Sharmila Foi’s eyes water the way Sophie would have expected Nita’s to do.
“He would be very proud of you,” she says, holding tightly to Sophie’s hand. “And so would she.”
Sophie’s never been an overly emotional person, but her eyes fill with tears as her foi says the words Sophie hopes her parents would have uttered if they had been here.
There is a rustling outside the room, and then Vaishali Foi sashays in, her sari pleats swishing as she moves. She holds a paper plate with a half-eaten samosa on it, and Sophie smiles. After Naresh Uncle and Manoj learned of her wedding, they insisted on shipping Manoj’s secret samosa seasoning mix with explicit instructions on how to make them. Manoj didn’t trust anyone else with the spice blend recipe and assumed they would botch it even if they had the right measurements. It is a small thing, but having their samosas at her wedding makes it feel like her new friends are with her.
“You look beautiful, beta,” Vaishali Foi says, her voice warm with affection, as she places the plate to the side.
Sophie smiles shyly.
“There is someone here to see you,” Vaishali Foi says.
“Who?” Sophie asks.
“It’s best you just greet them.”
There is something unusual in her voice, and both Sharmila Foi and Sophie give her questioning looks.
“We will be starting soon, no?” Sharmila Foi says. “Why doesn’t she meet everyone who attends the wedding after. We don’t want to be late and miss the auspicious hour.”
Vaishali Foi shakes her head. “We won’t, yaar. There is time still, hah.” Her tone suggests there will be no stopping her. “I will bring them now. Sharmila, come with me.”
Sharmila Foi follows her older sister’s directive. Her fois could be so silly sometimes. Sophie thinks it must be some relative from Kiran’s family whom they are afraid to offend. Her fois have been on edge, thinking that any small act of impropriety could cancel the wedding, so they have been especially accommodating to Kiran’s family members.
Sophie touches her bangles again, feeling like she is not alone as she enters this next phase of her life. There is some murmuring outside the room, and then Vaishali Foi is back. Peeking out from behind her is Vijay, and behind him is Maggie, with Sharmila Foi bringing up the rear.
Sophie takes a step back, startled.
“But what—” she begins, unable to finish her thought.
“I believe you know these two,” Vaishali Foi says. “They have traveled a long way to be here, and I thought it was important for them to see you before we begin.”
“How did you—” Sophie’s eyes widen.
Maggie steps forward so that she is now at Vijay’s side, her hand on his shoulder. “Your aunt called us a couple weeks ago.” She gestures toward Vaishali Foi. “And Vijay and I discussed it and thought it was important for him to be here. Isn’t that right, Vijay?” She nudges him toward Sophie.
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I figured this whole marriage situation was going to be a one-time thing for you.”
Sophie manages a smile. “I hope so.”
“Yeah, and I’ve never been to India, and Grams and I had been talking about it, so it just seemed like maybe now was as good as any other time.”
“We were thrilled to hear about your engagement,” Maggie says, coming to give Sophie a warm American hug while her fois look on, surprised. “Congratulations, my dear. You look absolutely radiant!”
Sophie is stunned that Vijay and Maggie are in Ahmedabad and standing in her dressing room on the day of her wedding.
“I can’t believe you’ve come all this way!” Sophie looks at Vijay, surprised she is seeing him again.
After their conversation in Los Angeles, Sophie had resigned herself to the fact that he didn’t want her in his life and she needed to accept that and move forward with hers.
“We’ll give you two a minute,” Maggie says, taking charge and ushering Sophie’s fois outside of the room so that Vijay and Sophie can have some privacy.
“You look really pretty,” he says when they’re alone.
“Thank you,” she says, taking in his Western-style navy-blue suit and gray tie. “You look very handsome as well.”
She suspects Maggie made him shop for something appropriate for a wedding. The suit doesn’t quite fit him, in the way that is common for young men who haven’t yet fully filled out their form, but Sophie can tell it is the most formal thing he has ever put on his body.
“It means a lot that you are here,” she says.
He nods, staring at the floor. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry if I was rude when you came to LA. It’s just, well, I mean—my memories of my mother—our mother, I guess—are different from yours, and I put all that stuff out of my head a long time ago. That time . . . the way she was . . . it’s not something I want to remember. I don’t have happy memories of her and Mathieu.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I understand. She was a complicated woman. I suppose everyone is, deep down, and I can’t imagine what you went through. I’m sorry your memories of them aren’t pleasant, but I hope you know none of what they did was your fault.”
Vijay’s face clouds over, and Sophie can see how traumatic these memories are for him.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, but if you ever want to share something, even if it’s something bad about her, I’m ready to listen,” Sophie says.
He nods. “Maybe one day.”
“And for what it’s worth, I’m sure she loved you. She loved us both, even though she couldn’t really show that to either of us. But after unraveling the things I have, I think that’s why she wanted to bring you to India. She loved you too much to keep you in that life, and she was willing to sacrifice herself to change that for you. But the addiction that gripped her mind was stronger than the love she had for us. I have to accept that too. That she somehow thought leaving me was the best way she could love me.” Sophie’s eyes shimmer as the pain that has lingered around her begins to rise to the surface again. “But I know how hard it will be for both of us to make peace with what she did.”
Vijay shifts uncomfortably, and it’s clear he isn’t sure what he should do if she starts to cry.
“Who knows what went through her mind,” he says and then manages a half smile. “But today I hear you are getting married, and we should stay positive.”
“Maybe so.” She hesitates for a moment and then says, “There is a tradition where the men on the bride’s side carry her in on a wooden dolly. I don’t really have any direct relatives, so my fuas and cousins were going to handle it with some of their friends. Would you like to join them?”
Vijay pauses as he considers this. “I don’t speak Gujarati or Hindi or anything, so I’m not sure if I’d need to know that. I don’t want to mess anything up.”
Sophie laughs. “You’d just have to walk with them. And everyone speaks English, so you’ll be fine. If you feel up to it. If you’d rather stay with your grandmother, then no pressure.”
Vijay shrugs. “I guess I could. But won’t people wonder why some random stranger is in the wedding?”