to tell me about the Indian you lived with?”
He nods his head and squints at me. “I figured you already knew. My dad’s Indian.”
“What! Really?”
Then I contemplate before commenting, “Yeah, Seth is an Indian last name, merchants from the north.”
He nods. “Yeah, and my mom’s from Olean, NY. She’s Polish and Irish. They met in college.”
“And your dad’s from?”
“Hindu, from Uttar Pradesh, actually Agra, you know, where the Taj Mahal is.”
“Were you raised Catholic or Hindu?”
He chuckles, then answers, “My mom calls us CEO Catholics, while my dad has an Indian stomach.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ve never heard that before?”
Shaking my head he continues, “CEO, Christmas, Easter Only Catholics. My dad lives like an American, but eats like an Indian. That’s why I know Indian food. My dad likes to cook.”
Totally surprised by an Indian man who actually cooks at home, I have to ask, “Have you been to India?”
“Every few years we’d take an extra week off for Christmas break. I think December is the only time when the weather’s not beastly hot there.”
I stare at him before saying, “Well that blows my mind.”
“Don’t you think I’m a little dark to be a White boy?”
Holding up my much darker arm to his, “Yeah, but way too light to be an Indian, and the light brown eyes and bit of blond in your hair, that’s kind of misleading.”
“My mom’s very fair. She has two colors, white and red. Growing up she was always on me about sunscreen, wearing a hat, and covering up. She was convinced I was going to burn.”
“Did you ever burn?”
He barks out a laugh. “No, not even in New Mexico. I’ve got plenty of melanin to protect me.”
It hits me that I’ve known Colin for two years. I know so many things about him. I know how he gets a satisfied smile when he wins. How he tips his head and swears when he loses. That he’s a good sport, has an even disposition, and treats others with respect. But then again, I know nothing about him. This is the first time we’ve talked about families.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Albuquerque, New Mexico.”
“There’re not a lot of Indians there.”
He chuckles at my comment. “Plenty of Indians in New Mexico, just not East Asian Indians. Most people there are either White or Hispanic. I don’t think either group knew what to make of me.”
“I can relate. Back in Chicago everyone was either White or Black. The Black girls always asked me how I got my hair so nice and straight. They always acted like I wasn’t sharing some secret recipe with them when I told them it naturally grew that way.”
Our beers and appetizers come. All the talk has broken the edge off my nervousness. We’re back to being comfortable around each other though, there is still this simmering sexual heat.
When the check comes I grab my purse as I fish out my wallet.
Colin says, “You know I’ve wanted to ask you out for awhile. But then you were with David, and well, I didn’t want to get hauled into HR for sexual harassment.”
I smile because I’m glad this is a date, responding to his comment with, “You think I’d have said no?”
“I didn’t want to make it weird.”
He reaches over and threads his fingers through mine, causing me to shudder in response. Looking me in the eyes, he says, “If I said this was a date and not just two friends from work going out for dinner would you be cool with it?”
I look at our fingers and smile shyly even though I’m not feeling at all shy. “I think I would be disappointed if tonight was only two friends from work going out for dinner together.”
“If I pay, can I call this a date and you won’t blast me at work?” He says with an earnest look in his eye.
I look at our entwined fingers again. Finally giving him a serious look, I tell him, “I’d like this to be a date, but I’d also like the two of us to be outside of work. I don’t want the two of us to be secret, but I don’t want you and I to be a topic of conversation.”
He nods a couple of times. “Yeah, that’s cool.”
I let him pay; we walk hand and hand to his car. I feel like the world has shifted. For the first time I’m not looking forward to playing games. I would much rather do other things, like find out what it’s