I’m getting married tomorrow. My mother calls, at ten minutes to midnight, to ask whether or not I am going to wear a dress. She’s drunk and the slur of her words pelts me through the phone line like wine-soaked… Continue Reading
“Bhaiya! Bhaiya! Where are you?” Shalu is breathless. She wants him to see her bangles. She wants him to admire her wedding sari, the gold earrings and necklace; her shiny new slippers. The red lipstick and bottle of maroon nail… Continue Reading
The invitation to Melissa’s wedding — her second — came from my mother over the phone. “Well, Patty, are you coming?” Mom asked. “Coming to what?” I tried not to sound impatient, but I was on my cell while driving… Continue Reading