If you want to read the story from the beginning, click here. (https://wp.me/p2b25R-fw)

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Winter 2014

I am back in Stuttgart. Lily has come to pick me up at the airport.

“It is so great to see you in the flesh after what you had been through,” she says as she rushes towards me and hugs me tight. We kiss.

“Wait,” she says as she rubs her right thumb across the scar above my left eye. “What’s this? Where did you get this?”

“What?”

“This thing across your face.”

“Oh, that. I’ll tell you later. Not a Biggy.”

“You were hurt. And you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, if you want to know, when I called you after the shootout near the high school, I was in a hospital where the doctors were treating my wound. A  bullet hit me.”

“Arjun! Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I didn’t want you to get all upset and worried about me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Well, I consider myself lucky,” I say. “So glad to see you, too.”

“Promise me you are not returning to that horrible place.”

“Not for a while at least, as far as I know.”

The schedule at the base is heavy, though more predictable than the one in Afghanistan. I work long hours every day. I get reports about who is deployed where, who is alive, and the status of the operation. Most people from my platoon have been assigned to other locations or have returned home. I am assigned staff duties that include gathering intelligence from the field, preparing PowerPoint charts and briefs for my bosses, and also training the new arrivals. The new arrivals ask me about my deployment life. I don’t have clear-cut answers. I do my best to make them aware of the unpredictability and dangers one faces when deployed. The sheer volume of work is overwhelming even though I am on a base away from active duty,

I still miss the adrenaline high of the everyday mission in Khost. My compensation is that I get to talk with Lily daily. Just hearing her voice is all that matters.

I look forward to the weekends when I visit Lily in her apartment. I have left my guitar there.

******

One weekend, we don’t feel like cooking or going out to eat.

“Why don’t we order pizza?” Lily suggests.

“Fine with me.”

Lily brings a bottle of Merlot. I open it and fill two glasses.

I hand one glass to her.

The pizza arrives half an hour later.

“Cheers,” I say as we sit at the table and raise my glass to touch hers.

“Cheers,” she says, reciprocating.

“Shall we watch a movie?” I ask after we have devoured the pizza and drink wine.

“Naah.”

I move over to the sofa as Lily dims the lights and turns on the radio to a station playing soft music. She sits close to me with her legs folded on the couch and rests her head on my shoulder.

“Let’s listen to some music,” she says.

We are quiet for a while.

“Arjun,” Lily says, playing with a button on my shirt.

“Yes.”

“How was it when you were growing up?”

“Quite nice, I would say.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, my dad, you know, still had his Indian ways. He wanted to keep the traditions and wanted each of his children to follow a professional career. My mom, on the other hand, was more tolerant with us growing up doing what American kids did.”

“Did you mind that?”

“We had some disagreements, but it was okay.”

“Is that why you joined the Army, to prove you have your own mind?”

“In a way, yes, but I felt I had a calling. Enough about me. What about you?”

“As I said before, my dad traveled a lot, and we kids were left with our mom.”

“It must have been difficult.”

“Not really. I looked after Hans by babysitting when Mom had to go somewhere. I also helped her in the kitchen.”

“Do you like children?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you like having a large family?”

“Not too large.”

“Why are we talking about all of this?”

“I don’t know. Just making small talk, I guess.”

The radio is playing Simon and Garfunkel’s Scarborough Fair. I hold Lily close to me and close my eyes. A few minutes later, she looks up at me, and we kiss. She snuggles closer to me. Two songs later, I realize she has closed her eyes and is sleeping. I don’t want to wake her up. I lift her softly and walk up to the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. I lie down beside her and pull the blanket over us.

******

Lily likes to cook. When I tell her that I don’t particularly like German food, she tries Thai or Chinese recipes. Lily wants to try cooking Indian food. We have a video chat with Mom and ask her about some easy Indian recipes. She does her best. Lily is confused when Mom’s directions include “pinch of this and pinch of that.” Why doesn’t she say, “one teaspoon of this?” Lily asks.

“That’s the way Indian cooking is,” I say. “It has been done for centuries.”

“Then how does one decide how much of an ingredient to use when cooking for two people or twenty people?”

“Practice and judgment.”

Mom has given us a list of grocery items and spices. A Google search identifies an Indian grocery store nearby. It is a small rectangular room. Upon entering, we are hit with the strong, pungent odor of spices. Spices are stacked on two rows of racks in the middle of the store. Frozen, ready-to-eat items and Indian ice cream with various tropical flavors are stored in freezers lined along the wall at the back of the store. Jute sacks of rice and floor are stacked from floor to almost the ceiling on a wall on the left. We wander around the store with Mom’s list to find the items she has recommended. There are multiple brands for the same thing. We stand in front of the stacks of basmati rice, but don’t know which of the many brands is good.

“I am amazed at how Mom does her shopping,” I say. “This is so confusing.”

We walk to the store clerk, who is also the cashier, and ask him to help us find what we are looking for.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. First time here?” he says, smiling.

Cooking is a joint endeavor. I help Lily by cutting vegetables. I have made small balls of the kneaded wheat flour. I am trying to roll them in a round flatbread as I sprinkle white flour on it to make it easier to roll with a rolling pin.

“What does my mom say, a pinch of this and a pinch of that?” I say as I sprinkle flour on Lily’s face.

“Stop it,” she says in mock anger.

I continue to sprinkle more flour on her. She reciprocates. Soon our faces and hair are white, and so are our clothes. There is flour all over our clothes. We look like two zombies made up for Halloween.

“Look what we have done. We are acting like a bunch of kids,” Lily says.

“Yes, we are.”

We finish cooking. The bread has taken odd shapes: square, triangle, and octagon. We don’t care.

“We are not eating with a mess like this on us. I think I’ll take a shower.” Lily gets up as she says this and starts walking toward the bathroom. Halfway, she stops, lifts her left hand, and beckons to me to follow her, and I do.

*****

It has been six months since I returned from Khost. I get orders to return home in two weeks. I want to spend as much time as possible with Lily. One day, we visit the Vinayaga Indian restaurant and splurge on good food and wine. The wine has put us in a happy mood.

“Can you play a song for me?” Lily asks when we are back at her apartment.

“What would you like me to play?”

“I don’t know. Your choice.”

“Okay.”

I sit on the sofa as Lily sits right in front of me on the coffee table. I strum the cords for a minute.

“Here’s one from Elvis,” I say.

Wise…men… say… only…fools… rush in

But…I…can’t… help…falling…in love… with you

Lily gets up, closes her eyes, and starts to slow dance as if with an imaginary partner. I continue to sing along.

Shall…I say… would…it be …a sin

If I …can’t… help…falling in…love with you

A while later, I get up, put the guitar away, and walk toward her with an outstretched hand.

Take… my… hand

Take my… whole…life too.

I hold her in my arms. We dance cheek-to-cheek.

For…I…can’t… help…falling…in love… with you

For… I…can’t… help…falling…in love… with you

We kiss as I finish the song, and keep dancing.

“Oh, Arjun. I’m so happy when I am with you.”

“Me, too. And I really mean every word of the song.”

*******

The Saturday before my departure, Lily and I visit her parents’ home. I have two things in mind. First, I’ll say goodbye to Bertel and Alina. Bertel has been so gracious, sending me a copy of the Gita when I was in Afghanistan. Second, I want to ask Bertel’s permission to marry Lily.

“So glad to meet you again,” Bertel says, extending his hand. “I have heard all about your work in Afghanistan from Lily and your heroic effort to save the man from your platoon.”

“Thanks. Glad to be back alive,” I say. “And thanks also for the book you sent me.”

“Was it helpful?”

“Oh, yes. I read a few chapters whenever I had time, amongst everything that was happening. Especially the one about the battle between the brothers and one’s duty in a war.”

“Well, that’s great.”

Alina comes in and takes Lily inside, apparently to help her with the cooking. I am looking for a proper moment to raise the question about Lily. Bertel and I talk for a while about the war. When we come to a pause in our conversation, Bertel asks if I want something to drink and starts to get up.

“Excuse me, Bertel,” I say.

“Yes?”

“As you know, Lily and I have been seeing each other for several months now.”

“I’m listening.”

“And we like each other.”

“I know.”

“Well. I want your permission for me to marry Lily?”

Bertel pauses for a moment and sits down in front of me. I have no idea what’s going to come out of his mouth. I keep looking at him.

“Arjun,” he starts. “We, I and Alina, like you very much, and we know Lily likes you, too.”

“Yes,” I say with a puzzled look.

“I don’t want you to get this wrong, but I have some concerns.”

“Concerns?” Now I’m doomed.

“Yes. You see, I am familiar with the Indian customs from what I have learned from my many visits to the great country.”

I keep looking at him with my palms rubbing together. Bertel continues.

“I am concerned whether your parents would consent to you marrying a non-Hindu girl.”

I know Mom has talked with Lily a few times during the video chats, but Dad has not talked with Lily at all.

“I know my mom likes Lily. They have talked several times, and Mom has given her instructions about Indian cooking.”

“What about your dad?”

“My dad is a nice guy.”

“I don’t doubt that. But that’s not the answer I was looking for.”

“Well. If my parents have no objection to us getting married, I will let you know, and will you then give me your permission?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll talk to my parents tonight.”

“Fair enough.”

Lily and Alina walk in as we were talking.

“What are you two talking about? Looks like something serious,” Alina says.

I am hoping Bertel doesn’t mention what we’ve been talking about, and he doesn’t.

“Various things about living in the current world environment,” he says.

“Well. Lunch is ready. Let’s all move to the kitchen.”

I don’t want to call Mom and Dad immediately. I wait until Sunday evening, when it will be an afternoon in the United States.

“What’s going on, Beta? Why are you calling in the middle of the day on a Sunday?” Mom asks.

“Well. Good news. I will be coming home in a week.”

“Daddy, did you hear this?” Mom shouts.

I see Dad on the screen.

“What’s happening?” he asks.

“Arjun is coming home. Oh, I can’t wait for next week to come.” Mom’s voice has a sing-song tone.

“I got the orders two days ago.”

“That’s excellent news, Beta.” It is Dad. “Send us all the details about flights, and we will be there at the airport.”

“I will, Dad. But since both of you are together, I have something important to ask you.”

“We are listening.” Their faces show concern.

“It’s about Lily?” I say.

“What is it, Beta?” Mom says. “You are not in any sort of trouble, are you?”

“No, no, no.”

“Remember, I warned you to be careful.” Mom continues.

“Mom. It’s nothing like that. I want to tell you both that I am thinking of proposing to Lily and want to know your reaction.”

Both mom and dad are silent. They look at each other. I haven’t got a clue what’s going on in their mind. I see Dad getting up from his chair. Mom, too. They approach the screen. Their faces are almost blending into each other.

“We honor your decision, Beta.” Mom is the first one to speak. “I like Lily. I enjoyed talking to her during the recipe exchanges. She seems like a nice young lady.”

“Well. I haven’t spoken to her. I don’t doubt that she’s a nice young lady,” Dad interjects. “I wouldn’t be able to form an opinion until I see her in person.”

“I agree,” Mom concurs. “We can judge better when we get to meet her in person.”

“All right,” I say, taking care not to sound frustrated. “At least you are not rejecting her outright. I will invite Lily to visit us in Fairfax once I am back, and you can get to know her in person.”

“Good. We’ll look forward to meeting her in person.” Dad says.

On the night before I depart from Stuttgart, I suggest to Lily that we have dinner at the cozy restaurant again.

“Why spend your money? I’ll cook you a wonderful dinner,” she says, with a gorgeous smile.

“I’ll go along with that. We will celebrate my last day over a bottle of Cabernet.”

“Now, you’re talking.”

Lily prepares the Biryani and cauliflower curry as I cut the cucumbers to make the Raita, the yogurt-based salad. We sit at a small table, facing each other. Lily places a candle in the center.

“Cheers,” we say as we touch our wine glasses together.

Lily reaches over and kisses me.

“Don’t forget me when you are back home,” she pleads.

“That will never happen. I love you. Remember the song I played, right here in this room?” I say. “And further, I’m inviting you to visit us in Fairfax, Virginia. Can you arrange that?”

“I don’t see any problem with that. I have plenty of vacation coming. I’ll put in a request tomorrow.”

We don’t talk about anything for a while. We are busy eating.

“Arjun,” Lily breaks the silence. “Arjun, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to meet your parents. Your mom is so sweet from what I have seen from our brief encounters. I’m sure your dad is, too.”

“Yes. You’ll like them both.”

I say this, but I’m not sure how Dad will manage to have a non-Indian in the house.