A Few Hundred Poppies

11. Champagne Under the Stars

"So, this is a fancy wedding," West remarked, his eyes on the champagne fountain in a corner. It wasn't something you typically see at a Bangladeshi wedding, only Bengali elitists and drunkards drink in public. Bapi had remarked that it was a method of giving oneself delusions of Western (well, and Christian) grandeur.

We were following the gang of cousins back to the centre of the room as the bride and groom sat on a royal blue sofa on the stage, posing for photos. Just a while ago, they'd exchanged their vows and wedding rings.

"Yeah. It's pretty much the fanciest I've ever been to," I replied, smiling at the kid who'd just toppled over a mound of sweets and was looking around to see if anybody had noticed.

"Adi!" I halted at Bapi's voice. West paused as well. Bapi briskly walked over to us, staring curiously at West.

"Er- Bapi, this is West, he's the groom's family friend, and my classmate at EA," I explained, low-key impressed by my own proficiency at lying.

"Assalamu Alaikum, uncle," West greeted Bapi, a courteous smile on his lips. Surprised at the Islamic greeting, I gaped at him.

"Walaikumas Salam," Bapi replied, his shoulders relaxing. He turned to me. "Your mother called to ask when we'll be home, what should I tell her?" I looked over Bapi's shoulder at Luthfar Uncle, Khammi's husband, who slid his index across his throat to make a point.

I laughed lightly, gesturing at the businessman. "I think Luthfar Uncle wants us to stay a little longer."

Grinning, Bapi shook his head. "He'll never grow up."

As Bapi trudged back to the middle-aged uncles, Luthfar Uncle smiled gratefully at me. I turned to face West. "Okay, what the actual fuck? You're Muslim too? But your name is so horribly Christian!"

West rolled his eyes indignantly. "Like I said before, there's a lot of things you don't know about me."

Let me tell you something, I didn't like the sensation of feeling stupid, at all. "And I'm just an open book for you to read, right?" Casting him a cool glance, I stepped towards the cousins.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't what I'd meant," West called after me. The hint of remorse in his voice made me look back to him. He was staring at the floor absentmindedly, chewing on his lip.

"Dude, I literally don't know anything about you. And you pinky promised that you'd tell me, don't think that I forgot," I accused, keeping my voice low as he walked closer to me.

"Alright...let's talk. But," he eyed the champagne fountain mischievously. "Let's lose our virginities first."

"What, now?"

"I meant, our drinking virginities," he corrected, biting his tongue and scratching the back of his neck.

Shaking my head, I chuckled. "How do you assume that I've never been drunk?"

"It's guessable." When I looked at him dubiously, West rolled his eyes. "Okay fine, Ever told me."

"It's probably not a smart thing to do, isn't it haram?" I hesitated, shifting my weight from one foot to the other and fiddling with the trim of my dupatta.

"Oh come on, let's just have a sip each? I'm pretty sure it's allowed the first time."

And that's how I ended up being the guard as West sneaked two tall, elegant glasses from the table and dipped them in the fountain, filling each to half. I tried to cover for him as he slipped out through the glass doors, awkwardly but successfully.