A good Indian Girl

Chapter 4

Henry tucked his phone in his jacket pocket not wanting the temptation to call Anjali again. He pulled on the golden door handle of the brick pub taking in a deep breath. Glancing around the dimly lit room, he began to navigate his way towards the cherrywood bar. It was a typical weeknight at Cade's, filled with its regulars, mostly middle-aged working-class men.

Cade's had been a staple in this neighborhood for the past twenty seven years. If you were from the neighborhood, it served as a mini pit stop for a strong drink and your favorite song before calling it a night. For new patrons it was a hidden gem that helped increase their Instagram likes due to its classic and warm look. A place you want to be at that isn't trying to be something other than itself.

Henry always found it funny that Cade's looked like your traditional Irish local, when at its core, it was an Italian dive bar, as indicated by the Baggio Jersey that his uncle hung so proudly at the back of the bar. Tony never wanted anyone to forget that this was a blended bar, just how America is supposed to be. Henry suspected it was his uncle's way of reminding him that he was Irish, yes, but Italian at his core.

Finding a seat at the middle of the bar Henry knocked twice and placed his head in his hands.

"What can I get my favorite nephew besides a napkin for those tears?" A pudgy man in a white apron asked.

"Gin and tonic," Henry said, placing his elbows on the wood and steadying himself.

"Aw, what's the problem, let Uncle Tony take care of it," Tony offered while wiping down the bar.

"I don't think you can fix my heart."

Henry's face lowered into his hands. Tony slid him his drink and sighed,

"Nah, not my Anj! What'd you do?" He accused.

Henry's face shot up, "Nothing! I'm not Indian, okay?" He took a gulp of his drink and closed his eyes.

"Even betta you're Italian," he laughed. "So, what you're only half, you walk like you're whole," Tony shook his index finger at his nephew.

Henry returned imitating his uncle's Boston north end accent with. "The betta half of me is Italian, the lessa half is a sloppy Irish. Refill?"

"Aye, don't let your ma hear that. We don't need any more sloppy Cades running wild." Tony refilled his drink and continued, "Look you gotta win this girl back, I ain't eva seen you happier. She's worth the fight."

"You can only fight for a win. I can't win." Henry drained his second glass.

"Nah, nah, nah!" Tony shook his head, "This is why we shoulda stayed on the east coast kid. You eva been to a fight in your life?" Tony asked, throwing his rag over his shoulder, and leaning into the bar. "People pay big bucks for the show. Sometimes it ain't about who won, but who stayed on their feet the longest. You fight for that girl." Tony refilled another glass and walked back down to the other side of the bar greeting two of his regulars.

Henry sat there thinking about his uncle's words. How did Uncle Tony always know what to say? Anjali isn't married yet. It wasn't over until she said I do or signed a wedding certificate. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed her number. He took a sip of his drink on the first ring. He could feel his body relax and was thankful he was on his third gin and tonic.

"Hello?" her voice was faint and confused.

He took a deep breath, "Did I wake you?"

The line was silent for a moment, he could hear her shuffling.

"Yes, is everything okay?" She cleared her throat.

"No, unlike you I am not doing well... or fine... or good," he spat. "Unlike you, I can't sleep and not dream about you."

She didn't say anything, so he continued.

"How can you just forget me? How can you just forget about us?" He began to rub his forehead in frustration, he hated that she wasn't saying anything. "How can you just be this pushover?" He scoffed in disgust at the mere notion of her taking orders like a lost puppy. He could see so much strength in her, but she never showed it when he thought she should, and it irked him. "You just do what people want because they ask —"

"Aren't you asking me to do something that you want?" She yelled.

She never yells. He said nothing.

"You think it's so easy to just break away from my family? Do you really understand what you're asking?"

He remained silent.

"My family wouldn't be my family anymore. That's what you're asking."

Henry's throat tightened. He could hear her crying. He hadn't meant to call and upset her, he just wanted to hear her voice. Instead, he caused the strain in it. He took in a deep breath wishing he was beside her to hold her and calm her worries.

"Henry, I tried to tell you from the beginning," her voice softened. "I tried to make you understand that we could only be friends. I am so sorry that I put us in this position. I never want to cause you pain."

His eyes began to swell thinking of his baby's pain instead of his. How hard this must be for her, he wanted to tell her that he was sorry. She was right all along, and he would always be waiting for the moment she was ready for him. He would give up ten lifetimes for one with her, but he stayed silent, choking back his emotions.

"I should have never started seeing you knowing it would have to end. I wish things could be different. I am sorry they aren't," she finished.

She didn't need to apologize, and he wasn't going to let her whisper sorry for her true feelings. He understood what her family meant to her, and they were important to him too. He wanted them to see how much he loved her, as much as they loved her. He knew they wanted the best for her, and he wanted the same, it just so happened that he was the best for her, he could feel it.

"I am sorry too, but," a smile played on his lips, "I won't be sorry for the rest of my life, and I won't allow you to be either. I will fix this. You will never be the pushover your family thinks you are. I don't care what you say."

Henry hung up before she could respond. He downed the rest of his drink and slammed the glass on the bar. He stood up and pulled his jacket on.

"You leaving? Where are you going?" Uncle Tony asked, interrupting his conversation with Remy and Scott.

"To fight," he said over his shoulder.

"Hey, my money is on the other guy," Remy yelled after him.

"Mine too, pretty boy," Scott joined in.

Henry shook his head, assholes.