Reboot Pt. 02

Sumita and Jenna were still for a while, trying to absorb what had just happened.

"Huh," Jenna finally said. "That was ... weird."

Sumita let out a long sigh that might have also been a laugh. "I've known that girl literally her whole life," she said, "and I still never know what's going to come out of her mouth."

"I should probably get going," Jenna said. "Work tomorrow morning and all."

"Stay a while," Sumita replied, moving in close, "at least until dinner."

Jenna opened her mouth to decline, but the words stuck in her throat.

Sumita wrapped her arms around Jenna's waist, looked into her eyes, and added, "Please."

It was less than a demand, more than a request. Jenna hesitated for a moment, feeling guilty about Rose having to do all the weekend cooking by herself, but not guilty enough to say no. "Sure," she said. "I just have to text my sister to tell her I'll be late."

Jenna did just that and then followed Sumita into the living room. She wondered vaguely about what they would do for the next few hours, but Sumita had it covered. Jenna was buried under a small avalanche of Indian cookbooks when she sat down next to Sumita on the couch.

"You said you wanted to learn Indian cooking," Sumita said, "and one day isn't nearly enough. We could try a biryani next time, and..."

"Next time...?" Jenna asked, cutting Sumita off. "Are you inviting me back?"

Sumita got flustered and looked down at her knees. "Yeah, I think so," she said. "Last night was definitely worth doing again."

Jenna leaned in and kissed Sumita on the lips, and they fell into a discussion of what to cook next, which broadened to include childhood memories of food and holidays and lazy summer weekends. Before they knew it, it was five o'clock.

"How about pizza for dinner?" Sumita asked. "I've done enough cooking for a while, and I know you have an early morning."

"Sounds good to me," Jenna said.

"Do you mind if Gita comes along?" Sumita asked. "It's okay if you want it to be just the two of us."

"It's fine," Jenna replied, though she was not at all sure that was true. She found Sumita's daughter intimidating.

Sumita knocked on her daughter's bedroom door, and Gita emerged ready to go. She was never one to turn down free food.

~~~

Jenna followed Sumita to dinner in her own car since she planned to drive straight home afterwards. They went south, skirting the eastern edge of Lake Sammamish, and then across I-90 into Issaquah, where the pizza place was right off the main drag.

It wasn't quite dinnertime when they arrived, so the dining room was almost empty. They were seated at a corner table, with the afternoon sun brightening up the dark wood of the walls and floor. A pretty redhead about Gita's age showed up to take their order - an iced tea and a salad each, and a dinner-sized pizza to split - and then disappeared. Gita sat back in her chair, stretching legs stiff from a weekend of camping and hiking.

"Good trip?" Sumita asked.

"Yeah, mostly," Gita replied, laughing at some memory or other. "Dina and I had all our stuff ready to go, but the guys were pretty disorganized. Rex wound up borrowing Dina's sleeping bag, and we did all the cooking on my stove, since it was the only one that worked."

"Boys," Sumita said, shaking her head.

Jenna snorted.

"I know, right?" Gita said. "It was warm out, so I unzipped my bag out flat and Dina and I shared. If it had been cold, I would have told Rex to go crawl into Sridhar's sleeping bag."

Gita giggled to herself over the scene that would have created. Sumita raised an eyebrow at her daughter.

"What?" Gita asked. "So if two girls share a bed, that's completely fine, but if it's two dudes, even if absolutely nothing happens, they're suddenly the gayest gay guys who ever walked the planet. It's all so stupid. People should just be who they are."

If only it everything were that simple, Jenna thought.

The redheaded waitress appeared with their salads - a basic garden salad for Sumita, Mediterranean with fennel and orange for Jenna and Gita - along with refills for their iced tea. The table got quiet while they ate.

After the salads were down to remnants, Sumita said to Gita, "I'm surprised you can eat anything after you made such a dent in Jenna's leftovers."

Gita shrugged, completely unapologetic. "I was hungry," she said. "We didn't have that much to eat since Sridhar also forgot like half of the food he was supposed to bring."

"It's fine," Jenna said. "I really don't mind."

Gita flashed Jenna a grateful smile. She didn't enjoy being on her mother's bad side, even for something trivial. "You guys must have gone all out," she said. "All the stuff you made was amazing."

Sumita smiled. "Well," she said, "Jenna wanted to learn how to do traditional Indian cooking, so I showed her everything I could fit into one day, starting with the basics."

"You made homemade ghee, didn't you?" Gita asked Jenna. "And paneer too, probably. Mom can get really ... intense sometimes."

"Yup," Jenna replied. "Everything was from scratch."

A memory popped into her head, and her face scrunched up involuntarily. "... except that mango pickle," she added. "That came out of a jar, and it was really sour."

"Yeah," Gita replied with a giggle. "I don't like those either."

Gita picked up her glass of iced tea from the table and took a sip, smiling innocently over the rim. "You know," she said, looking straight at Jenna, "Baa would be shocked..."

Sumita went rigid. Jenna wondered what was going on.

"... you finally learned how to make round chapattis," Gita continued, turning to face her mother. "She's been giving you hard time about them ever since I can remember. Me, too, when I go to visit, but I don't pay any attention." She sucked iced tea through her straw until it gurgled and set her glass down on the table.

"Um," Sumita said, and her mouth kept moving, but nothing else came out.

"I know it's a big deal for her, some sort of Indian ideal of womanhood," Gita said, "but they don't taste any different if they're a little uneven. It's just weird that's what she gets so hung up on."

Sumita took a deep breath. "Your grandmother, both your grandmothers, have some very ... traditional ideas about marriage and motherhood," she said. "They just wanted me to be the best I could be at taking care of you and your father."

"Oh, I know," Gita replied. "I heard all about it on my summer trips. I think I'm going to be a bit of a disappointment in that department. But you've been an absolutely perfect wife and mother. I don't see why they have to criticize you."

"They don't always agree with your assessment," Sumita said drily. "Your aunt Simran was always the perfect one. It was worse when I first got married, but after you turned out okay, I think they both finally decided I wasn't a total disaster."

Gita broke into a big, beaming smile, and Jenna felt like she'd fallen into one of those private family moments, the kind you can't understand if you're not part of it. She was also aware of something under the surface, something dark and threatening that both mother and daughter were aware of but neither would acknowledge. Jenna's presence would eventually upend the quiet truce Sumita had with her family.

Jenna felt like she needed to say something, but she had no idea what that should be. She was saved by the waitress, who came by to collect their salad bowls and drop off the pizza. Gita pulled a slice onto a plate for Jenna, another one for her mother, and then grabbed one for herself and took a bite.

"Yum," she said. "I love those little peppers."

Jenna took a bite of her own, almost burning her mouth. The crust was the perfect balance of crispy and chewy, and the sweetness and vinegar of the peppers cut through the thick, salty mozzarella. After a few seconds, the heat of the peppers kicked in, spreading a pleasantly numbing fire over her tongue. "Mmmm," she sighed.

Sumita and Jenna each had two pieces, and Gita polished off the other half of the pizza. When the waitress suggested dessert, Gita was tempted, but they passed. The dining room was still fairly empty, so they sat a while longer, drinking iced tea and talking. Gita caught her mother up on everything going on with her friends, mostly getting ready for college or already gone; Sumita talked about her coworkers, especially Sarah, who was also one of Jenna's close friends; and Jenna talked a bit about her day job at the catering company she ran with her sister Rose. After a while, the conversation came around to Jenna's art.

"Is everything you do so ... I don't know ... abstract?" Gita asked.

"I do have a certain style," Jenna replied. "I try to push myself, not let myself get stuck in a rut, but yeah, all my paintings do look a lot like the one your mom bought. All the good ones, anyway. I've done some other, more representational stuff, but it's mostly crap."

Gita and Sumita both giggled.

"How do you do it?" Gita asked. "Make the figures work, I mean? It's like, you're just staring at a bunch of random stuff, and then suddenly it's a person, and you can tell exactly what they're feeling."

"Honestly, I don't know," Jenna said. "I just see people a certain way in my head. I try to break them down to their elements, and then reassemble them on the canvas. Not always specific people, necessarily, sometimes just characteristics or archetypes."

"And they're mostly women?" Gita asked.

"Mostly," Jenna said. "I did one based on my nephew Brendan when he was a little kid, and a couple of grown men."

"Mom showed me the one in Sarah's office," Gita said. "Was she real? It seemed like you were totally in love with her."

"Yes, she was real," Jenna said, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "And I did love her, very much."

Sumita took Jenna's hand under the table, and she glared at her daughter.

"Sorry," Gita said, averting her gaze, "I didn't mean to ... you know. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Jenna said, making sure to breathe. "It was a long time ago. I wouldn't put stuff out there if I didn't want people to see it."

Jenna got quiet after that, and it seemed to everyone like it was a good time to leave. Sumita paid the bill, and the three of them walked out to the parking lot together. Gita climbed into her mother's car to give Sumita and Jenna a moment to themselves.

"Thank you," Jenna said. "For the cooking lesson yesterday, and for everything else. I had a really nice weekend."

"Me too," Sumita replied. "You've made me happier than I could have imagined a few months ago."

Jenna didn't know how to respond to that. She tried to get something out, even if it sounded dumb, but Sumita caught her off guard. She leaned in, wrapped her arms around Jenna's neck, and kissed her full on the lips, right there in the parking lot. Jenna reacted automatically, closing her eyes, wrapping her arms around Sumita's waist, and returning the kiss with as much passion as she felt from Sumita.

When they broke apart and Jenna opened her eyes, she had a fleeting glimpse of Gita sitting in Sumita's car with a big grin on her face. It was gone in an instant, and Jenna worried that she might have imagined it.

"Can I call you tomorrow evening?" Sumita asked, and there was no mistaking her smile.

"Um, yeah, sure," Jenna replied, trying to regain her bearings. "I get done pretty early, so whenever you have time is fine."

"Okay," Sumita said, and gave Jenna a peck on the cheek. "Talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay," Jenna replied. "Talk to you tomorrow."

Sumita got into her car and drove off, waving at Jenna on the way out of the parking lot. Jenna walked over to her car, got in, and sat unmoving in the driver's seat while Sumita drove off.

~~~

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Jenna cried, pounding her steering wheel, when Sumita's car was out of sight. "I am completely and totally screwed."

For the past seven years, Jenna had played it safe. She had only dated women like her - tough, short-haired, out-and-proud dykes who'd sooner walk naked through the snow than wear a dress. The relationships were comfortable, predictable, and boring, and that was okay. It was better than all the drama and the tears that inevitably came with falling deeply in love. And the sex was always above average - when you've fully accepted your sexuality, it's easier to lean into it and enjoy it, without all the hang-ups and guilt. Jenna was rapidly approaching forty, and settling down with comfortable, predictable, and boring was starting to look a lot better than ending up alone.

The one exception, three years ago, was Mandy, but she didn't really count. She was a pretty thirtyish dental hygienist who was questioning herself after a bad breakup. Three months later, Mandy finally realized what Jenna had known all along - even though she liked playing around with girls, she really needed a man. Jenna was a bridesmaid when Mandy married a chef named Ibrahim last year.

Sumita, though. Sumita was the opposite of safe. She was the kind to fall in love, deeply and completely, and, even worse, she was the kind to make Jenna fall in love with her, just as deeply and just as completely. Sumita was successful, brilliant, and beautiful, and way out of Jenna's league. There would be tears with Sumita, lots of them. And when it ended, as it inevitably would, it would hurt like hell. It would hurt just as much as the last time Jenna let herself really fall in love.

Everything was just like it was with Tess. The year they were together was the best of her life. The year after they broke up was the worst, even worse than when Jenna turned eighteen and her parents disowned her.

The only question for Jenna was whether to run away now, before Sumita got her tendrils in so deep there would be no escape. And then Jenna realized that it was already too late. Sumita had only been gone five minutes, and Jenna was already thinking about that phone call tomorrow like a kid waiting for Christmas. Jenna knew she would ride the tiger as long as she could, waiting the whole time to be thrown off, knowing that when she was, she'd be torn to ribbons.

"What am I going to do?" she asked herself. She did not have an answer.

She sat up in her seat, shook her head sharply to reorient herself, and turned the key in the ignition. Forty minutes later, she was pulling into her driveway, with no memory of the drive home.

"Well," she told herself with a rueful smile, "at least I didn't crash on the way."

~~~

Jenna lived with her sister Rose and nephew Brendan in a split-level nineteen thirties house in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, a few blocks from the locks on the ship canal.

Fourteen years ago, Rose married a talented, handsome architect named Sean O'Connor, and a little under two years later, they brought a healthy, happy baby boy into the world together. Sean made enough money that Rose didn't need to work, and she wanted nothing more than to take care of her husband and child. Things were great.

After a while, though, things were not so great. They tried for another baby, but after three years of fertility treatments and a miscarriage, they gave up. Sean was a good provider and a good father, but he seemed less and less interested in being a good husband, and when his career took off, he spent more and more time at work. Rose started baking and cooking for friends and neighbors, mostly just to fill the time while Brendan was at school, and after a while it turned into an informal business, providing Rose with some spending money and some independence.

It was no surprise to anyone when, two years ago, they split up. Sean was offered a big promotion - more exciting, innovative work and a lot more money. The catch was that it was in LA. Rose didn't want to move herself and her son to a new city, but she also didn't want to keep Sean from his dream job. They talked it out and realized that Brendan was the only thing keeping them together, so they got a divorce. No cheating, no fights, no drama, no tears; just a long, sad sigh.

Rose and Brendan got the house, free and clear, along with most of the limited savings. Sean got Brendan for a month every summer, plus the occasional holiday, and a fresh start.

When Sean left, Rose's hobby became her lifeline. She plowed a big chunk of her money into a used van and a collection of professional kitchen equipment, and she rented a share of a commercial kitchen to keep everything legal with the health department.

Jenna and Rose had always been close, especially after their parents disowned Jenna when she turned eighteen. It was Rose's wedding that finally got them talking again - Rose wouldn't allow any of them to attend without making peace.

When Sean moved out, Jenna moved in, turning Sean's cramped attic office into her bedroom and claiming a corner of the basement for her painting studio. Much better to use her rent money to support her family than to flush it into the black hole of her increasingly unaffordable dive on Cap Hill.

And then a month ago, Jenna got laid off from her job and Rose's lifeline became hers as well. She joined the catering company, now called Ballard Bites, and knit her life even more tightly into her sister's. So when Jenna got out of her car and walked through the back door into the kitchen, she really was coming home, in a way she hadn't since she was eighteen.

"Hey, sis," Rose called out. She and Brendan were at the kitchen table eating dinner. Lasagna, judging by the wonderful aroma.

"Hey," Jenna replied, and walked around the table to tousle Brendan's strawberry blonde hair. Jenna sat down at the table. "You guys have a good weekend?"

"Yeah," Brendan replied. "Mom and I went to the library this afternoon, and then to the Aquarium and the Market."

"Cool," Jenna said, smiling at her nephew, and then the table got quiet while Rose and Brendan finished eating. Brendan had one week left before school started back up, and Rose was obviously making a big effort to cheer him up. A trip downtown wasn't cheap, though the free Aquarium passes at the library helped a lot.

Brendan stood, cleared the table, and washed the dishes, all without being asked. "I'm going to go read for a while, Mom," he said. TV was limited on school nights, even in the summer, and anyway there wouldn't be anything good on until later.

"Okay," Rose replied. "Have fun."

Brendan disappeared into his room and closed the door. Jenna unloaded the canvas bag she had hauled in from the car, hanging her apron in the pantry and packing half a dozen glass containers of leftover Indian food into the fridge, the remains of the feast she and Sumita had cooked the night before.

"I take it your cooking lesson went well," Rose said, noting all the stuff going into the fridge.

"Yeah," Jenna replied. "It wasn't anything elaborate or weird - mostly just basic stuff from Classic Indian Cooking - but it was all from scratch, and there's something powerful about learning from somebody who grew up in the culture. You get more out of one afternoon than you would from a week of practice on your own."

"I'm glad you learned a lot," Rose said, "but that's not what I was talking about, and you know it."

Jenna sighed. "I know, Rose," she said. "It was ..." She let her voice drift off, not knowing how she wanted to finish that sentence.

"It was ...?" Rose echoed, fixing a stare on Jenna that made it clear she wouldn't let it drop.

"It was amazing, okay," Jenna said. "She's sweet, she's brilliant, and she's gorgeous, and when she got me into bed, forty five years of repressed desire poured out of her. My head's still spinning."

"But ...?" Rose asked.

"But what?" Jenna replied.