“What could be worse than a picture of your penis?” asked Avery.
“Hey!” said Vish, feigning outrage.
Avery raised her hands in apology.
“I was referring to the nature of the content, not the quality.”
“We’re sure your penis is perfect, Noodle,” said Chiti.
She looked at Avery and her eyes were dancing with amusement.
“Woman!” cried Vish. “You’re my sister! Stop!”
“So what was it?” Avery asked, laughing. “It can’t be that bad.”
“I said…Happy Thursday.” He pushed his face back into the crook of his arm. “The banality! I’ll never hear from her again.”
Chiti rolled her eyes and rubbed Vish’s back. This week, her long nails were painted a rhubarb pink.
“It’s all right,” she murmured. “You’ll get another chance. Tomorrow is a new day.”
“Exactly.” Avery grinned. “You can text her TGIF.”
As Vish moaned with despair, Avery turned to pull her buzzing phone from her briefcase.
“Everything okay?” asked Chiti, catching her frown.
“It’s from my sister.”
“The hot one or the scary one?” asked Vish, visibly perking up.
Chiti swatted at the back of his head.
“Don’t be reductive,” she said. “You know their names.”
“Bonnie Blue could snap me in half like a twiglet,” said Vish. “I’m saying scary with the utmost respect.”
“The hot one and the scary one,” repeated Avery. And the dead one, she thought. “What does that make me? The boring one.”
“Stable, darling,” said Chiti cheerily. “There’s a difference.”
But Avery was not stable, not really. She was unraveling. It was just that no one knew it yet—not even, really, her.
“You’re also the gay one,” said Vish generously. “If we’re going purely by generalities.”
Chiti grabbed the back of his head and shook it.
“What has gotten into you?” she tutted.
Avery raised an eyebrow.
“Who says my sisters aren’t gay too?”
“You’re just saying that because you’re with this one,” said Vish, wrapping his arm around his sister’s waist. “Who thinks everyone’s gay.”
“That’s because they are,” Chiti said. “A little at least.”
“Yeah, yeah, Kinsey scale shminzie shmale,” he said. “I’m just saying, whatever part of me wants something put in my butt must be buried pretty deep, because I’m certainly not aware of it.”
“Much like your prostate!” said Chiti brightly.
“Anyway, the answer to your question is Lucky,” said Avery. “She wants to come stay.”
“That’s fantastic!” exclaimed Chiti. “You’re always saying she should come. She’s so close, after all.”
Avery shook her head.
“Something’s not right.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She wants to come soon. Like, tomorrow. Something must have happened in Paris.”
“Or maybe she just heard about our fabulous guest room, which I have finally gotten around to painting?”
Chiti had been redoing the house a room at a time, each with its own color theme. She understood color like a language, one in which she was fluent, and Avery was still trying to catch the odd word. For instance, she’d told Avery, in Jaipur where her grandparents lived, there were fifty variations of blue and turquoise, each with its own name. Avery, by contrast, struggled to think of one. Chiti had chosen emerald for the walls of the guest room and covered the bed with linen sheets the color of rose quartz for contrast, transforming what had once been a rather poky office into a precious jewel box of a room. Avery felt that it was an apt analogy for Chiti’s effect on her own life.
“And why haven’t I been invited to stay in this fabulous guest room?” asked Vish.
