I had never met anyone from India before. Rita's accent was British, almost proper like a tape you would listen to in order to mimic someone from the UK.
I never crushed on her or had any sort of kissing type ideas about her. However, I did find her mesmerising. When she spoke I stopped dead in my tracks and gave up any effort towards what I was doing and focused on her words. Her eyes were these huge root beer barrels of brown sparkle and her hair was shiny shiny licorice. When she spoke it felt smart and posture adjusting.
We worked together at Amigo's for about a year. She was my manager during the shifts I worked at the restaurant. It was a Mexican restaurant on the west side of town. I tutored the owner's kids a few times a week too. They were a Greek family whose love of food was only surpassed by their love of arguing at ear splitting decibels. Screaming was their inside voice. (they are another few entries all to themselves.)
Rita stood about 4 feet eleven inches IF she wore the stupid visor required by our superiors.
At night, while washing dishes or mopping the food off of the floor, Rita would tell me stories about the places she had lived. Her family lived in a magical sounding place called Hounslow, just outside of London. She also grew up mostly in India. The colours and exotic stories made my swabbing with grey water fun and a passable task. Rita talked about her families parties and the outfits and dancing. I could tell her family were very close. They ran the motor in just up the highway about 5 minutes from the restaurant. This was in a seedy neighbourhood with most customers being the types who just needed a room for a few hours, if you know what I mean.
Without fail, her father or brother would bring her to work each shift at exactly three minutes until starting. At the end of her scheduled time, they would be waiting in the car as close to the front door as possible to pick her up. Sometimes her brother Hardeep would get out of the Cutlass and bop around on his bright yellow sports Walkman. Her father would just sit in the car, peering at everyone and everything he surveyed.
After a few months, Rita got her license and drove herself sometimes. The wardenless freedom really suited her. As time passed things relaxed and she opened up. Her chattiness became the noise to which our work followed. It was hard to let things like customers and preparing food get in the way of her tales of elephants and monkeys in her old yard back home.
Its safe to say that Rita was a beautiful girl. I did not think of her as such, as I was entangled in my first girlfriend. I looked at her as a smarter older sister with a funny accent.
Rita began taking martial arts lessons. I didn't know until one day she came out of the breakroom in a karategi.
She started blathering on about the classes and how her father wanted her to learn self defense. Her sister had been robbed at the hotel. The robbers tied her up and locked her in a closet. I was surprised that her dad didn't disappear the women altogether back to India.
After some time in the classes, her instructor Steve became a super frequent visitor to Amigo's. He was a really nice guy who reminded me of a cut rate Chuck Norris with his scrappy beard and wispy dirty brown hair.
Rita was glowing and giddy when Steve was around. I could tell she liked him. It was nice to see her acting like a person, not stiff or referencing her strict parents in every sentence.
I found out they were involved when I was emptying the trash after her shift. It had been about two hours after her quitting time but I noticed her car still parked by the building. Before I could go over, Steve backhopped out and I saw him lean in to kiss her. Both of them shot me looks, frozen in the moment.
Given my big mouth and the small pond that was the restaurant, word got around. Rita had a boyfriend!
At some point the next day she explained to me and Bernice, the other girl we worked with what this meant to her.
"My parents would kill me. I am not allowed to have a boyfriend, much less a non Indian. I can never let them know."'
We asked several questions, being newbies to cross culture pollination.
"Can you marry? What if you had kids? Would your Dad try to fight him?
These brought up many other things.
Her parents had promised her to a family back in England. She was to marry when the son was 25. She was also promised to be a virgin. Rita had only seen a picture of this boy she was to marry.
I could not imagine.
My head and heart kind of spun for her.
I could not imagine the scrutiny this twenty two year old had been under her whole life.
She told us of having separate outfits at friends houses in school and basically living a total separate personage from what her parents knew.
The newness of her affair wore off and we resumed our taco factory duties.
Some weeks later out of nowhere, I was in the back mopping the toilets and I heard yelling.
I turned the corner of the dining room to the main entrance to spy Rita's brother and father at the register. Smoke and fire seemed to be billowing out of their mouths and eyes.
I could not make out the words, only the emotions.
"SIR I DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE IS, SIR"
"My daughter was supposed be off four hours ago!"
"SHE'S BEEN OFF FOR TWO DAYS! TAKE IT UP WITH HER!!!"
Uh-oh. This did not seem good for Rita or Steve.
The men eventually left after much peering and interrogating of everyone in the place.
I told them I knew nothing and no I did not know if she had any other friends.
The next day, I walked in, ready to start work. There was a pile of shirts and hats on the table by the schedule board. I'd never seen a sadder stack of t-shirts.
Rita's brother had dropped off her stuff and quit for her.
A day or two later, Steve appeared at the restaurant. He was a mess. The poor guy was crying and moaning in agony. Through tears and stiff silent loathing, he told us what happened.
They were madly in love and had been planning to run away.
I kinda swooned at the romance of the notion.
Apparently her parents found a letter from Rita to Steve which laid out the subterfuge. Leading up to the men appearing at Amigo"s, they had spent the previous day/night together and had been making up a schedule of fake work days. Their happy times led to errors.
Upon storming into his dojo, Steve told us the brother and father threatened to kill him and her if he tried to interfere. His calls to Rita went unreturned. Then, according to Steve, the whole family left town and were gone.
After Steve left, I called the number to the hotel. The number was out of service.
Rita was gone and so was her family. I can only imagine what she had been through.
I have always hoped she found some way to happiness. I like to think she did anyway.
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