents turned to us, when Yash opened his mouth to speak, I jumped in and asked, full of excitement and optimism, “What if Yash comes with me to see fireworks? Please, Papa? Then you can enjoy the mandir peacefully for as long as you want, and we’d at least spent most of the day together.”
“How about,” Mummie interjected, “we all dress in our Diwali best and go to mandir together, early evening, and do puja. Then you kids can escape into the shows?”
“Uh, re-really?” I stuttered, hoping but never expecting her to go for it. After all, she’d always hammered in that Diwali was family time. And with this being the last Diwali before college, it seemed extra special. So . . . what was her endgame here?
“Why don’t you come with us?” I found myself asking.
“We always do more religious things at mandir during this time. It feels important.”
Oh my god. But OK, that was cool. The fact that they’d even let us go was something else.
“Lilly, you coming with?” I asked her, knowing how much she loved fireworks and how much she loathed sitting still while our parents gabbed on forever with other people.
She bit her bottom lip and looked from me to Yash and back to me when he raised an eyebrow in questioning. There was no reason for her to hesitate. Sweets might’ve been her weakness, but fireworks were her kryptonite. She lived for them. Aside from the excitement and awe factor, she couldn’t just open the fridge when she wanted them like she could with sweets. So, what was the holdup?
“Lilly?” I nudged. Had her thoughts totally wandered off?
She let out a big sigh and smiled. “Nah, I’m good.”
Our mouths dropped open. Yash and I gawked at her. Was she feeling OK?
“What? Why not?” I asked while silently praying: Please, lord, don’t let Lilly’s refusal to go with us alter my parents’ decision to let us go. On the other hand, it might bode better for us if we couldn’t potentially lose my little sister.
“No. I wanna hang out where there’s sweets and food,” she replied. Sure, that made sense. Sort of. But there was probably going to be food carts galore out there tonight, and who could say no to that?
“Oh. OK . . . well, if you change your mind, let me know. There’s still lots of time left. You sure you don’t want to see fireworks?”
Lilly grinned, looking again from Yash then back to me. “I’m sure there’ll be great fireworks.”
I looked to Yash and shrugged. “Guess it’s just us?”
He scratched the back of his head, his cheeks flushed. “Yeah.”
Mmmkay . . . what was up with everyone?
And then it struck me. Wait. Wait one hot minute. Were my parents and Lilly essentially setting us up to go out alone?
It wasn’t as if Yash and I hadn’t spent enough time together on this trip, and we’d had our talk. We’d made bigger strides in the past few days than we had all summer.
But, whatever. I wasn’t going to question them and lose what could quite possibly be my last chance at capturing the perfect picture.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
After breakfast, we all went to Dubai Parks and rode all the rides. Then we went to Bollywood Parks at the end of the multi-themed amusement park. There was just something surreal about being in a theme park based entirely on Indian cinema. The rides and architecture were based on Bollywood movies and there was lots of Indian food. The music playing over the speakers were all hit Hindi songs.
Afterward, we sat in the grassy park area, near the water, and watched live Bollywood singers and dancers. The place was packed. So many people came to see performers dressed to the nines in sparkling, colorful kurtas and lehengas, complete with all the blingy jewelry.
Musicians played music.
Singers sang.
Dancers danced.
For a minute, I thought we’d disappeared into a Bollywood movie and were about to bust out in a choreographed dance.
No matter where we went or what we did that day, Lilly attached herself to my parents. The two of us were usually together; she liked my pace better and could do more rides and run faster to the next thing. But I found myself being pushed toward Yash more and more. And I didn’t mind it. Not one bit.
As Yash and I sat on the grass in our best jeans and T-shirts, our arms crushed against each other, his faint smell of body spray and deodorant, his hair flopping over his eyes, I lowered my gaze to my palms and smiled, not realizing at first that Yash was snapping my photo.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He smirked and played on his phone before showing me his screen. He’d posted one of those pictures to his social media, and yanked the phone away every time I tried to grab it.
“Yash! Delete that! You never take good pictures of me.”
He laughed. “This is a good picture!”
I groaned and went through my phone to see what picture he’d posted. I stilled. Well, dang. For once he had captured a decent shot. It was of me smiling down at my dark-stained mehndi with the crowds sprawled out on the grass behind me.
But the caption was the best part. Find yourself someone who looks at you the way she looks at mehndi.
I cracked up. “OK. That was pretty good.”
He took my hand, and a shockwave went through me. I froze as he turned my hand over and lightly ran a finger over the maroon mehndi designs. My breath hitched. How could a soft, fleeting touch on my palm make my entire body shake?
“Nice. It turned out well,” he commented.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
He cleared his throat and released my hand. I immediately busied myself by snapping shots on my camera. The dads were most likely live WhatsApping the entire concert to a large chat group of uncles. Lilly was glued to the concert, bobbing her shoulders to the upbeat music as she nibbled on food.
One song ended and segued beautifully into the next. Lilly’s eyes went wide, her mouth dropping as she slowly turned her head toward me. It was her favorite song from her favorite movie, and I’d picked up the end of the last song during the change to catch her reaction.
My camera was at the ready, focused on my little sister as surprise and excitement engulfed her entire expression.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
She squealed, her fists balled up and pumping. “Yes!”
Then she threw her arms out and yelled, “I love this song!”
We all laughed, even as Papa swerved his phone to record her. She didn’t even care enough to grunt at him or tell him to stop. She was on her knees and half dancing. And now the whole family was into it. Forget if we looked silly. There was nothing like an elaborate Bollywood musical number to bring an Indian family together.
* * *
After a long and glorious day at Bollywood Parks, we returned to the hotel exhausted. At least, I was. Since we had a sizable break in the early evening, I hopped into the shower, hoping to wake up and wash off all the theme park, seeing that Yash, Lilly, and I rode so many rides and spilled more than one drink and ice cream. I didn’t even care if everyone was in our room.
When I emerged, I was expecting everyone to still be talking away. Instead, I found Lilly sprawled out asleep, taking up the entire bed but somehow managing not to disturb the edge where our parents’ outfits lay.
Why was she on their bed? Because Yash had passed out in our bed, but he took up a very slim edge so as not to disrupt our clothes.
And where were the parents? They were probably at mandir helping set up because that was exactly the sort of thing they’d be doing.
The shower hadn’t woken me up. It had relaxed me, making me feel even more tired. I moved the clothes from my bed and draped them over the backs of two chairs, then walked back to the bed. Dude. Why was he in my bed? He had his own. He had an entire room!
Even if I moved the clothes off the other bed, Lilly was too much of a hog for me to slip in anywhere.
I stood over Yash, arms crossed. Did mind-bending work? Did we still have our Jean Grey and Professor X telepathic mutant powers? No. After the longest two minutes of my life in which I willed him to wake up and move, I caved and crashed beside him.
The bed was big enough for two, maybe even three, people. And we’d fallen asleep next to each other before. It wasn’t that big a deal.
The room was icy-cold because Lilly and my parents were apparently part yeti. I shivered, hurrying to get underneath the blanket and shimmying into a curled position as quickly as possible, my eyelids already drifting closed.
As I slept, I must’ve followed the heat source because I was practically face-planting into Yash’s armpit. He stirred awake, and I froze.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, and went to move away. “No, wait. You’re the one in my bed. Why can’t you go to your room?”
“Bro. I’m tired. Just sleep,” he muttered.
“Don’t ‘bro’ me.”
He didn’t move.
“Fine. If you’re not getting out of my bed.” I pulled my knees to my chest between us and slid my hands underneath his shirt.
He yelped. “God. Are you made of ice?”
“I’m coldhearted, remember?”
He pried open one eye and frowned before shifting to drape an arm around me, pulling me into a hug.
My heart nearly exploded. My body was reacting so chaotically, my pulse raging. WTF? My like like of Yash was turning into an all-out crush, and I might actually implode if I didn’t tell someone. But definitely not Yash.
He mumbled, “You’re not always coldhearted, Nikki. I mean, you were since the fight, so like, damn, defrost already, woman.”
I pressed my icy hands into his back.
He hissed.
“Shut up and go back to sleep, bed-thief.”
“I’m sure there are mittens somewhere. Or we can wrap your ice talons in towels.” He quietly laughed, his body rumbling against mine. My stomach did all sorts of flips as I melted against him. Part of my brain tried to stay awake to question reality but the next thing I knew, we were both passed out.
* * *
Thank the lord that Lilly woke up first, because if our parents saw us entangled in limbs and sheets in a bed, they might finally realize that maybe Yash and I were getting closer than they’d intended us to.
Lilly was perched on a chair dead ahead, watching us.
I stirred awake, muttering, “Creeper.”
I wiped the drool from my mouth before Yash awoke. We sat up at the same time. He scratched his head, looking away. I froze.
Lilly clucked her tongue. “Y’all dating, or what?”
“What?” I guffawed, and Yash had never jumped to his feet so fast.
“People who are dating, or married, sleep together.”
“Oh my god. Not exactly true but also, that’s not what ‘sleep together’ means, so stop saying that.”
Yash was at the front door, his face beet red, putting his shoes on as I scurried out of bed asking, “What time is it? Where are our parents? I can’t believe we fell asleep on Diwali. We probably missed so much stuff.”
“Papa messaged that they’ll be back soon, and to start getting ready,” Lilly said as I checked our family group chat, and sure enough, they had gone to mandir to help.
Next to the WhatsApp was a notification from social. Probably Tamara checking in about the trip or homework or whatever gossip I was missing. I’d have to check that later.
“I’ll see you guys in a bit,” Yash announced on his way out the door.
A sly smile spread across Lilly’s face when Yash was gone. “Just admit you guys are into each other.”
“What! We just fell asleep, and why do you sleep across the entire bed like that? I didn’t have a choice. Why was he in here, anyway?”
“He fell asleep while the parents were talking, and then I pretended to fall asleep to keep from having to go with them. And then I actually fell asleep.” She grinned sheepishly.
The things we did to not help out.
“We gotta get ready!” I exclaimed, and went to the bathroom to put on my makeup before everyone came back and crowded the mirror.
I managed to apply just the right amount without foundation streaks or lopsided eyeliner or eye shadow dusting beneath my eyes or specs of mascara all over the place. I took a few selfies before I started on my hair and opened social to send Tamara pics.
Except, when I checked my notifications, they weren’t from her. They were from Jalebi_Writer.
My heart skipped a beat. Wow! He was messaging me first!
Jalebi_Writer: Hey! I just wanted to say HAPPY DIWALI to you and your family!
I grinned extra hard when I replied.
Nikki: Hi! Happy Diwali to you and your family, too!
Tamara had also messaged, wishing us a fun holiday and hoping things were working out with Yash . . . seeing that he’d actually posted a pic of me on social!
Tamara: So, uh, getting close, huh?
I bit my lip and tapped out of the message. Just thinking of Yash had my stomach tied into knots, but in a really pleasant way. Like a roller coaster. Sorta scary but definitely thrilling. And darn Tamara and her acuteness. All she had to do was see one picture and she just somehow knew.
Well, I was dying to tell someone, and she was the safest bet. With the infuriating and uncontrollable need to tell someone, anyone, I got onto social to message Tamara really quick.
Nikki: OMG! Help! I think I’m crushing on Yash!!!
Ah! That felt good! Even though Tamara wouldn’t check her messages until later.
I then glossed over the group family chat in WhatsApp to make sure there wasn’t anything important happening, before hopping back onto social to realize the worst thing had happened.
I almost screamed.
I had not messaged Tamara, but I had, in fact, messaged . . . Jalebi_Writer.
Oh my lord. I for sure could never chat with him after that. I shook my head, brushing off the humiliation. Ugh. At least he was offline. I hit the “delete message” option, but wasn’t sure if that removed the message from his end, too.
Anyway, no time! I hurried to fix my hair and rushed out of the bathroom as my parents came in.
“I have to go!” Mummie said, practically pushing me out of the way.
Lilly was already dressed. I fixed her hair for her. “Two braids, please,” she said, handing me ribbons.
My parents didn’t take long to get ready, as Papa was just changing clothes and Mummie wasn’t a makeup person and preferred her hair to stay in its perpetual, long braid that reached her waist.
Mummie and I slipped on costume jewelry and lots of bangles to match our outfits in alternating bands of color and gold. Lilly didn’t like all that, so she waited on the bed, where she was attached to her tablet.
