Archive of Our Own ^beta

Naveen was so going to owe her for this. Big-time. There wasn’t much that Arundhati liked to do less than stand in line, outside, in February. She’d be lucky if it got to five degrees today, and with the grey skies, the sun didn’t seem likely to make it seem any warmer.

She’d brought Naveen some take-out to keep him warm while he waited to get into some artist thing that Jay had wanted to see. Since Jay was out taking school pictures in Toronto this week, Naveen was going to check it out for him and report back. But just after Arundhati had appeared, his hospital pager had gone off, and he’d begged her to hold his place.

The things you do for love.

So Arundhati was there, bored out of her mind, waiting for the artist thing to open—she could practically hear her brother-in-law explaining the importance of a gallery opening, very enthusiastically, like an overgrown golden retriever—when rumours started to fly down the line that the raffle prize (gallery openings included raffles, who knew) would be an NTR autograph.

Arundhati could think of nothing Jay would love more for his birthday. She barely had enough cash for groceries since the divorce.

The things you do for love. Naveen was going to owe her the biggest favor of their lives if she could win it. He was going to owe her infinite favors for the rest of their lives, actually.

The line shuffled forward, and eventually Arundhati was face-to-face with the raffle booth. Face-to-face with a giant photograph of Nandamuri Taraka Rama Rao himself, autographed as advertised. She bought five tickets, saved the receipt for Naveen to pay her back, and sent up a quick, private prayer very nicely to Ganesh to please do this one thing for her.

Naveen joined her in the gallery in just the nick of time. Apparently, he’d been called in because the primary resident had gotten sick, but once the shift change rolled around he was free again. Arundhati didn’t tell him about the raffle tickets, just yet. It could wait, she thought. He was looking around the gallery with such wide eyes, like he was a kid again. It was something that he hadn’t done until he met Jay. She didn’t want to spoil it with money talk just yet; money talk would happen later anyway, sooner than she’d like.

She listened to her little brother talk about color and mediums and symbolism, not following but not caring to follow. Mostly, she watched that light in his eyes, and tried to make him laugh, and marveled at the way his entire being seemed to brighten up when he mentioned things he’d talked about with Jay, or seen with Jay, or learned from Jay. They’d been married for eighteen months, and they were still sickly sweet in love. Arundhati was so happy for them, and so jealous of them, that she felt like her heart might burst. The jealousy nearly disappeared at times like this, though. She and Naveen had barely spoken for years, consumed in their own insecurities, her trying to make her doomed marriage into something she could live with and him sliding into isolation. The last two years, they were closer than they’d been even as children, becoming friends over shared dinners and movie dates and days like today, just hanging out and learning about the people they’d become.

She hardly noticed time passing, walking around the gallery with Naveen, but it did pass anyway, and at the appointed time, the crowd in the gallery was hushed for thanks and speeches and, finally, the drawing of the raffle winner. Arundhati fished around in her purse for the tickets, pulling them out and shoving them at Naveen.

“What are—Arundhati!” he whispered, loudly.

“Look at the numbers!” Arundhati hissed.

“And again,” the older woman said, with her mouth too close to the microphone, “the winner of the NTR autographed photo is Number Six-Eight-Nine-One-Four. Does anyone have Number Six-Eight-Nine-One-Four?”

Naveen clutched one of the tickets in his hand. “I have it,” he said at a normal speaking volume. “Arundhati, I have it.”

“Go up there, dummy!” she said, giving him a solid push.

She watched as Naveen claimed NTR, looking dazed. When he came back, she said, as dryly as she could manage, “That’ll be $200. Happy anniversary.”

“Jay’s going to love this,” he told her.

“I know,” she told him, and decided she had enough of him looking grateful, and changed the subject. “So, dinner’s on you. What are we eating?”

Naveen seemed surprised, but adapted. “Well, there’s a new place in Mount Pleasant….”

Fin.