He’d called. A lot. He texted. A lot. It wasn’t a crazy amount, not call after call. Just checking in. Telling her where he was if she needed him. It would have been sweet if she hadn’t been so confused.

It had been three days. Three days of her lying in bed at night staring at the ceiling replaying the scene in the bathroom over and over in her mind.

She had come to one conclusion that surprised even her. If he had given her the speech at the table before showing her his bear, she would have thought he was insane and would have run for it spraying mace in her wake.

Knowing and seeing what he said he was, his words about commitment and desire took on a different meaning.

There was also the problem that he wasn’t so much a secret from her parents anymore.

The morning after their confusing yet enlightening date, the doorbell rang bright and early. Her mother muttered about salespeople and that she didn’t care about saving the whales as she went to answer it.

Zara and her father had been sitting on the couch watching the news together when her mother came up the stairs and walked in front of the television, plopping a huge bouquet of roses on the coffee table in front of them.

The flowers hadn’t even hit the glass of the tabletop before her hands were on her hips and her foot was tapping on the floor loudly. She was tapping so hard, the bangles on her wrists were jingling together.

“Who would be sending you flowers?” Her mother’s words held the level accusation one would reserve for accusations of treason.

“A friend, Mama.”

“A friend?” her mother said, making air quotes. “Friends don’t send big expensive flowers to each other.”

Her father was watching this interaction but said nothing. He was a smart man, and he hid in the shadows for as long as he could.

“They’re from a boy.”

“What? You think I was born yesterday? I know they are from a boy, but why?”

“He’s apologizing for something. Or maybe he’s just missing me, I’m not sure exactly.” Zara wasn’t sure why she even shared that much with them. It was like her mouth and her heart were bypassing each other.

“What did he do?” Her father decided to join the conversation.

“He told me the truth and I didn’t like what he had to say,” she said, again before thinking through her words.

“What was this truth?” her mother demanded.

Zara turned to her and narrowed her eyes. She was already so deep in it, she wasn’t sure if it was worth padding the truth for her mother.

“He told me he loves me. That he wants to spend the rest of his life supporting me and my career and making me happy.”

Her parents were quiet for a moment, staring at each other.

“Sweetheart, you know what we think of you dating,” her father started softly. Ever the quiet one in their house.

“We think it’s wrong!” Her mother started. “You know that you don’t need to be distracted. Do you want to ruin your future?”

“How is a man supporting my career going to ruin my future exactly?” Zara was defending a man she wasn’t sure she wanted.

“You can get married after school. There are plenty of nice boys to choose from.”

“You mean that you can choose from those that are Indian and you approve of.”

“Zara, this is not a joke. You think that we are going to just let you throw away your culture and your family,” her mother said.

“Or I could find a nice guy that enjoys our culture and is happy to participate in our life.”

“They all say that, but it never works. The food is so spicy, why does everything smell like curry? You people dance too much and your music is too loud,” her mother mocked.

“He’s not like that,” Zara said.

“Then why is he apologizing? These cost a lot of money. Is he rich?” Her mother asked.

“I have no idea what his financial situation is.”

“Does he work? School debt?” her father chimed in.

Her parents would be great at interrogating suspects for the police.

“No, his family pays for his school. I know that much.” Leave it to her dad to ask about finances. He was a big believer in the old idea of having a career and savings before marriage. You should be able to buy a home without going into debt. That was possible when he was younger. The Seattle housing market no longer allowed that. Even the smallest homes were out of the average person’s financial reach, let alone two young people just starting out.

Her father made a harrumphing noise and didn’t say anything else.

“What is his job? What is going to school for?”

“He wants to open a preschool and a daycare. I think it’s great.”

“He wants to care for children? Why? Is there something wrong with him?” her mother demanded.

“No, he likes kids. He’s good with them apparently, and he has a big family. This is something that would make him happy.”

There she was defending him again. Zara didn’t really think twice about his career choice. Her mother didn’t think it was a job. Looking after children was something a woman did because she was staying home taking care of her family. This wasn’t a terrible idea; it was just that most people didn’t have that luxury. Her mother didn’t see it as a luxury and that was part of her problem.

“Mama, his family has money. If I took Viv’s word on it he doesn’t even have to work. He wants to do something he loves. Why shouldn’t he?”

“Because it’s not a real job!” Her mother said, throwing her hands in the air. “And you, sneaking around with your cousin. Don’t think you fool me, young lady.”

“Mama, you worked full-time taking care of this house, cooking, cleaning, raising two children. You drove us to soccer practice, piano lessons, every team or club we wanted to join. You got up before everyone and went to bed after everyone. You think you didn’t have a real job?”

Zara’s mother pursed her lips, but there was something in her eyes that said she was happy her child knew how much she’d sacrificed to be with them.

“Fin has family that all work in the same companies. They need to know their children are cared for and are learning. He wants to be the person who helps them grow. I want to take care of sick children and he wants to care for them. It’s not that different.”

“Then why is he apologizing and why are you defending him so hard?” Her father asked quietly.

“Because I like him, I think. He’s… intense. He feels deeply and I’m not faulting him for that. It’s just that I have to focus on my school. I still haven’t had my medical school admissions interview. I need things to go well.”

“And you think he will distract you?” her father asked.

“Even if he doesn’t, do I risk it? Where can this go? I have medical school then residency. You know, Baba, how many people make it through that staying in the same relationship?”

“Your mother and I did.”

“You were already married. You were legally obligated to stay together. What if I need him and he leaves?”

“Then you know your mother was right!” Her mother wasn’t going to move from her stance. Once Veena Chadha settled on an idea, you couldn’t pry her from it.

“I haven’t made any decisions and I’m just going to go about my life like normal.”

Zara had meant that and she knew her parents were exchanging looks. They magically dropped the subject and she thought she had dodged a bullet with discussing things with them.

That was until the next delivery came of chocolates and a teddy bear. It was a nice gesture, funny if you thought about it. But she was holding firm that it was all too much to ask of her.

She didn’t want to admit that she missed him. Her stomach had an ache that had nothing to do with food or the bad corndog she’d eaten at the gas station. A sense of cold and being alone was hard for her to shake.

The next day when the doorbell rang she expected more flowers, instead there was a box sitting on the step. When she brought it in, she opened it to find a pair of pajamas that had Chewbacca on them and a bobble head of Groot.

They were good gifts. Damn him.

His texts kept coming, not all the time, but regular. When she went to class on Monday she thought it would be difficult to see him. But he was nowhere to be found.

She found herself looking for him as if he would be hiding behind a tree or something.

He was still communicating with her, but in his own way, giving her space.

She just wished she knew what to do with that space.