Chapter 11: Chapter 11
The shrill ringing pulled her from the depths of sleep. Disoriented, she rolled over, one hand groping in the dark for the offending phone, cursing when she accidently knocked over the paperback she'd been reading from the nightstand.
Finally, her fingers closed over the phone and she lifted her head to squint at the LED, groaning at the caller ID display, flopping back against the pillows as she brought the phone to her ear.
“Hello, Mummy.” She croaked and cleared her throat. From the sounds of traffic coming from the speaker, Sam guessed her mother was in the car, probably on her way home from her shop.
“Why haven't you responded to my email yet?” As usual, her mother wasted no time in getting to the point. “And is it so hard to pick up a phone and call your mother once in a while, leh?
“But, I called you last week!” Sam protested, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stole a glance at the illuminated digital clock on the nightstand and suppressed another groan.
Barely four in the morning and she had to deal with this. Not fair!
“So, I have been relegated to once a week calls? Is that what you Americans do now?”
Sam rolled her eyes at her mother's choice of words. It was always ‘you Americans’ when she wanted to guilt trip her offspring. Plus, it wasn't even up to a week since the last call. They'd talked on Saturday and today was Friday, so…technically, less than a week.
She kept that little tidbit to herself though, no need adding logs to an already burning fire.
“I'm sorry, I'll try to call more often.”
That seemed to mollify her mother - for the moment.
“How is your brother? I hope he's not overworking himself at the hospital? I called him yesterday, but of course, the boy was too busy to talk to his mother...” Parvati heaved a sigh. “If I had known sending my children to America would make them forget simple family values, I would never have encouraged your father. Amir is no better, and that wife of his...I pray everyday for patience to tolerate…”
Sam pinched the bridge of her nose and prayed for patience herself as she listened to a litany of her sister-in-law's shortcomings - chief among those the fact that Chizzy Bhaat was not her choice of a wife for her first born son.
“Mummy, Chizzy is a wonderful girl,” Sam replied and meant it. From the moment Amir had introduced the bubbly artist to Sam, the two got along really well.
“A wonderful girl whom your brother didn't even bring home first before marrying her? If she's so wonderful, why did he hide her from his family?”
Because you would have disapproved and found a way to discourage the marriage.
Again she refrained from pointing out the obvious. Seriously, was it too much to ask that she get a few extra moments of sleep before another loaded workday?
“Don't even think of pulling that stunt, you hear? My poor heart cannot bear another heartbreak. Find a nice, Indian man and bring him home, get married the proper way.” Parvati ordered sternly. “I wish dear Zahir was still alive, but alas, we cannot question Fate.”
“No, we can't.” The mention of Zahir's name caused a tightening in her chest and her words came out shaky. She shut her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath which helped relieve some of the old ache.
As though sensing her change of mood, Parvati's tone softened. “How are you coping, Dearest?”
“I'm fine.” Sam wiped at her damp eyes, forcing a cheerful lilt to her voice. “Been busy with work, but things are great.”
“Don't be like your brother and work too hard,” Parvati replied. “But, I'm happy you are doing fine. By the way, what do you think about that list I sent you?”
Sam groaned. “I haven't had time to really check it out.”
“Well, do so and let me know, okay? I have made arrangements for you to meet with Vihaan, his sister's wedding is next month and I managed to get an invitation for you, check your email later. Of course, Yash will go with you -”
“Mummy, I can't just show up at the wedding!” Sam sat up, aghast at what she was hearing. “I don't know anyone there, and besides, I'm not looking for a husband.”
And I'm certainly not going to be desperate enough to crash someone else's wedding just to meet a man.
“Hai! You are not getting any younger, Sameera, you know.”
“I'm not going to the wedding.” Sam told her mother in a firm tone.
“Arre Baap re! I swear the gray hairs on my head just multiplied.”
“That's why hair dye was invented.” Sam quipped, already picturing her mother throwing up her hands in despair.
“Wait till you're my age, and your daughter starts mouthing off at you for trying to secure her happiness. You'll understand how I feel then.”
Thankfully, that was still a long way off.
“No wedding, but if you text me his number, I will consider giving him a call.” Which meant never.
Parvati sighed and capitulated. “Fine. I suppose that will have to do.”
“I have to get ready for work, Mum.” Sam said, eager to end to conversation before her mother launched into something else.
“Oh? So it’s still morning there? I never remember the time difference.”
“Yes, it's going on 5 a.m.”
“Isn't that too early to be getting ready for work?”
“My office is quite far from here, and I need to be on time to catch the train.”
“Why can't Yash drive you to work?” Parvati demanded, “I don't like this idea of you taking the subway alone, I hear those places are filled with dangerous people.”
“It's no different in Mumbai, you know.”
Her mother chose to ignore that. “Is Yash around? I want to speak to him.”
Sam rolled her eyes in exasperation. “No, he's still at the hospital. And I can take care of myself. Look, Mum, I really need to go.”
“Ah, okay. Have a lovely day at work, and tell that brother of yours to call me today.” Sam knew the matter hadn't been dropped, only differed for the time being.
“Love you, Mum.”
“Love you too, stubborn daughter of my heart. And remember to eat. I showed your Nani that photo you sent on Whatsapp last month, and she complained you’ve lost too much weight. No man wants a stick for a wife, leh?”
“Yes, Mummy, I'll eat more. Tell Nani I said hello.”
Mission accomplished, her mother was only too happy to end the call.
With a sigh, Sam tossed her phone on the bed and rose, rolling her shoulders in an effort to ease the tension speaking to her mother had wrought. She pulled down the straps of the lace and silk black romper she'd worn to bed and headed for the bathroom.
Minutes later, she stood at the chest of drawers, struggling to slide shut a drawer filled to overflow with underwear of every color and style. With a last push, the thing slid only halfway shut and she sighed, a pale lace bra and matching panties in hand.
She picked up her phone, ignoring the text from her mother with Vihaan's number and typed a quick text to Dee.
Next time I try to buy more lingerie, please hit me over the head with a shoe.
She hit send, and moments later, a reply came.
That won't work, you'd just wake up from the coma I put you in, and go buy more. How's my honey boo? Is he home?
Honey boo? That makes my teeth ache. And no, he's not.
Any news about tall, fair and handsome? Has he bent you over his desk yet?
Sam tried not to picture the scene Dee's words conjured and failed. Miserably.
She felt her skin heat up at the fantasy of Ryan, standing behind her while she lay, legs spread, belly and breasts pressed against the desk. Of his hands sliding up her skirt to caress her bare skin, sliding down her panties before freeing himself, and sheathing his hot, hard length deep into her in a single thrust while they both groaned from the force of his possession.
Then she pictured the panicked look on his face when he'd essentially bolted from the couch, two days ago and that killed the fantasy.
Her heart constricted at the memory and she reminded herself sternly, that she was done with this stupid infatuation and all the reasons (six in total) why it was the best thing to do.
Number one reason being, starting something with Ryan would ultimately complicate matters, especially given the nature of their work relationship. And from Ryan's behavior, he probably thought the same.
She shook her head and typed a reply.
No, and there will be no bending over. Ever.
My Spidey sense tells me there's more to this. Spill.
Later. Need to get to work.
Drop by my place after work, and we'll head out for drinks.
K.
Dropping the phone, she pulled on the underwear and crossed to her wardrobe. Mindful of her meeting up with Dee later, she opted for a short sleeved, apricot V-neck bodycon dress that ended just above the knees, pairing it with matching color shoes. Hair swept up in a loose braided French twist, makeup light but chic and she was ready.
She entered the living room, just as the front door opened and Yash stumbled in, still dressed in surgeon's scrubs under a tan overcoat, hair sticking every which way. He gave Sam a bleary smile before collapsing facedown on the couch with a groan.
“I could sleep for a fucking year.” His voice was muffled by the couch.
Sam tutted in sympathy, knowing he'd just finished a forty-eight hour shift. “Want me to help you to your room?”
“Nah,” he waved off her suggestion. “Don't wanna move. Start coffee, please?”
“Sure,” Sam crossed to the kitchen and pulled out the bag of ground beans, feeding some to the coffee machine and started it brewing. Opening the fridge, she pulled out a Tupperware of leftover butter chicken that Dee had cooked and transferred it to the microwave, while Yash's light snores filled the room.
Food and coffee ready, she carried both to the living room, placing them on the coffee table. Yash stirred at the smell of coffee and pulled himself to a sitting position with a yawn.
“Thanks Sam,” he said, reaching for the steaming cup.
“Mum called this morning, and wants you to call her back. Heads up, she’s going to yell at you for not driving me to work.” Yash's groan summed up his feelings on the matter.
“She knows we're adults, right?” He muttered, taking a sip from his cup. At thirty-one he was three years older than Sam, not that their mother deemed it old enough to stop trying to order him around.
“Try telling her that. At least she doesn't try to set you up with ‘suitable’ mates.” Something in Yash's expression had her looking at him with raised eyebrows. “Wait. You too?”
“Got an email last week.” He grimaced in distaste. “Told her I already had a girlfriend and she said she didn't want, and I quote ‘A girl who shows off her body to the world, as a bahu.”
“Yikes.” Sam leaned over and patted his lap in sympathy. Dee was a former Victoria’s Secret model, turned lingerie designer, a sore point for Parvati Bhaat.
“Yeah. Yikes.” Yash glanced at his watch and looked at her in concern. It's almost 7, shouldn't you be on your way?”