A Promise to Keep Read online

  “Amma?” I peered into the living room. My mother was immersed in the fabulous battle scene, that look of sheer delight in her eyes. One guy took a piece of cactus and stabbed another guy's ass with it. Genius. Whoever came up with that moment was a genius and I needed to meet him.

  “I love this movie.” She said. Okay, I could hold this off a little longer.

  “Amma, I'm going to bed. See you in the morning.”

  “Mm-hmm.” My mother replied. I took that as a yes and 'see you in the morning' type response. I trudged back upstairs to my bedroom. It had changed so much since I had moved out and I still couldn't get used to the new blue sheets and walls. I felt like I was a cloud lost in the sky. I didn't live with my parents anymore. The only reason I was here was because of my vacation from work and my relatives flying over. It would suck for them to move around a lot, especially my grandparents. They spoke no English and could never navigate around this place. They would get lost trying to find me in Atlanta so I figured the smart thing to do was to come up to North Carolina.

  I took one more look at the movie. The fight scene with the cacti was over and now everyone was dancing in Egypt. More specifically, they were thrusting around and dancing on top of the Sphinx. I didn't know whether to be appalled or amused. If I were the Sphinx, I would have wished that I was blind instead of lacking a nose. Maybe this whole thing made sense if I sat down and watched it in one go. Based on what I had seen though, I could tell I would not enjoy it much. I would get too nitpicky about how unrealistic all this was. Not even the horrible white bell bottoms would bring me amusement.

  Giving up on the movie, I stumbled into my bedroom. It looked just like it had when I first left the place. No clothes on the floor, an old lamp as my only source of light, and dust all over my drawers. I sat down on my bed and flipped through the phone book. Her phone number had to be in here somewhere. If Mary didn't agree to any of this, then I would have to get to my second choice and I did not want my second choice. She was a woman named Astra and, while she was intelligent enough to work with me, I think she got all the wrong ideas. She tried hitting on me even though I made it clear I had no interest. I ignored her, told her off in a friendly manner, pretended I was gay, pretended I was an alien, and so much more in between. If she got the hints, she quickly forgot them the next time she hit on me.

  I was a sucker though. In a brief moment of stupidity, I had given her my phone number and she had finally figured out how to text people. Now I was getting about a thousand text messages of love and I couldn't stand it. Every day, I got something new from her.

  You are the ghee and I am the fire. You melt into me.

  You are my lotus blossom in full bloom floating in my pond.

  If you were a bottle of Mirinda, I would drink you and savor every moment.

  This was what I was dealing with every single day. Dear Ma Kali, please do something about her! I was firmly convinced that the girl was stalking me now. I wasn't sure that she got sleep these days. Maybe I could convince my parents to put up an alarm system now. I didn't need this girl breaking into my house and listening to me snore.

  I took a quick glimpse in the mirror and sighed. Why was my mother trying to get me married? What girl was going to go after me? I was losing my hair, I had a goatee that made the women in my family cringe (I apparently looked like a Muslim with it, sweet Gods forbid), I bit my nails, and I looked like I was about to fall asleep any minute. My eyes are droopy and I have the wors t e case of verbal diarrhea. The way I saw it, my mother was wasting her time. If a girl loved me, great. If not, I wasn't going to cry in my pillow at night. Yet , this nagging feeling would not leave me. I could not sit around and let my mother go on and on about marriage. So that's why I had come up with this plan.

  I finally got Mary on the phone and explained the situation to her. I told her I didn't care how far along she was in the transformation, I needed her now. I knew she was still waiting for the operation to take care of her penis but other than that, we'd be fine. That would make her a lot more woman and was the only thing holding her back from being who she was. I had to admire her for all this. She knew what she was supposed to be and went through with it. While her secret remained a secret to some, she had gotten comfortable with me.

  “You see what has happened to my life?” I concluded. “You see why I wish I was adopted? I don't know how much more I can take.”

  "So let me get this straight. You want me to be your fiancée for your family." Mary said. “Never mind that they know and they've known me for a while and they would probably know that I'm not really your lover.”

  "That's right."

  "But we really don't have anything?"

  "We're friends."

  "Yet we're not lovers. Which is what your mother wants."

  "Well, no, we're not." God, this was uncomfortable. I just needed a yes or a no from her. Although I was pretty sure what the answer would be.

  "I can't do it."

  Yup. Right on the money.

  "Why not?"

  "It's just too weird. It's not my scene and I know I'd totally screw everything up with your parents. That said, I do know someone who might be helpful." She went on. “Why don't you ask that girl at work? What's her name? Astronaut or something?”

  Oh no. The conversation was going to a place I didn't want it to go. I was afraid that it would lead to Astra. The girl wanted to put her lips to my Thumbs Up and 'taste my thunder'. I don't know how she knew what Thumbs Up was, let alone its motto. I personally hated that drink. It was like Coke and Dr. Pepper melded together as one but nowhere as good as either. I didn't want her anywhere near my Thumbs Up or Limca or any other Indian soft drink.

  “I can't go to her. I've told her many times that I don't have any interest in her.” I explained. “So now she thinks I'm an uninterested, polite gay alien.”

  “Then maybe there is another solution to this.”

  “And what's that?”

  “I can ask my friend Rachel to be your fake fiancée.”

  I almost did a spit take at that. Being able to do that while not drinking anything was quite the feat. “Who?”

  “Rachel Morgan. I know her very well and she's easy to convince.”

  Another girl? A girl with the name beginning with R? Okay, this was getting creepy. It was just as the fortune tellers had mentioned. Rachel began with R. I was destined to be with a girl whose name began with R. But it could not be right. Rachel wasn't the only girl name that began with R out there. She couldn't be my future 'wife'. I had no idea who this Rachel was and I was worried that she would turn out to be some woman with twenty tattoos, a shaved head, pierced nipples, and the ability to crush my skull if I said the wrong word.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I squeaked out. It felt like someone had clamped my nads because I was hating hated how accurate the fortunes sounded.

  "Well, I'm not going to be your fiancée, Anwar. It's just not my thing. We're friends. We're not going to fake chemistry that isn't there." She said. "But I can help you convince Rachel to play along. She's a little bit older than you. That's not a problem, is it?"

  Problem? I was willing to take a seventy-year old at this rate. She could have had a broken hip and I'd still use her for one week. At that point, I forgot about how dangerous she could be. I needed someone. I was desperate, hopeless, a basket case. If I ended up in little pieces and thrown into a river later, so be it.

  "She can be old, young, whatever. I just need her for the week that my grandparents and relatives come to visit. Pretend that we're in love. Get my family off my back."

  "Wow, you guys really take marriage seriously."

  "You have no idea."

  This was true. My mother always said that Indian weddings were a grand affair. They weren't a one day deal. Instead, it went on for days. The actual marriage part didn't take long but the parties went on forever. According to my family, American weddings weren't really weddings. People got married but never celebr
ated the fact that they were man and wife. I secretly had to agree with her there. I had been to a few weddings but they were never the crazy lights and music festival that Indian people had. Even though I had gone to one Indian wedding in my life, it was more memorable than the other ones I had seen. If I got married, I would hope that my future wife would accept an Indian wedding.

  “You sure Astra or whatever her name is won't go through with this plan?”

  “I'd hope she wouldn't. Besides, the girl told me she wanted to taste my thunder. She thinks I'm a bottle of Thumbs Up. Gross, flat, and popular Thumbs Up. It's kind of creepy.”

  Mary laughed at this, “You're kidding.”

  “I wish. I can't help but wonder what she'll say next. That she's going to lick me clean like a bottle of Limca? Make out with me like I'm a bottle of Mirinda? Fuck me like I'm Frooti? I don't know about you but there are only so many drink and soda similes that I can make.” I shuddered at all of them especially the last one. Frooti was a drink for kids and I never wanted to hear a comparison to that in my life.

  “Well, I can talk to Rachel and see what she says. Tomorrow morning, I will give you a call and tell you what her plans are. If she says no, then prepare yourself for tons of drink analogies.”

  “Great.” I muttered. But there was a silver lining to this. Rachel, whoever she was, had to be better than Astra. At least I would be free of bad Indian soda analogies. I was hoping that Rachel didn't know what the heck Thumbs Up, Limca, Mirinda, and Frooti were. More importantly, I hoped she would behave well around my relatives. I wanted her to be the perfect bride without actually being my bride. I wanted to be in love with her without really being in love with her. That was all I wanted.

  I was sure of it.

  127

  Carter Tachikawa

  Chapter 2

  When I got a look at my 'bride-to-be', I was a little on the shocked side. Rachel Morgan wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I thought of a fiancée. There were no tattoos on her but she had piercings. She was a pretty woman with the piercings, I would give her that. She was willowy and tall and looked like the type who'd have a sense of humor. I could tell she was smart from the way she looked at me. But her physical appearance would give send my parents into a coma. The girl had blonde hair but it was streaked with pink. She also had an eyebrow that was pierced and her bosom were like mini Himalayas mountains. They could not have been real. Who knew what other secrets this girl was hiding? She was probably a serial killer who had done off the last couple of boyfriends she dated. Now she was looking for a new victim. New victim? Me.

  This was her. This was who I was pretending to marry. Dear God. But prior to that, I had no idea what to expect. I was hoping for an angel. The girl had to be one in real life if she was going to deal with my insanity for the next couple of days. I was surprised that she had agreed to meet with me. The fact that she didn't turn and run was good. Maybe she wasn't a killer but she had a good amount of insanity. She couldn't be an animal but she could turn it up a notch when needed. That was good.

  Mary picked me up around noon because my car was not working well and I didn't know where she lived. I had decided to look presentable in case the girl turned me down. But the nerves were getting the best of me. I was chewing away at my nails till I barely had any fingernail to chew. I didn't even know what roads we were going down, they were twisted and there were too many cars on them. My mind was too focused on my idiotic new idea. Why had I pulled this off? God only knew. I wasn't sure which God knew but they were probably pointing one of their many fingers at me and laughing. I sunk down in the seat and stopped praying to them. It was hopeless.

  “Is this a good idea?” I asked Mary as we pulled up into the driveway.

  “She's not that scary, Anwar. She won't bite you if you speak to her.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I know for a fact.” She cut off the engine and we got out. “Now come on. I'll introduce you to the woman that you'll be pretending to sleep with.”

  We walked up to the front door and I rang the doorbell. I heard someone yell “Coming! Just a sec!” and footsteps thudding towards the door. A quick pause and then it opened. My angel was right there in pink hair and pierces and big boobs hidden by a pink T-shirt that said “LOVE ME TENDER”. Love me tender. That was an Elvis song. Why the hell was it on her chest? Elvis would probably roll over in his grave again. Hell, I was rolling over in my pretend grave.

  “Mary!” She greeted my friend with a hug. “I knew you were coming but I was so not ready! I'm not even wearing my best clothes.”

  Best clothes? What the hell was written on those, “I Just Wanna Be Your Teddy Bear”? Mary nudged me and I realized that I had to say something. After all, this was my girl. Elvis songs on her bosom or not, she agreed to this. Maybe she was a crazy serial killer. Maybe I had eased my way into the worst situation imaginable and I was not going to get out alive.

  “And this is?” She turned to me.

  “I'm a crazy man!” I blurted out, unable to control my thoughts or larynx. Son of a bitch, what kind of a greeting was that? Rachel was desperately trying to keep herself from laughing, the corners of her mouth quivering and trying to turn upward. Mary rolled her eyes and I wanted to kick myself.

  “I...I should start this again”, I nodded, taking in a deep breath.

  Rachel chuckled. “Yeah, I think you're on the nervous side.” Really now? She must have had a PhD in figuring out people's emotions. “Just relax. I promise I don't bite a lot.”

  I cringed, “But you do bite?”

  “She's messing with you, ding dong”, Mary nudged. “Sorry about all this, Rach. You have to forgive him. He's a little scared.”

  Great. My friend had that PhD as well. “Yeah, let's start from the top.”

  We waited a full minute before I composed myself and began from the top. I reminded myself that Rachel didn't really bite people. She wasn't a vampire or had some fetish.

  “Hi. I'm Anwar Sharma”, I greeted her, handing her the box of Indian sweets. My mother had insisted that I give the girl something when I went to see her. It was only polite to do so for one's future wife. “I got you something for dessert. I didn't want to come empty handed.”

  “Hey yourself. I'm Rachel Morgan and that's sweet of you.” She said, taking the box and shaking my hand. I could feel the five rings she was wearing cut into my flesh. “Your name is unique.”

  “Blame my parents. They picked the name. They claimed they saw it in a book and wanted to give it to me regardless if it sounded good with my last name or not.”

  “Sounds good to me. Listen, Mary told me the whole situation and I think you've come to the right place.”

  “I have?”

  “Sure. Mary's decent, you sound decent, and I know how mothers can get. I thought about it all night and decided why not? The guy needs my help ; , I am but a humble servant.”

  “A humble servant for who m , Lord Shiva?” I wanted to know, raising an eyebrow. She looked confused so I explained. “The destroyer. You've got Brahma the creator, Vishnu the preserver, and Shiva the destroyer.” She still looked lost so I had to bite the bullet and ask. “Do you know much about Indian culture or Hinduism?”

  “Truth to be told, no. Whatever I know, I learned from the few Indian friends I've had in the past.” She admitted. “That's part of the reason why I said yes. I'm excited to know about this stuff. Plus scheming is something I do well. You need a plan, I'm your girl.”

  “Oh. Well, I don't need a plan, just someone who'll go through with it.” I felt iffy now. This girl was willing to go through my crazy ideas without knowing me. “I want my family off my back about marriage. They want me to marry some girl I will probably not like. I haven't liked any of their choices and they're getting impatient. Not to mention they think my biological clock is ticking. I didn't even know I had one but there you go.”

  “Bummer. You sound desperate.”

  Desperate? Geez, she needed to
stop showing off that imaginary PhD. I had gotten the message twelve seconds ago. I held back the snarky remark as she said goodbye to Mary and led me into her house. For someone who worked as a waitress, she had a pretty good pad. It was small and cozy and had enough room for her. She could be content with this. I found a spot on the blue sofa and sat down. It was a little on the lumpy side but I could deal with it. It wasn't a leather sofa but hell, it would do.

  “Wait in the living room. I've got to check up on the food in the kitchen. I'm a little late starting this and I know my sister is going to be pissed if nothing is ready”, She said, waving to me as she disappeared. I waved back and tried to pass time by looking at the place. Not bad after a few glances. The paint was peeling a little but not enough for anyone to notice immediately. Everything was neat and clean here. Books were stacked in order. There weren't too many decorations but the ones they had were tasteful. And of course, there were pictures. I saw Rachel in some of them and random people in others. I shifted around on the sofa and decided to look at two pictures in this room. They were sitting on the table and were the ones that stood out the most here. I wasn't sure what drew me to them but I had to look.

  One picture had a guy and a girl that looked a bit like Rachel around the eyes. I figured this must be a sister or something. It was against a mountain backdrop and the two of them were holding onto each other for life. The guy seemed pretty easygoing and fun. He was squinting at the camera but I could tell he was a good looking person. The sun must have gotten in his eyes for him to be doing that. He had an arm around the girl and it wasn't one of those awkward poses. He wanted his arm around her. The girl also looked sweet and nice. Thick dark curls, warm dark eyes, dimples, and porcelain skin. She reminded me of a china doll. I hated that I hadn't met this girl first. I also hated that she had a boyfriend because she would have been a perfect substitute for a fiancée.