Chapter 10
Meghna was sure that every profession had its challenges, but at the moment she couldn’t imagine anything harder than teaching middle schoolers to sing in a Cockney accent. Especially when some of her students had a deep Texan drawl. A pang of affection shot through her as seventh grader Blake M. screwed up his face in concentration as he sang “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly” with the rest of the class. They were all trying so hard.
She sat back in her chair. Even if they didn’t nail the accent, the performance would turn out okay. They knew their lines. They knew the songs. The costumes were almost done. And their Eliza Doolittle happened to be an eighth-grade prodigy who would be attending a special performing arts high school next year. Things would be fine. Meghna closed her eyes and listened to the girl as she sang about how “loverly” it would be to have someone’s head resting on her knee. Someone who was warm and tender. And took good care of her.
Meghna thought back to the conversation she’d had with Karthik two weeks ago in Miami. Something about being in the dark and not being able to see his face had made her more vulnerable than she normally would have been. She was a little embarrassed by how much she had shared, and even more embarrassed by what had happened afterward. But she wasn’t ashamed of what she wanted. Wasn’t ashamed of wanting to get married. Of wanting a partner. She just hadn’t planned on laying it all out for him like that.
But maybe it had been a good thing. It had reminded her that they wanted different things. That they would never be compatible. That this was just a pretend engagement, and it couldn’t be anything more.
Her phone pinged with an incoming text message.
Meghna grimaced. She’d looked at the lyrics. She wasn’t sure if she was unable to be objective about his love song for another woman or if the song was really as horrible as she thought it was. The lyrics struck her as … trite, filled with clichés and over-the-top language about how Seth would love Julie until the stars fell from the sky. Blech. Still, she needed to send him something in response.
She put her phone away and wrapped up rehearsal, reminding the students that their first and only performance was only a week away. She waited as the parents picked them up and chatted with the ones she knew. They were all excited about the performance, and their comments helped dampen some of the nerves she felt about it being so soon.
After her last student left, she got in her car and made the short drive over to her parents’ house. She normally had dinner with her parents once a week, but she hadn’t been by in a while. She had told them she was busy with rehearsals and her recent travels, but really, she was avoiding them because she felt guilty about lying to them.
She had told herself that the fake engagement was harmless. That it wouldn’t go too far. But she worried that her parents were becoming a bit too invested in her fake relationship. Her mother kept sending her names of wedding planners and emailing different websites for possible venues. Her father was less forceful, but had mentioned on more than one occasion that he found it odd that he hadn’t met Karthik’s dad yet. He felt it was important for the families to get along, and he wanted to know when they could hold a formal engagement party.
Meghna pulled up to the driveway and went to the back door, stepping into the warmth of the kitchen. Her father stood at the stovetop, stirring a pot of dal. The fragrant scent washed over her. Cumin and ghee and home.
“Meghna,” her father exclaimed. “We weren’t expecting you tonight. What a surprise!” He turned down the flame and swept her up in a hug.
“A good surprise, I hope.”
“Always.” A large smile grew on his face. “Radhika, guess who’s here?”
“Well, it’s about time,” her mother said, her voice carrying from the other room before she even entered the kitchen. “You owe me twenty dollars, Akshay.”
Meghna’s gaze snapped back to her father. “You made bets on me!”
He winked. “I thought you’d be busy until the play was over, but your mother guessed you’d stop by this week.”
“And as usual, I was right,” her mother said, walking into the room with a triumphant look on her face. She hugged Meghna, then stepped back. “You shouldn’t stay away this long, beta. Your father misses you too much.”
Her father let out a booming laugh. “We both missed you.”
“Of course,” her mother said, turning to face him. “Now, pay up, jaan.”
He mock-grumbled as he fished out his wallet, but her father was clearly amused at the glee on his wife’s face. Her mother was the most competitive person she knew, and Meghna’s father was her perfect match. He was always willing to put up a good fight, but he lost with grace, sometimes even boasting about the way his wife had outsmarted him.
Meghna smiled as they bickered, but something heavy and hard grew in her chest. Some of that must have shown through her cheery expression because her father frowned in her direction.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, perceptive as always. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she said lightly. She reached up into the cabinet and pulled out three bowls for their dal chawal.
Her mother gave her an assessing look. “It’s not nothing.” She took the bowls from Meghna’s hands and started filling them up with rice. “That’s the same face you made when you changed your major and didn’t tell us.”
Meghna went still. She hadn’t needed that reminder. Hadn’t needed to remember how difficult it had been to explain that she had applied and been accepted to her dream university as an education major and not as an engineering major like they had discussed. Like Samir had been, making her parents proud beyond belief. But her mother continued, blithely unaware that her words had poked at something raw and sensitive.
“Is there anything you need to let us know?” her mother asked.
Meghna’s heart pounded. There was, but she couldn’t tell them like this. Couldn’t tell them that the engagement they were so excited about was a fraud. That she had tricked them. Lied to them. Just like she had before. Just like Ankita and Samir had done to her. She swallowed.
They would be so disappointed. She had finally done something that seemed to make them happy. If they knew the truth, they’d know that she had failed to live up to their expectations yet again.
“Jaan,” her father said gently. “I’m sure it’s nothing like that. Meghna, you’re probably just nervous about the play next week, right?”
She nodded, thankful for the out her father had so conveniently provided. “Yes, that’s it. I can’t believe it’s so soon.”
Her father poured a generous amount of hot dal over each bowl of rice, and they carried their food to the kitchen table. After they sat down and began eating, Meghna distracted her parents with story after story from this week’s rehearsals. They laughed with her about the various antics her students had gotten up to and didn’t ask any further questions about her earlier discomfort. Meghna was thankful for the reprieve, but her guilt lingered, bubbling beneath the surface.
Still, it wasn’t like her fake engagement would hurt them. Or anyone. It wasn’t anything like what Ankita and Samir had done. In fact, telling her parents the truth would likely hurt them more. And that pain was unnecessary. The engagement would come to an end after the wedding, and everything would go back to the way it had been before.
She ate a forkful of the warm, comforting meal in front of her, slightly reassured. There was no need to tell her parents about any of it. She just had to keep putting off their wedding planning efforts until she and Karthik were ready to call things off. That wouldn’t be too difficult. She ate another forkful and smiled. She was feeling better and better with each passing minute.
Karthik had never felt this confident in his entire life. He’d studied the numbers backward and forward. He could recite facts about any project the HVAC team had worked on in the last five years. And it didn’t hurt that Marianne had privately shared the recommendation she had written for him, and it had been full of glowing praise.
Today’s interview couldn’t have come at a better time. He’d been out of sorts ever since that trip to Miami. He couldn’t get Meghna out of his head. The way she’d felt that morning, her body splayed on top of his. The taste of her lips. That wide smile that always sent an electric shock coursing through his body.
Preparing for the interview had been a welcome distraction. He just needed to focus. Get the job, go to the wedding, and then it would all be over. No more obligation to his mother. No more strange pull toward Meghna. Everything in his life would return to normal.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Paul asked, his head peeking around the corner.
“Sure, come in.” Paul had just been in his office to drop off lunch, and Karthik was confused that the intern would be back again so soon. He did a quick sweep of the room. “Did you forget something in here?”
“No,” Paul said, sitting in his usual chair across from Karthik’s desk. “I actually had to ask you something.”
“Okay. Sure. What’s going on?”
Paul looked at him for a few seconds and then heaved a big sigh. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Dr. Murthy, would you?” He asked the question so quickly that the words blended together. “I know there’s probably a ton of Dr. Murthys out there,” he continued. “But he’s a professor at NYCU medical school? And you know that’s where I’m an undergrad and …”
Of course. Paul was probably applying to medical school, and he wanted to be introduced to Karthik’s esteemed and highly regarded father. Karthik was about to tell Paul that he and his father weren’t close and that his dad was unlikely to do him any favors, but Paul kept going.
“I wouldn’t just assume you were related to him because you have the same name, you know? But my girlfriend’s premed and she was telling me about him and showed me his faculty page and it’s just … You look a lot like him, so I thought I’d ask.”
So, it was the girlfriend who wanted the introduction. Karthik shook his head. If anything, that would only make his dad less inclined to help.
“Yes, we’re related,” he said. “He’s my father.”
Paul paled. “Shit. Oh, okay. So, umm … Are you doing okay? With everything?”
Karthik’s eyebrows knit together. “With what?”
Paul’s eyes went wide. “There was an article about your dad in our campus newspaper and I just thought … You haven’t seen it?”
Karthik shook his head. His father’s research often resulted in articles and press releases. Karthik never looked at any of them.
“Well, uh, my girlfriend has this mentor and they’re really close. She’s a student at the med school. And she had been telling us about this professor.” Paul shifted in his chair. “Maybe it’s easier if you read the article.”
Karthik pulled up a search engine on his computer, but waved at Paul to continue.
“Just tell me.”
“He’s being sued.”
What?“Who’s suing him?”
“A group of students. Including my girlfriend’s mentor. The, um … article explains it, but they’re suing him for discrimination and some other things.”
Karthik found the article and couldn’t believe the headline: AWARD-WINNING NYCU MEDICAL PROFESSOR ACCUSED OF DISCRIMINATION, HARASSMENT, AND UNPROFESSIONAL CONDUCT. He scanned the first paragraph, read it again, then leaned back in his chair.
Nine students, all women, had filed internal complaints about his father with the university. After a yearlong investigation, the university had sided with his father, and now the students were suing the school for failing to properly investigate and respond to their complaints.
Karthik continued skimming the article. There were allegations of sexist behavior, derogatory comments about women, preferential treatment for male students, and borderline sexual harassment. Karthik’s stomach turned as he read one student’s complaint that his father had rubbed her knee during office hours and commented on the length of her dress. Others complained that his father made frequent comments in class that women made excellent physicians … until they got married or had children. Numerous women said they had applied for research positions with his lab, but his father hired only male students.
Karthik closed his eyes. His father had always treated his mother badly. Karthik had even suspected at times that his father might have been cheating on her, but he’d never imagined anything like this.
“I’m sorry, man. I had no idea he was your dad. My girlfriend had actually mentioned him a bunch before. Her mentor was always complaining about him. She said it was kind of an open secret among the med students and they all talked about it, but I didn’t think anything of it until I saw his picture and …”
Paul’s voice faded to a dull buzz as Karthik’s thoughts turned inward. He didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy for his father. Only a perverse sort of joy that his father’s true nature had been exposed. That his precious career and reputation would be forever marred by his actions. But what was his mother going to do?
A wave of nausea rolled through Karthik’s body. She would be devastated. The community was small, and word would get around soon. They would ostracize his father and whisper about him behind his back. His father deserved their scorn, but the gossip would extend to his mother too. It was utterly unfair. Over the years, she’d endured his father’s neglect, his harsh words and taunts, and somehow, she had borne it all with dignity, even managing to spare Karthik from as much of it as possible. And now she would be subjected to ridicule. Karthik thought he might actually be sick.
“Hey. Karthik. Are you okay?” Karthik opened his eyes. Paul’s face was lined with worry. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just thought that it was too much of a coincidence and … Dude, you do not look good. Can I get you some water?”
Karthik swallowed. “No, I’m fine. I’m okay.” He closed out of the article on his computer. The time in the corner of his screen spiked his body with adrenaline. He had only five minutes until his interview.
He stood up quickly, but swayed for a second, the ground suddenly seeming uneven.
“Hold on,” Paul said, jumping up and grabbing his arm. “You should sit back down. I’ll run and get some water ….”
“No,” Karthik said. “I have to go. I’m late for something. Let me just …” Karthik tasted bile in his mouth and made a beeline to the restroom. He reached it just in time and promptly threw up. Afterward, he rinsed his mouth out with water, staring at his sweaty complexion in the mirror. He’d deal with all of this later. He grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at his face. Right now, he had an interview. He was probably only a few minutes late. He could still do this.
He walked deliberately out of the restroom to the elevator, breathing calmly and reciting in his head all the facts and figures he had studied so carefully. Somehow, he managed to get off on the right floor and entered the conference room, where the panel of interviewers was already seated.
“I’m sorry,” Karthik said, taking the open seat in front of the panel. “I know I’m running a little behind. I promise that’s not how I usually operate.”
Several of the interviewers smiled, and Jim Gray, the COO and Marianne’s former boss, chuckled. “We know that about you,” he said. “Marianne once said you were the most punctual person at the company.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Karthik said.
“Well, I trust her judgment. That’s why you’re sitting in front of us today.”
“And I’m glad to be here.” The air was so stuffy. And humid. They needed to fix the AC. Or open a window.
“We’ve all reviewed your résumé,” Jim said. “And we know all the great work you’ve done here, but tell me this. Why would a born-and-raised New Yorker go out of the city for college?” Jim said the words with a smile and was clearly joking. Karthik’s pulse returned to normal. He was about to offer a lighthearted comment in return when Jim continued.
“Don’t worry. I know how it is,” he said in a teasing voice. “My daughter’s about to go to college and all she talks about is getting away from home. Her mother and I keep hoping she’ll change her mind and follow in our footsteps instead. We both went to NYCU. But I doubt we’ll be able to convince her. She has her heart set on the West Coast …”
Karthik’s stomach dropped. Just hearing the name of his father’s university brought up everything he had been working so hard to put out of his mind. His nausea returned. His hands were somehow both dry and clammy. But none of the panelists seemed to notice his discomfort.
“Anyway,” Jim said. “We’ve all read Marianne’s recommendation, we think your work is phenomenal, and we really just wanted to meet and hear from you today. So, what makes you interested in this position?”
“I … I was very fortunate to work under Marianne. I learned a lot from her.” Karthik swallowed. “I’ve led a number of teams during my time here and I’m ready to assume greater responsibility. I’m confident I can do the job.”
“That’s great.” Jim smiled warmly. “Truthfully, we all agree. We think you’re more than qualified for the position. But why do you want the job?”
Why did he want the job? Hadn’t Meghna asked him a similar question once? He closed his eyes and tried to remember what he’d said. Something about how this promotion was what he had been working for. How it was the next logical step for him. How it would advance his career dramatically. Those answers seemed woefully inadequate now. A fresh wave of nausea rolled through him.
“I don’t know,” Karthik said, his voice breaking. “I really don’t know.”
The other interviewers’ faces were a blur, but Jim’s was crystal clear. His eyebrows drawn together, mouth parted in shock.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jim asked.
Karthik shook his head. “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t. I’m not even engaged.”
“Engaged?”
“You met her. At Marianne’s party? Except she’s not really my fiancée.”
Jim’s eyes went round. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“That’s the only reason Marianne recommended me for the job. You shouldn’t be interviewing me. I’m a fraud.” Just like his father. Karthik took a deep, ragged breath. Then another. Something heavy pressed on his chest, preventing him from getting enough oxygen to his lungs.
“Karthik, are you … are you okay? If you’re not feeling well, we can reschedule. Or we can take a short break and reconvene …”
Karthik stood up. “I’m sorry. Please excuse me.” He walked out of the conference room, out of the elevator, out of the building, and into a cab. Before he fully knew what he was doing, he was on his way to LaGuardia Airport.
A swarm of butterflies rushed through Meghna’s stomach. Tonight was her students’ first (and only) performance, and she was so proud of how hard they had worked to get here. Sure, the costumes were repurposed from last year’s show, and the set did little to disguise the fact that they were performing in the cafeteria, but she was excited. And the students were too. They were taking selfies in their costumes, wishing each other good luck, and buzzing around with that pre-show energy that Meghna loved so much. She hadn’t been backstage before a performance since she was in college, and she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it.
“Everyone, we have thirty minutes,” she called out. “Time to circle up.”
The students huddled together, forming a ring around her. She walked them through the warm-up exercises they started every rehearsal with: tongue twisters and silly faces and jumping up and down to shake out all the nerves. She gave a modified version of her high school theater teacher’s standard pep talk, then sent them on their way, reminding them to use the restroom now before going to their places.
They scrambled away, and she took a deep breath, peeking out from behind the curtain to look at the audience. It was still early, but some parents and teachers were already out in the crowd. Her parents had promised to come too, but they’d probably get there right before showtime. They always seemed to run about fifteen minutes behind everyone else. Her phone beeped, and she pulled it out, expecting to see an ETA from them. Instead, it was a text from Karthik.
That was strange. What parking lot was he talking about? Did he think she was in New York?
He was here? At her school?
She checked in with a parent volunteer, who promised to keep an eye on things, then rushed outside. It was getting dark. A silhouette of a man standing a short distance away caught her eye. She walked toward him.
“Karthik, what are you doing here? I can’t believe …” Her voice trailed off when she saw a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “Are those for me?”
He nodded. “Yes. Congratulations on your performance.”
Something gooey and hot melted inside her. “Thanks. That’s so sweet of you.” She took the bouquet from his hands and smelled it. The gesture was kind, but she was still confused about why he was here. They hadn’t talked since they parted ways at the airport. Since all that awkwardness between them.
“What are you doing in Dallas?”
He looked away, his eyes not meeting hers.
She searched his face, but the parking lot was poorly lit. She couldn’t make out much through the shadows. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” he said, but he choked on the word. Almost as if … as if he had held back a sob.
Concern grew within her. “Karthik, what’s going on?”
He shook his head and wiped a hand over his face, but the noises he made were unmistakable. He was crying.
Her chest cracked open. “Karthik,” she said softly, lifting her arms and wrapping them around him. He didn’t move for several seconds, his body stiff. Frozen. But then his arms came around her, gently drawing her closer. The sobs wracked his body. His chest heaved against hers. She tightened her arms around him, silently telling him that it was okay. That she was here. They stood there for several moments, arms entwined around each other, until his cries softened and his breathing became more even.
He dropped his chin onto the top of her head and inhaled deeply. “Thank you,” he said, his voice scratchy and raw.
He stepped back, and she immediately dropped her arms.
“It’s fine,” she said, watching him closely. His retreat placed his face under one of the few light poles, and the traces of tears left on his cheek glistened. She took a small step toward him, lifting her hand to his jaw, wiping a tear away with her thumb.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.
A breeze swept through the parking lot, and it ran through his hair, scattering it in every direction. She watched it in fascination, absentmindedly moving her thumb back and forth across his cheek. He cleared his throat, and she withdrew her hand, placing it back at her side.
His face had returned to its usual stoic and cold expression, though there might have been a new tenderness and vulnerability in his eyes. “No,” he said, a bit hoarsely. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She could understand that. She didn’t know what had happened, but she couldn’t imagine that Karthik cried easily. And certainly not in front of people. She’d let it go for now, give him some space, and check back in with him later.
“Okay,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Do you want to come inside? I can’t promise the show will be amazing, but you’ll get to watch middle schoolers sing in horrible Cockney accents about the rain in Spain.”
He let out a short, dry laugh. It sounded forced to her ears, but she was still relieved to hear it.
“Absolutely,” he said.
She wrapped a hand around his elbow and led him to the cafeteria. She was about to take him to a seat in the audience, but stopped, suddenly remembering.
“My parents are coming tonight,” she told Karthik. “Is that okay?”
She scanned his face. Besides a bit of redness near his eyes, he didn’t look like he had been crying. Most people would probably chalk it up to allergies. Still, she didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. He hadn’t responded to her question yet, but the uncertainty on his face made it clear that he hadn’t expected her parents would be there.
“You could come hang out with me backstage,” Meghna offered before he could say anything. “It’ll be chaotic and you won’t be able to see the performance as well as you would from the audience, but …”
“That sounds perfect,” he said.
She took him to their makeshift “backstage” area and found a chair for him. She’d be running around for most of the show, but he’d be able to watch some of it from this spot in the wings.
“Oi. Ms. Raman, is this yer boyfriend?”
Meghna turned, following the sound of sixth grader Aidan’s voice. A few students had gathered around them and were watching Karthik curiously.
“Great job staying in character, Aidan,” Meghna replied. “And yes, he’s my boyfriend.”
“Fiancé,” Karthik interjected.
“Right. That’s what I meant. He’s my fiancé.”
Her students grinned at them, their teeth bright and white against their faces, which were streaked in stage makeup that resembled soot.
She clapped her hands. “Okay, guys. That’s enough gawking. Karthik’s going to be sitting here all night, but don’t bother him until after the show’s over.”
He raised an eyebrow at that, and she returned the gesture with a wink. Not waiting for his reaction, she took off, corralling her straggling students into their starting places. She managed to get everyone where they needed to be in record time and did a final check with the parent volunteers who were standing by to assist with costume changes and props. Right as she finished, the lights in the cafeteria dimmed, and the beginnings of the overture played. She took a deep breath and crossed her fingers.
Showtime.