“Nice! So you finally found those jingling things that you have been looking for.” Morgan shouted over a wobbly table right after walking through the door.

“You are almost an hour late. I think I should start charging you for my services. And what jingling things?”

“Oh, these!” Emaan’s eyes moved in the direction of his gaze. “You mean bangles.”

“Nah, you call them choo, choo or something.” Morgan blinked twice and made a hurt face trying to come up with the right word.

“Choo-ariyaan, not choo choo.” She said laughing. “Yeah, I did! I bought all the colors in case Sanjhana changes her mind.” She beamed like a little girl when she brought forward her hand to flaunt her bangles.

“Choo –dee- ya. Choo- dee- ya.” Morgan practiced.

“Just give up already, won’t come out right even if you keep trying for the rest of your life. Can’t say that “aray” sound. It’s too guttural for you.” She stood up and picked her handbag, starting to walk out, Morgan followed.

Outside it was much warmer but not unpleasant. In the bright sunlight the blue in his eyes was opaque and serene, not imposing like it normally was indoors. She noticed, probably for the first time.

He caught her observing him, she looked away. “I’m starving; I hope you buy me a decent meal for all this slave work.”

“Sure! Naan Kebob or Beeryani?” He asked teasingly.

“None.” She grimaced.

“ Hotdish and tater tots.”

“Why, it’s a good practice for you.”

“And you can’t handle too much of spice anyway.” She tried to get even with him.

“You think so?” He raised his eyebrows; his eyes widened and forced their blueness on her. She didn’t respond.

They just kept walking quietly. She wasn’t quite herself that day, something he noticed but was hesitant to bring it up.

“It’s not that far, just a block away. Selena said she won’t be there. I told her that’s okay, because you just need to see the place and meet the tailor for today. He’ll be expecting us.” She tried to fill the silence with words.

When they reached the shop a young Latino girl cordially opened the door for them.

“Is Mr. Campos in? I’m Selena’s friend. I hope she mentioned.” Emaan introduced herself shyly.

“Of course, she did!” He’ll be out here in a minute, and I must say what a lovely couple!”

Oh, thank you! Morgan wrapped his arm around Emaan and pulled her towards him playfully.

She shirked, freeing herself. “We are just friends. I’m just helping him with his wedding suit, thank you.”

Confused, the girl looked from Morgan to Emaan. “Alright, I think I’ll go look for Mr. Campos.” She smiled and left.

“It would have been nice.” He said softly.

“No.” she asserted.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t find mutts cute.

Besides you won’t fit in.”

“Again, that’s what you think.” He insisted.

“Also.” She paused

“Also, what?”

“She got better boobs.” She chortled

“What!” He made shocked face.

“Yeah, I will give her that.” She gave him deadpan nod and they both burst out laughing.

When the euphoria subsided, she went to the window where mannequins were at display, and he turned around to try some shirts. She examined the bridal dress on the mannequin. It was soft tulle gown with guipure lace that runs all the way to the striking illusion back. Mannequin had soft blonde hair and proud, content look which expressed her satisfaction with what she was wearing.

Later, there was a crashing sound and the mannequin was lying face down. The Latino girl came rushing out from the other room. “That’s okay; I’ll get it, not a problem.” Emaan didn’t comment or offer help. The girl fixed the mannequin and went back in.

From the corners of his eyes Morgan had seen Emaan tripping the mannequin.

He turned to her with the quizzical boyish expression. “What was that for?”

Her eyes were fixated on the ground.

“Ainwee.” She said in small, unconfident voice which didn’t sound like hers at all.

“Anyway?”

She didn’t reply but hugged him instead, burying her head into his soon to be wedding shirt.

He felt her grip tightening around his waist, and swallowing a lump cradled the back of her head with his hands.

“What does it mean?” He whispered

“Nothing, nothing at all.” She separated herself from him with a jerk as if waking up from a slumber, still looking away.

“What do you mean it’s nothing? It has to be something?” He implored.

It’s not! She lowered her voice after realizing her tone.

“It’s really not,” she muttered searching her handbag, “a word.”

Finding what she was looking, she paused. “It’s ….it’s Jabberwocky really.”

He stayed quiet and didn’t move, wondering if he should go ahead and try to put his arms around her again.

Not knowing what to say he finally asked. “Hindi?”

“No, Poonjabi.”She pronounced ‘poon’ instead of ‘pun’ to mimic his accent. Putting on her sunglasses, she finally looked up, and managed a smile.

“It means: just like that, for no reason.”

“It’s meaningless, really.”

Not understanding, he nodded.

“I think white shirt looks better on you. I hope Jessica will agree.” She said before letting herself out of the shop.”

He stood there staggered, not knowing what to make of it and realizing that for the rest of his life he’ll keep wondering what it would have sounded like if he had pronounced it right.