sorts, a commitment of allegiance in a way. They would be in it together and would form their own relationship, not of culture, not of direction, not against memories, but of love. He entered her gently, making love to her easily. Gina welcomed his body into hers, giving him all that she had, all that she had withheld before. Passion and oneness drove them as they lofted to climax together. But, this time it was different, more sensual, more desiring, more certain, more them. When she cuddled up to his back afterwards, he pulled her hand around him and squeezed it tightly. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” she answered. It was a good and restful sleep for both of them. The commitment had been made; the pact was formed. Little did they know how important that pact would become.
***
The next morning as Shane was leaving, they embraced, both sensing the difference from such typical mornings of their past. “I’ll call you,” she whispered as he kissed her forehead. Shane accepted this, understanding that she was telling him to let her manage them in her own way.
“I’ll be waiting,” he answered.
Two days later, when his phone finally rang on Saturday afternoon, his heart leapt for joy when he saw “Unknown Caller” appear on its panel. “Hey, Sweetie,” he cheerily said into the phone.
A pause, then a deep voice with a heavy Indian accent. “Mr. Ryden?”
“Ah, yes, this is Shane Ryden.”
“Mr. Ryden, this is Mr. Singh. Amlan Singh, Gina’s father.”
“Oh, yes sir. How are you?” Shane tried to hide the shock at this much unexpected call while bracing himself for a confrontation with this overbearing man.
“Gina gave me your number. She is here visiting us. I asked her for it.” Short, chopped sentences bespoke the harshness he could deliver. A flashback to the dinner flitted across Shane’s mind.
“That’s fine, Mr. Singh,” Shane said, trying hard to sound casual despite his apprehension.
“I wanted to explain some things to you firsthand. Do you have a moment to listen?”
“Yes sir, I certainly do,” Shane offered, noting that he didn’t say “to discuss some things.” Shane steeled himself for whatever might come from the father of the woman he loved and intended to make her a part of his life - a permanent part.
“First, Mr. Ryden,” he began. “I want you to understand the customs and culture of my homeland, India. Do you know much about our culture or even about India, Mr. Ryden?”
“Ah, not really, Sir. No, I don’t,” Shane hesitantly admitted.
“That’s the problem with Western men,” Mr. Singh began. “They want to date our daughters and get all involved with these beautiful women, but they don’t want to take the time to learn about them, about their beliefs, their families, all those things that should matter. Always thinking you're superior, you Americans. And, in time, you treat our daughters as if you are supreme. I’ve seen too much. I don’t want my Gina to be a victim. I’m sure you can understand my position.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Singh,” Shane interrupted. “I’m sorry, but I, in absolutely no way, feel supreme or better than Gina. Let’s get that straight in the beginning. As for knowing something about Indian culture, I have just never been exposed to it. I’ve never had a reason to learn about it, but I do now. Still, that doesn’t mean I don’t respect it, and it certainly doesn’t mean I don’t respect Gina in every way possible. I love her, Sir; I love her deeply. Let’s start from that perspective, not from your assumption that I’m a typical Westerner, as you call us. Don’t assume that I would ever treat her less than my equal! I’m not that kind of person, and I’m certainly not that kind of man. I don’t know how you can judge me; you don’t even know me. In fact, you act as if you don’t want to know me.” He felt good about the firmness in his voice.
“How old are you?” the father suddenly
“I love you too,” she answered. It was a good and restful sleep for both of them. The commitment had been made; the pact was formed. Little did they know how important that pact would become.
***
The next morning as Shane was leaving, they embraced, both sensing the difference from such typical mornings of their past. “I’ll call you,” she whispered as he kissed her forehead. Shane accepted this, understanding that she was telling him to let her manage them in her own way.
“I’ll be waiting,” he answered.
Two days later, when his phone finally rang on Saturday afternoon, his heart leapt for joy when he saw “Unknown Caller” appear on its panel. “Hey, Sweetie,” he cheerily said into the phone.
A pause, then a deep voice with a heavy Indian accent. “Mr. Ryden?”
“Ah, yes, this is Shane Ryden.”
“Mr. Ryden, this is Mr. Singh. Amlan Singh, Gina’s father.”
“Oh, yes sir. How are you?” Shane tried to hide the shock at this much unexpected call while bracing himself for a confrontation with this overbearing man.
“Gina gave me your number. She is here visiting us. I asked her for it.” Short, chopped sentences bespoke the harshness he could deliver. A flashback to the dinner flitted across Shane’s mind.
“That’s fine, Mr. Singh,” Shane said, trying hard to sound casual despite his apprehension.
“I wanted to explain some things to you firsthand. Do you have a moment to listen?”
“Yes sir, I certainly do,” Shane offered, noting that he didn’t say “to discuss some things.” Shane steeled himself for whatever might come from the father of the woman he loved and intended to make her a part of his life - a permanent part.
“First, Mr. Ryden,” he began. “I want you to understand the customs and culture of my homeland, India. Do you know much about our culture or even about India, Mr. Ryden?”
“Ah, not really, Sir. No, I don’t,” Shane hesitantly admitted.
“That’s the problem with Western men,” Mr. Singh began. “They want to date our daughters and get all involved with these beautiful women, but they don’t want to take the time to learn about them, about their beliefs, their families, all those things that should matter. Always thinking you're superior, you Americans. And, in time, you treat our daughters as if you are supreme. I’ve seen too much. I don’t want my Gina to be a victim. I’m sure you can understand my position.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Singh,” Shane interrupted. “I’m sorry, but I, in absolutely no way, feel supreme or better than Gina. Let’s get that straight in the beginning. As for knowing something about Indian culture, I have just never been exposed to it. I’ve never had a reason to learn about it, but I do now. Still, that doesn’t mean I don’t respect it, and it certainly doesn’t mean I don’t respect Gina in every way possible. I love her, Sir; I love her deeply. Let’s start from that perspective, not from your assumption that I’m a typical Westerner, as you call us. Don’t assume that I would ever treat her less than my equal! I’m not that kind of person, and I’m certainly not that kind of man. I don’t know how you can judge me; you don’t even know me. In fact, you act as if you don’t want to know me.” He felt good about the firmness in his voice.
“How old are you?” the father suddenly
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