Page 54 of Not Your Basic Love Story

“The dad’s back. ‘We’ve been preparing for months, years, for you to take over the businesses. You didn’t stop to consider what this will do to us, this going back to school.’ The son says, ‘I thought you’d be proud of me. Getting into the UBC master’s program is a big deal.’”

“The mom interrupts now saying, ‘of course we’re proud. But we also know the local university has a master’s program and he’s only moving away to be with this gori—’ that means white woman— ‘and we won’t be fooled into thinking otherwise.’”

“The dad interrupts her, they’re talking over each other a little, asking if he even plans on going back to work in the shops after. The son says he doesn’t know. The dad’s furious now: ‘After all we’ve done for you, you’re going to throw it all away. For a girl.’ He says, ‘No, not for a girl.’”

By now, my palms were sweating. I flagged the server down for another drink.

Jagmeet continued. “He’s cut off again by his mom. ‘Your actions affect all of us. All the years of work we’ve done to build this family, and you’re behaving this way? How do you expect to attract a nice girl from a good family when you’re ready to settle down? No wonder things didn’t work out with Sonja. You need to stop fooling around.’”

The mention of Sonja’s name nearly made me choke on my drink.

“The son says not to bring her into this and that he isn’t fooling around, he’s serious about her. I mean you. The dad’s now yelling that he’s trying to abandon his responsibilities, but it’s time to grow up. Your boyfriend is saying that if he doesn’t have the support of the family he will take out loans, get a job if he has to, like Rebecca— I mean like you did. He seems to really admire you!”

I tapped the table, not wanting to miss anything on the recording.

Jagmeet went on. “The mom is saying: ‘What happens after school? What happens to the family? What will become of his grandparents? Is he going to abandon them all in a nursing home, like white people do?’ No offence.”

I cringed inwardly, but shrugged.

“The dad says: ‘If he’s going to behave selfishly and like a child, and make decisions without even speaking to his family, without consideration for their future, then he may as well not be part of the family at all.’”

The recording was muffled and then went silent.

I rested my face in my palms.

We were silent for a while. Jagmeet fidgeted and then finally spoke up. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No,” I said and fished out a fifty from my clutch. “Thank you.”

He hesitated before taking it from me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded and took a long sip from my Caesar. “I have a lot to think about... He didn’t even fight for me. For us.”

“Yes, he did.”

I slumped back in my chair, disappointment seeping heavily into my chest. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“Arguing with your elders isn’t something you do in an Indian family. There’s a lot of respect and reverence,” he tried to explain.

Priya didn’t seem to have a problem arguing with her parents.

“Listen,” Jagmeet said. “These big families, they’re complicated. There’s a lot of politics involved, a lot of working pieces. Everyone cooperates, works together. Well, most of the time. But I’m sure it will all work out.” Jagmeet offered a kind smile and then stood and made his way out of the bar.

I wished I had his confidence. Somehow, I didn’t think Dev’s decisions lately were part of the family’s plans at all. And who was at the center of it all? Me.

Checking the time, there was only twenty minutes before my coffeerendezvouswith Graham. Also, an unread message from Miranda. ‘So how’d dinner at his parents house go??? Call me!!!’ Kiss emoji, excited emoji, nervous emoji.

I left it on read, unsure of how to answer that question. Overall, though? Not well. Not well at all.

Usually, the constant rain I dealt with as a Vancouverite didn’t bother me. I’d grown up with the dreary sky and cold, wet droplets that fell most days of the year. Tonight, however, I’d have given anything for a bit of fair weather. My mood was despondent enough as it was.

I walked the few blocks back towards my apartment to the Starbucks where I’d agreed to meet Graham. Though I hadn’t eaten, I wasn’t hungry. Caesars were kind of a meal unto themselves, for one, and for two, the anxious ball of stress in my stomach was taking up a lot of room.

My mind was all over the place, tumbling between Dev’s family’s argument, our apparently crumbling relationship, and wondering what Graham could possibly have to say to me after so many months of radio silence. The most prominent question in my mind, though, was whether or not I cared.

The scent of freshly roasted coffee swirled out to greet me as I opened the door. Conversation hummed in the background; tables were crammed with people chatting, reading, and studying.

Graham was across the room, sitting at a table with two cups in front of him. Our eyes met. My chest tightened, and my palms began to sweat. I hadn’t seen him since the day he left. I’d stuffed his things into my old suitcases and thrown them into the lobby for him to retrieve rather than allowing him back into my home.

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