I held the line

Tanvi's mother touched my elbow and said "family for the day" and I had to leave the ballroom for four minutes. Not for a phone call, not for a logistics snafu — because a 50-something aunt I'd met ninety minutes prior said something that fit a shape I have been carrying around empty since I moved to this city. I stood in the greenroom with my hand still warm from her sleeve and I ranked it instantly, old habit, and the rank came back ugly: I am not anyone's family for the day. I am the woman in the champagne top who charged them a fee. I am hired family.

Then Ranjit — Aarav's uncle, three whiskies deep — pointed across the room and called me "the DJ girl? someone told me you do baraat sets also?" while I was holding the mic, mid-welcome. My face caught up before my stomach did. The floor dropped and I said the correction out loud and it came out almost gracious. I will think about "almost gracious" for the rest of the month. I want to write him a letter in my head. I want to write you are a small man and your nephew knows it and not send it. ~~I won't send it.~~ I won't send it.

The empty chair at table 14. I saw it. The unlabelled gift bag. The server took it before haldi and I watched him take it. I did nothing because doing something is a confession that I saw.