They ate in silence, enjoying the weather and the sea breeze. The breeze grew colder, and the beach patrons started to dwindle. Prem moved closer to Kareena and enjoyed the feel of her ponytail sliding against his bare arm.
He shifted on the sand, so he was facing her as she continued to watch the water. “Can you tell me?” he blurted out. “Tell me how a beautiful, vibrant person like you believes in a house filled with memories? Why do you think love is more than an illusion? That love can sustain a relationship for years?”
Her eyes widened, and she put her wrapper away before brushing her hands of sand. “Well, uh, okay. I guess it’s because I’ve seen how love has sustained my father for years. And I’ve felt those same memories keep me going for just as long. And I read romance novels. Romance novels sell an idealized fantasy that we all want to experience. They may be fiction, but there is a reason why so many people connect to love stories. Because that’s the type of feeling we want to give, and want to receive.”
“You’re so sure about that.”
“I am.”
Prem thought about Kareena’s past, her relationship to her parents, and then his relationship with his own parents. The arranged marriage. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard my parents tell each other that they love each other. Maybe when I was younger they showed each other affection, but they never even held hands. It’s like whatever fleeting emotions they had for each other dried up before I could witness it.”
Kareena smiled at him. “And that’s why you believe in partnership over love. Despite all the science about long-term love, or whatever. Prem, maybe it’s not one or the other. Maybe you have to have both for partnership to last forever. That’s what will sustain forever.”
“Forever is a long time,” he said, softly. He looked down at their linked fingers. “Did I ever tell you I was engaged?”
Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened. “No. W-what happened?”
Prem nodded, thinking of Gori and the memories he had with her. They were hazy now, like he was watching them through a fog. “It was an arranged marriage. Our parents knew each other. We had a lot in common. We believed in the same life philosophies. She was in business; I was in medicine. We also were pretty good in bed together. Three months after we met, and dated casually, we announced our engagement.”
“Wow,” Kareena said. She let out a deep breath. “That’s . . . that’s fast.”
“Our parents were already celebrating after our first meeting. They found a venue and set the wedding date for a year or so after our engagement. Gori’s headaches started soon after that.” He could remember the first one so vividly. He’d stayed over at her apartment, closed the blinds for her, tucked her in. Everything he could possibly think of doing to make her comfortable as she curled in the fetal position under a blanket.
“She went to her general physician who told her she just had some headaches. I convinced my attending to give her a checkup, too. As a favor they scheduled an MRI and CT, but it was too late.”
“Oh no. Prem . . .” Kareena whispered.
“She had a brain aneurysm that ruptured and caused a hemorrhagic stroke the day I was accepted at Einstein Medical in their cardiothoracic surgery fellowship. I got the call right as I was about to accept.”
Kareena scooted closer to him until their legs were tangled, and they were chest to chest, with Kareena’s head on his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”
It was easier to talk about Gori when Kareena held on to him this way, he thought. He combed his fingers through her unraveling hair. “After Gori died, I was lost for months. I should’ve done something more. I could’ve done something more. Health care for women, specifically women of color, is terrible, and if Gori had a place to go, with doctors who understood what she needed, then maybe she would be alive today.”
Awareness dawned on Kareena’s face. “Your community health center.”
“Yeah.” Prem scanned the now empty beach as he held Kareena close to his chest. It was dark, and a few couples walked hand in hand along the surf. The distant sound of music and chatter from the boardwalk intermingled with the soothing, consistent crash of surf.
“You are a good person, Prem Verma. Our parents view our success as a sign of whether or not their sacrifices in coming to this country were worth it. And you giving back, by making sure that their health and well-being is taken care of? That’s amazing.”