“Your grandma is creepy.” He said jutting his chin at my grandma.

“No she is not! She is old!” I was infuriated, I pushed him and he fell on the gravel scratching his hands. Soon his mother rushed over covering the boy with her large arms.

“What is wrong with you?” She screeched as if he had lost a limb.

“He said my grandma was creepy!” I exclaimed. My grandma came waddling over and tried to subdue the lady by waving her arms frantically.

“You people have some nerve.” The lady said and rushed away. My grandma just looked at me sternly. She started yelling at me in Punjabi. I tried to explain to her that I was simply defending her honor. She told me not to. When I tried to ask her why she quickly shushed me and bought me a Popsicle.

We never spoke about this event at home. My grandma said it was better not to tell my mother and father, it would just upset them. I never understood what that lady had meant when she said “you people.”

**

“Steven you are so late.” I said staring at him as he sat down. I had been waiting at the restaurant for over an hour.

“Sorry babe, I got caught up at work.” He responded coolly taking a sip of his water.

“Why didn’t you call?” I asked.

“Chill, what is the matter with you? So I am a little late.”

“I have been sitting here for almost an hour and a half by myself. I look like an idiot.” I screeched slamming my menu on the table. “You think after dating for like three years you would stop acting so childish.”

“Oh God, I know exactly what this is about.” He said with a smug look on his face.

“What are you talking about?”

“You want to get married.”

“WHAT?”

“That’s it, you want to get married. I knew you were going to get weird about us moving in together.” Steven had just recently moved in together because Steven insisted. He said it was the only way we’d know if we were truly compatible.

“I don’t want to get married.” I yelled.

“Yes you do. You are so Indian about this stuff.” He replied nonchalantly.

“I am what?” I was shocked. What did that mean?

“You are so Indian all of a sudden.” He said again this time not even making eye contact with me.

“I have always been Indian Steven.” I uttered and then fell back in my chair.

**

I had arrived exactly fifteen minutes early. That’s what they say right? Arrive fifteen minutes before the interview. I walked over to the receptionist.

“Hi, my name is Aditi Sharma I have an interview scheduled for today.”

“What’s your name again?” She asked looking down at her keyboard.

“Aditi Sharma.”

“What?”

“Aditi Sharma.”

“Can you spell that please?” She looked up and rolled her eyes at me.

“Sure, Aditi, A-d-i-t-i. Sharma, S-h-a-r-m-a.”

“Ok, have a seat. Mr. O’Shea will be with you in a minute.”

“Ok. Thanks.” I sat down in the waiting area. There were three other applicants vying for the same position. I was nervous but confident in my abilities and experience. After twenty minutes the receptionist came to get me. I followed her into a large office. Mr. O’Shea was significantly younger than I had imagined. He looked about thirty eight; I saw pictures of his wife and children on his desk.

“Ok, Adeedee, is that right?” He asked. I smiled and nodded my head even though it was wrong I didn’t want to get into it. “That’s a rather peculiar name. What are you?”

“What am I?” I questioned puzzled at the way the question was phrased.

“Yeah, where do you come from? Your parents.” He asked shuffling through papers on his desk.

“Oh, well my parents are from India and I am from Queens.” I answered pushing my hair behind my ear.

“Oh that’s nice, India. Do you like Bollywood?”

“Yeah, I guess, yeah. Would you like a copy of my resume?” I said trying to change the subject.

“Oh, no need. So, why aren’t you wearing that dot? You know the red one?” He leaned in pointing to my forehead.

“Um, that’s only for special events.”

“Interesting, I thought it was a tattoo. You know my daughter has a lot of Indian friends, she is twelve. You guys are smart people. That nose ring you are wearing, does it mean you are married?”

“No, I wanted to get one; it has nothing to do with that.” I answered with my hands folded over my lap.

“Interesting.” He replied scribbling in his notepad. I wondered what exactly he was writing. Indian girl, dot less, wearing a nose ring and she likes Bollywood. I just fell back in my chair.

**