Wrong Side Of The Bed

17 | it's in the job description!

JANNAT'S P.O.V

      I WAS SO DAMN SICK OF MY ALLERGIES. How was a girl supposed to go out wearing her new Burberry bucket hat if her nose was relentlessly runny? How was she supposed to go buy some new scarves for fall if she only kept sneezing?

"I am going to cut off my nose if this runny nose thing continues," I remarked, and Baba let out a little laugh, stirring the steaming tea in my cup slowly. After pouring a drop of the tea on his palm and tasting it to check if it was of proper temperature, Baba passed on the cup of tea and saucer towards me.

"Drink."

"I hate ginger."

"Drink or I won't give you my credit card."

That shut me up, and I took a slow, agonizing sip of my tea. The sweet, rich flavour of the milk tea unfurled itself in my mouth, and so did the disgusting taste of ginger. I stuck my tongue out, grimacing.

"Watching you consume ginger is very comedic," Dad exclaimed from the doorway, his mouth curved into a smile. He walked in, stopping only at the foot of my bed as he gave me a warm grin. "Are you feeling any better?"

"No, my nose is so clogged and red and I have to breathe through my mouth," I said in a nasal tone. Frowning at my own voice, I continued. "See? I feel like a chipmunk."

"You are a chipmunk," Dad corrected.

"That technically makes you a chipmunk too, because you're my father."

"Well, I make a gorgeous chipmunk," Dad said. "You, on the other hand.."

"Not you too!" Baba exclaimed, slapping Dad fondly on the arm and we all laughed, and then I coughed. Ugh. I hate this bloody season.

"Your boyfriend called you, by the way," Dad murmured, tossing me my phone which I had forgotten at the kitchen island. "He says he is coming over."

"Boyfriend?" Baba resonated. "Shona? What? Who is it? When did it happen?"

I let out a nervous laugh. "Dad is just kidding!" I jumped to defense, even though my nasal voice sounded even higher in my defensive mode. "You know him, Baba. Always joking. Sobsomay."

"Sobsomay moja koro tumi!" Baba said in Bengali, laughing at Dad. Even though Dad couldn't speak Bengali, after living in a household where Baba and I would often converse rapidly in Bengali, he had learnt how to understand it. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"I didn't mean to, my love," Dad beamed at Baba in that gross, loving way, and when Dad looked at me over Baba's shoulders, I pretended to gag. He shook his head subtly. "I was only joking. You know Jannat, our little angel. Her friends, Estelle & Adrienne had called."

"Yes, that she is," Baba looked at me fondly, patting my head. I gulped down the rest of the tea in one breath, even though it was still pretty hot and scalded my tongue, but I was used to it. I beamed back at him.

"Now that the absolutely disgusting ginger tea is finished, can I please drink some actually good milk tea with three sugar cubes and without weird things like ginger? Please, please, please," I smiled wide at him. "Can you please make it Baba? The chef doesn't make it as well as you do."

Cecily, our dear maid, grabbed the cup and saucer from the bedside table before Baba could. She gave me a reassuring smile. "Get well soon, Miss Jannat. The house seems dull with you in bed, sick."

"Cecily, you have known me for eight years. You don't need to call me miss."

She simply smiled in response.