Page 92 of Not Your Basic Love Story

As for the food, my digestive system was slowly acclimatizing to all the different spices. They were sure to stock up on milk (and Pepto), so I could remain seated through the meal. Dev was quickly acclimatizing to my gastrointestinal struggles, the poor guy.

After dinner, my evenings were either fully engulfed in the final stages of wedding planning or soaking up time with my fiancé. He still hadn’t given me my ring back, saying he was going to wait to put it on my finger until we were exchanging vows. I didn’t mind, to be honest. The giant thing was kind of a pain in the ass, anyway, and far too shiny for my monochromatic wardrobe.

Sitting there, I couldn’t imagine things being different. I didn’t want to imagine where I would be, what I would be doing instead of this if I hadn’t let Shawan into my apartment that day. I would probably still be in my sweatpants, eating ice cream, and swiping right on the swamp of available men on Tinder.

The day before the wedding, I’d brought my shagan gift to present to Dev and his family. Miranda and I had scoured various markets and put together a decent little gift basket from ideas on Pinterest. They accepted it graciously, though I have no idea if I did any of it correctly. It’s the thought that counts, right?

Then, it was the mehndi ceremony. Dev and the rest of the men retreated into the basement while the women took over the main floor of the house, which was decorated to the nines. There were red and gold draperies, strings of beads and bangles, and flowers galore. Many women were present that I didn’t know, but they were all friendly and welcoming. I’d even invited Sonja and Nicole. After our blunt drunk conversation in Whistler, I looked at Nicole differently. I was protective of her in a strange way. I knew in time I could be friends with Sonja, too, thanks to Miranda’s wise words and Dev’s indication that he and Sonja were more like cousins than ex-lovers.

I’d expected the mehndi ceremony to be a very serious matter, but it was more like a bachelorette party. We lounged on the furniture with one another, drinking champagne and having gorgeous henna tattoos inscribed upon our hands, arms, and feet. The precision of the application was incredible to watch. I joked with Priya that she could still be a tattoo artist by doing henna instead. Shawan agreed, but Priya didn’t seem convinced. I kept looking down at my hands, the designs catching me off-guard; it was a visual reminder it would be my last day as an unmarried woman.

I’d slept over at Dev’s house to make getting ready easier, though we didn’t share a bed. Shawan and Jag had been very welcoming to me, but after the one time together in his room, we had been respectful and kept the sexy stuff to my apartment in the city. Dev slept downstairs on the couch that night. It was everything I could do to keep myself away. Lying in his bed, enveloped by his scent, it was almost too much. I wished I’d packed my purple rabbit.

After our makeup and hair were done, they helped me into my gorgeous red lehenga. It fit perfectly and was much more comfortable than Margaret’s old vintage dress—though it still had a place in my heart, hanging red-stained and sad in my closet for now. I didn’t even mind that my midriff was bare. My golden maang tikka hung down to mid-forehead. Above it the phulkari, the veil part, covered my hair. Everything was adorned in sparkly decorations. The intricate designs had surely taken hours to sew on. I didn’t want to know how much it cost and didn’t have to, since they’d rented all the dresses for the occasion. Thankfully, the nath and earrings were all clip-on. Priya had been joking when she insinuated I needed to get my nose pierced. Dev was right; she did have an odd sense of humour, and I loved her for it.

Pretty much everything was ready, or so I thought. Priya approached with a sly look on her face and a red box in her hand, a card taped to the side. It read:

Hey sis!

Sorry I couldn’t be there for your big day. Priya told me you needed these fancy bracelets, so I bought them for you. Pretend I put them on, ok? Have a fun wedding! You and Dev should come visit me in Aus sometime. Priya can come, too ;)

PS: Sorry for what happened at the engagement party. And for what I said in the car. Mom bought me this book about being an anti-racist... I realize now what I said was wrong. I’ll do better.

Love ya

Kyle

Mom bought Kyle a book to educate him on racism? And he read it?Andapologized? Tears glistened in the corner of my eyes. His apology meant more to me than he could ever know.

I opened the box, revealing a multitude of glittering red and white bangles. Thechoora bracelets! It was his way of showing all of us how much he cared about my new family’s culture.Ournew family’s culture.

Shawan and Priya knelt beside me, and each slid the bracelets up my arms. Tears misted my eyes, my throat constricting. It was such a simple act, but it meant the world to me. I wasn’t of their culture, but they had every intention of including me and teaching me to be part of it.

Finally, I was ready.

I took a deep breath and stepped towards the mirror. I hardly recognized the person staring back at me.

I was a princess.

The elegant eye makeup, the gorgeous jewels, the vibrant red dress, the henna… it was better than anything I could have dreamed. It looked like I belonged. I belonged in the dress, belonged to this incredible family, belonged to this beautiful culture I was just beginning to dip my toes into. I lifted my chin, the amount of pride swelling in my chest alarming, considering weeks ago I was having a panic attack thinking about doing exactly this.

“I changed my mind,” Miranda said.

I looked to her, confused and a little worried. “About what?”

She joined me at the mirror and looked me up and down. “This was always meant to be your wedding dress. You look stunning.”

My mom smiled and nodded, patting at her eyes so her tears wouldn’t smear her makeup.

Looking at each one of the women present, all dressed in their traditional Indian clothing, I couldn’t help but smile and agree. They were ready.

I was ready.

We descended the stairs and piled into various vehicles to head to the temple. The Gurdwara was massive. I had been there before; Shawan had made a point of bringing me once to introduce me to some of their traditions and customs, and also to meet the person marrying us.

Our cars pulled up beside the front doors, and we all climbed out, energy buzzing between everyone else while I remained the calm, cool, center of it all. I’d always imagined being nervous for this part. But I wasn’t.

“Are you ready?” Shawan asked, smoothing my clothing from the ride.

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