Wilted Petals

Chapter 8: Borderline Cavities

I love movies. I used to watch them all the time before I devoted my life to medical school and not dying there. Back when Manish was still around, we used to watch any movie we could get our hands on.

The reactions were mixed. Sometimes it would be good, like me holding Manish as he bawled his eyes out at the ending of October.

Seriously, the amount of water used to make those tears could've irrigated a small California town.

Other times, the reactions weren't as pleasant, as I think back to the time Manish had to turn off Main Prem Ki Diwani Hoon after 30 minutes. We watched it just for shits and giggles anyways, but I was cursing so much at the characters that Manish thought it would be better to do something else.

    Thankfully, Anwar, his brother Salim, and Jen have better ideas of what I like. After all, Jen's been stuck with me for over half my life at this point. She knows what I like and what will cause me to punch a wall. And I'm grateful for that, because nobody wants to deal with all the reconstruction fees after I'm done with a bad movie.

Movie days or nights at Jen and Anwar's place reminds my mom of her young adult days. Way back yee haw in Delhi, Anwar's dad and my maternal uncle were the best of friends, and they'd go out for a movie and food every first Friday of the month when they both started earning their own salary.

For my mom, it's like seeing her young adult years play out right here in her childrens' lives, and it's something I personally am grateful for. And I'm even more fortunate that I get to do it with my best friend of over a decade and a half, as well as her fiance, whom I don't consider any less than another brother. Plus, he's a million times less annoying than my own brother.

    With one hand in my pocket and another clutching the string of my crossbody bag, I half jog half walk my way over to Anwar and Jen's place. Excitement is buzzing inside of me like a hive of bees. What better way is there for me to spend my day off than to chill at my best friends' house?

After I make my way to the door, with my breathing a little jagged because this is probably the most exercise I've gotten in the last 5 years, I almost slam my finger against the doorbell. It doesn't take long for the door to swing open and for Anwar to greet me with his signature jolly smile.

His ravenous hair is slicked back, with the recent grooming of his slightly thick beard adding to the sharpness of his aura. "Come in, Jaya," he greets, as he steps aside for me to enter. I enter the house and immediately start to bask in the familiar elements.

The sleek tiles that are mostly cold to the touch gently caress my feet with the heat they've grasped from the heater running in the house. In the corner of my eye, I see a head concealed by the refrigerator door. Immediately, I know that's Salim, Anwar's brother, with whom I bicker with like we're both 5 years old. The fact that he's neck deep into the fridge trying to look for something good to eat is almost a dead giveaway.

"Yo, Salim!" I call, and he pulls his head out of the fridge at the call of his name. With the slamming of the fridge door, the confused look he throws at me confirms my suspicions to a t.

His strong jaw, forest of ravenous hair, and pointed nose tell me that he's Anwar's brother without using words. The only differences are his slightly gentler eyes, slimmer eyebrows, and the fact that Anwar doesn't have the appetite of a blue whale. "Oh, it's you again. I thought someone worthwhile had walked through the door."

My scoff afterwards is accompanied by a slight chuckle, as Salim gives me his big goofy smile that lets you know that he's 115% joking. "Now, Anwar, the only way that this could be more complete is if Sakina were here," I say, as Anwar chuckles a little bit.