Chapter 3
1045 Words
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"Move your car." Mr. Greco waved at me dismissively.
I raised a brow when I heard the tone he had used on me.
Do I look like a freaking coolie to him? He comes and parks in my spot and then talks like he is the one to have employed me.
I had quite a variety of things that I wanted to tell him. But then I thought, well who cares what this dude does? I just want my spot back.
I moved my car enough for him to take his car out of my spot before I parked mine in place and got out.
I flinched when I heard the bumper of Mrs. Nelson's electric pink electric car hit the ground. Stefano got out of his car, checking if his own car had any damage before turning around to face me. "Problem resolved."
You could have done it earlier and saved me the trouble of waking up this early.
I did not say that out loud.
Instead, I gave him a thumbs-up; I was impressed. If there was ever a Stefano Greco Fan Club, I was going to be the president. That had already been decided.
"Great." I clapped enthusiastically and then took off his coat, tossing it at him. "Now you go away while I go back to my bed. He is waiting impatiently for me."
"Who?" Stefano had confusion etched on his face.
"My bed, duh." I shrugged before turning around and walking away. I think I heard a slight chuckle as I did. I hope he didn't laugh at me, because I knew how to throw punches and I don't think he will be able to take them.
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I am not a crazy person. Nor do I like it when people think I am a crazy person. But what can I say? In this world full of crazy people, the only sane ones are seen as crazy.
"Beta (Child), he is a software engineer. And he has his own property in Ludhiana." My Mom was listing out the qualifications of the suitor she had found for me. Indian parents, I tell you!
"Mommy, what makes you think I am interested in a stupid software engineer?"
"Stupid?" My mother looked shocked. "He graduated from IIT Delhi. He is not stupid!"
Of course, a degree from IIT or AIIMS was the ultimate deal closer in our culture.
"Mommy, don't irritate me!" I whined as I sat cross-legged on the couch. "I don't want an arranged marriage. Get Annu married first."
That had my sister, Ananya's attention.
"What are you looking at?" My mom smacked her across her thigh while I snickered.
"Why would she get married when you are unmarried?" She turned to me.
"Because I am too happy in my single life to even want an exclusive relationship. You are talking saath janmom ka bandhan (bond for seven lives)." I held my arms out as I emphasized another belief in our culture - that marriage is for seven lives.
My Mom, Jannat Virendra Singh Gill, clucked her tongue as she leaned back, giving me the same old look she uses to guilt trip everyone she knows.
"I already had two heart attacks." She sniffed. "Who knows how long I am going to be alive! I just want to see my grandchildren before God takes me-"
"Keep wishing that and you would actually be immortal." Ananya was quick to point this out.
While Mom dropped her act to glare at my younger sister, I tilted my head in her direction. "Kyun (Why) Annu? You don't plan to get married?"
Ananya turned red as a beet instantly. Of course, she was going to get married. To her beau. Saurab Basu.
He is Bengali.
We are Punjabi.
And Punjabis and Bengalis never really got along.
"Mind your own business Di (Elder Sister)." Ananya glared at me.
"I would, if you would do the same."
Mom was in the room or else we both would have been using pretty explicit language by now and there would have been hella lot of casualties if we were in the same room.
"Bas! (Enough!)" My Dad, the great Virendra Singh Gill walked into the room, a box of sweets in his hands.
I am sure it was full of Kaaju Katli. Mommy's favorite.
That my friends, is where I get my standards from. I am not settling for anything less than this.
"I am hanging up." I said as I took the laptop.
"I am not going to talk about your marriage beta."
"Yes you are." I rolled my eyes. I mean, come on, they are MY parents. Of course I know how their brain circuits work.
I closed the laptop and sat back on the couch, puckering up my lips as I looked around. I was hella hungry.
Why the hell was I so hungry when I had just finished stuffing my mouth with shami kebab, rumali roti and shawarma?
Then again, did it matter? I was going to eat all that I want.
I made my way to the kitchen and brought out the required items for a simple sandwich.
And then the doorbell rang.
Did you know? That doorbell rarely rang. But since that dude came to stay next door, it has been ringing non-stop. It's so freaking irritating.
"If it's that piece of s**t, I swear to God I will kill him!" I huffed as I put down the knife and made my way to the front door, tapping on the security device.
I was surprised to see that it was not the neighbor but my own niece, Prakriti Gill.
"Kriti?" I hugged her as soon as I saw her - I don't know whether I did it because I had missed her or because of the condition she was in.
"What happened?" I pulled back from her and rested my hands on her shoulders.
"Can I get some water first?" The poor girl was panting and so I nodded and made my way to the kitchen.
Prakriti followed me to the kitchen and pulled herself up to a kitchen stool.
I placed a glass of lukewarm water in front of her.
"Now. Spill."
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- Writer
