I felt my empty ring finger with my thumb and then clenched my fist. I had taken the ring off in the plane before it landed in Hyderabad. I had hidden Nick from the start. Maybe I had known even before I left that he would continue to be my dirty secret.

I picked up my purse, which was lying next to the shoe rack on the veranda, and leaned over to find the slippers I had thrown from my feet a while ago. I slipped out of the house without telling anyone to look for a telephone booth. I found one a street away from the goli soda shop. I dialed Nick’s cell phone number and he picked up the phone almost before the first ring ended.

“Hi,” I said, and I could hear his relief even before he said anything.

“How are you? Where are you?”

“At my grandma’s house,” I said.

“How’re you holding up?” Nick asked.

“Okay.”

“You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to inject some false joy into my sagging voice. “It’s just the whole… the boy they want me to see… It’s just tiring.”

“You’re not going to go through that bride-seeing ceremony… are you?” Nick asked softly.

I paused for a microsecond before lying confidently. “Of course not.”

“Are you sure? I mean, do you want to? I… This is hard, this is very hard. I am… Are you having doubts?” he asked, his frustration hitting me squarely on my conscience.

“Doubts about us?” I asked, swallowing hard. “Of course not, Nick. How could you even think that?”

“Well, it makes me wonder. You’re so reluctant to tell them about us. I’m not a serial killer or rapist. I’m a pretty decent catch… Don’t you think? My mother thinks so,” Nick said, laughing a little at the end.

“Oh, you’re better than decent. You’re the best catch this side of the Mississippi,” I said, joining him in trying to lighten the air, letting the doubts slip away.

“I wish I’d come with you. I wish I was there with you now,” he said suddenly in exasperation.

I wished he had, too. It would’ve made everything twice as difficult but at least I wouldn’t have been alone and my parents would never have tried to set me up with some friend’s, friend’s son.

“I want to tell them about you. I will tell them about you, today, soon, now,” I said, lying again. I had never lied to Nick before, this was akin to cheating on him but I couldn’t do anything about it. I was caught up in a tornado and I had left Kansas a long time ago.

“I’ll tell them tomorrow,” I lied yet again. I had no intentions of telling them about Nick anymore. I couldn’t. I would just have to kill myself on the way back home to Nick so that no one would be the wiser about my deception.

“Tell them… don’t tell them; just don’t stress too much. You’re on vacation, you should enjoy yourself,” he said and I wondered if he knew I was lying.

“I will tell them. I love you, Nick,” I said almost desperately.

“And I you.”

“I’ve got to go back now. I’ll call you again. Send me email… lots of email. I like to read.”

He said he loved me again before I hung up. A gloom settled upon me. I didn’t have the raw guts to tell my family about Nick. It was not to protect them from pain and hurt, it was to protect myself. I was afraid that if I told them about Nick, they wouldn’t love me anymore. I was afraid that if I didn’t tell them and went back, Nick wouldn’t love me anymore. It was not a fair bargain. I could keep either Nick or my family.

I cried all the way back to Thatha’s house, feverishly wiping my tears with both my hands.

Dinner was boisterous as Thatha talked about how we could have a double marriage. “What do you say, Priya, you and my Sowmya getting married in the same mandap?” he asked, slapping a hand on his thigh.

I scooped out some mango pappu from a steel bowl onto my plate and mixed it in with rice.

“Nnayi?” Sowmya held up a small steel container with clarified butter and I shook my head. I should never have come to India -I was convinced of that. Now I had more problems than I could solve.

“Priya? ” Thatha questioned. “What, Amma, you don’t want a double wedding? ”

“Maybe we should just have one wedding in one mandap,” Ma said as if it was all a done deal and she didn’t want Thatha to get the wrong idea. When her daughter would marry, it would be in her own mandap; Sowmya could get her own.

“Let’s not count the chickens before they hatch,” Lata said and for once I was thankful. “Anand, pass me the rasam.”

Anand and Neelima were sitting next to each other and they had been quiet ever since dinner began. He looked up at Lata and then at the rasam and took a deep breath.

“Lata, did you say Neelima would have a miscarriage when she told you about her pregnancy?” he asked, a small quiver in his voice betraying the straight face he was trying to wear.

Silence fell so soundly that the echo of voices past crashed against the steel glasses standing on wobbly feet on the Formica table. Anand’s fearless voice clamored to rise above his usual calm, comfortable, fearful, and almost silent voice. He was not one for confrontations, that was why he told the family about Neelima after they had married.

“What?” Lata asked, her hand covered with mango pappu lying listlessly on her plate.

Anand was silent for a minute. I could see his Adam’s apple bob in and out-his nervousness had tentacles that reached out to everyone in the room.

“Anand, we don’t need a fuss now. Lata didn’t say anything,” Ammamma warned, not wanting to witness a fight.

“There is no fuss,” Anand said and stood up as if towering over everyone at the table would make it easier for him.

Nanna, who was sitting next to me, lifted his eyebrows in query. I shook my head. I knew what Anand was about to say, though I wondered if he had the courage to go through with it.

“Ever since Neelima and I got married, you all have been treating her really badly,” he began.

“Badly?” Thatha demanded, his voice thunderous. “What nonsense! You are imagining things.”

“Not nonsense, Nanna,” Anand said, his voice for once confident as it measured up against his indomitable father. “Neelima is my wife, she deserves respect. If as a family you all have decided to ill-treat her-”

“No one is ill-treating her, Anand,” Lata interrupted him. “I was simply telling her to be careful. The first trimester is always a delicate one. I don’t know why she misunderstood what I was saying.”

Neelima started crying softly. It was partly the tension in the room and partly because her hormones were raging. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

“No, I am sorry,” Anand said, sitting down to hold her hand. Such display of emotion between couples was not commonplace in our family and again I felt envy raise its head inside me. They loved each other, they were married, they were going to have a child; I was in love with a man who had the wrong skin color and nationality, I was living in sin with him and I had just lied to him.

“I keep sending her here”-Anand looked at Thatha when he spoke-“so that you will accept her. You will get to know her, see what a wonderful person she is and love her, treat her like a member of the family. But… if you don’t want to do that, she won’t come here… I won’t come here… and neither will our child.”

The line had been drawn. Anand had just crossed over and become a man. I couldn’t have been prouder.

Ammamma was about to say something but stopped when Thatha raised his hand.

“I agree, she is a daughter-in-law of this house and as such she deserves respect,” Thatha said somberly. “But it will take time before we love her. She will never be our choice for your wife, Anand. What is done is done; I can’t change the past or our past behavior. But from now on we will treat her like a member of the family.”

Ammamma looked away and Lata made a small clicking sound. My mother pursed her lips and then shrugged.