Wilted Petals

Chapter 9: Instant Bros

Anwar is great at two things: making friends fast and dressing. The dress thing makes sense because he's a bank loan officer, and according to him, having a really strong sense of style makes convincing people miles easier. But also, he's a god when it comes to making friends. He could be buying milk at the grocery store, and he'll become lifelong best friends with the guy in front of him in line. So when I invite him, Jen, and Manish to my house, I know that the meeting between them is going to be nothing short of epic.

    I'm making sure that whatever the hell I'm trying to cook up in my kitchen doesn't taste like I fished it out of my dumpster. Unlike Manish, who can make anything under the sun taste heavenly, I can only really cook South Indian food. Thankfully, it's not a problem, because all three love it and Manish will happily eat my pongal and sambar without hesitation.

    I lay out everything on the table so that they can all take it with ease. Thankfully, Salim isn't coming, otherwise I would've had to make 3 times as much food.

And it still probably wouldn't have been enough.

"Pakoras, pongal, sambar, and rava kesari," I mentally tally, as I make sure there isn't a spoon or drop out of place.

I mentally high five myself for a job well done, and check the time. "12:28," I read on my watch, as I meld my fingers together. Knowing Manish, he will be here within the next minute. Like me, he's punctual to pretty much everything and being late is one of the biggest sins in both of our books.

So it doesn't surprise me that within less than 30 seconds, I hear the doorbell ring. When the doorbell sound rings through the air, I waltz over to the mirror to make sure that I look presentable enough for him to not run away screaming.

My low ponytail doesn't have one hair out of place, while my peach lip gloss looks clean and fresh. My blank brown eyes are now colored by joy and by the sun shaped locket dangling from my neck, as my cheeks are slightly upturned from the joy and excitement. My chest deflates a little bit with a long exhale, as I go to answer the door. I swing it open, and surely enough, Manish is standing right there.

Crisp khaki pants are smoothed out over his legs with not one wrinkle creasing them. A dark gray sweater keeps him warm in this frigid weather, while his warm eyes and illuminated face also offset it. His thick, dark hair looks slightly shorter, and the front is slicked up. The sparse dotting of stubble is the last thing I notice behind that giant smile.

I move to the side and extend my arm to further my message. "Come on in, Manish." He gently sets foot inside my house, like it's made of cards and one step will cause the whole thing to collapse, as I close the door behind him to keep all the warm air circulating in the house. I pay attention to how Manish is eyeing my apartment, because cleanliness is one of my biggest strengths hidden amongst a sea of vices.

In an attempt to gain insight into what he's thinking and break the tension that is starting to suffocate the words between us, I say, "What do you think?"

Manish turns back to me, with a proud smile twinkling in his eye, and exclaims, "I love it. It's so neat and open." My cheeks inflate with an even bigger smile, as my hand points to the couch in front of us. Frankly, that's the best compliment I can get at that moment, since I pride myself on my cleanliness.

Manish goes and flops down on the couch, as I follow him and gently sit on the edge. Jen and Anwar will be here any time now, and I don't want to relax until everyone else is here and safe. "You can start eating if you want."

I can almost see a little puddle of saliva pool at Manish's mouth, as he eyes all the food that is laid out in front of him. "Jaya, you are evil. You know my weakness is Tamilian food." His hand darts towards the karandi to start spooning out some pongal, as I can't help but giggle.