Chapter Nine
Ashish
“You look like shit.”
I don’t even look up from my laptop as Ravi walks into my office. My brother is an asshole. He sets a paper cup on my desk and sits in the chair across from me.
“Nothing to say for yourself? No ‘Ravi, thank you for letting me use your phone,’ which you haven’t given back by the way.”
I hit the keys a little harder than necessary. Maybe if I ignore him, he will go away.
“How about ‘Ravi, thank you so much for sitting outside my girlfriend’s hotel and following her Uber like a freaking creep to make sure she got to the airport okay?’”
I grunt and glance over at him. My brother has made himself comfortable with his arms stretched behind his head, and a smug smile spread across his face. Ravi looks more like our Mom, his hair and skin lighter than mine, his build taller and skinnier like the men on her side of the family.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I sigh. I have a headache.
“Oh ‘Not my girlfriend’? Are you freaking kidding me? You have been mooning over this woman for like two years.”
I want to punch him in his stupid happy face. Doesn’t he realize I’ve lost everything before I even had it, fuck, that I’m going to have to face her? That she’s going to be even more pissed when I…I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Hey, Bhaiya, it’s okay. Don’t look so sad. You’re going to see her in a couple of months, right?”
“Rav, you don’t understand. She never wants to see me again.”
He frowns and sips his coffee staring at me contemplatively.
“She get to the airport okay?” I hate myself for asking, for having messed this up badly enough that I didn’t get to take her myself. Or really because we’re not in my apartment now, because she agreed to stay over the weekend.
“Yeah, she got there okay, a little early for her flight. You wanna tell me what happened?” His voice is quieter and he looks somber. I must really look like shit.
“I fucked up, Rav. Bad.” My phone and his are side-by-side on my desk, and I stare at them, willing Bernadette to call and talk to me. Yell at me. Anything. If she would have just let me explain. I dig my elbows into the hard surface of my desk and use it as leverage to press the heels of my hands into my eyes so hard that I see stars.
“Obviously. You were all rainbows and ‘Rav, I need to clear my calendar, I’m probably going to take the rest of the week off’ yesterday.” Ravi stands and walks to the big windows behind me, pulling the blinds and letting more natural light into my space. “Tell me what happened and we’ll figure it out.”
I pick up the coffee he brought me and hunch my back. I liked it when it was darker.
“I don’t think I can fix this, Rav. She was so angry and then–”
“Angry? You’ve known this woman for like two days. How could you make her angry?” He sits on my desk and crosses his arms, looking down at me. I don’t want to meet his eyes. I don’t want my little brother to be disappointed in me. I think back to a couple of days ago when I saw her in person for the first time.
***
Two days earlier
I scan the crowded bar for my brother. Jesus, what kind of conference is this place hosting? It’s packed with middle-aged dudes talking in groups and slamming back drinks. Ravi waves from the corner of the bar, two glasses filled, ready and waiting. I make my way over to him.
“Hey, Bhaiya.” He slaps me on the back as I take a seat. My brother is like a puppy, always happy, and lighthearted, everybody loves him. Just like our mom, a people person, it’s why he handles the business and I do the math. I like people, but Ravi loves them. He’s the life of the party.
“Ravi, thanks for getting us some drinks. Sorry, I kept you waiting.” I take a sip of the gin and tonic and try to relax my body. I fucking hate academic public speaking. I can pitch to a client all day but put me in front of a bunch of PhDs? No thanks.
I look around, he’s picked some great seats for people-watching. The bar is a large rectangle with tables to the right by the door and a few booths to the left. All hardwood, dim light, and the smell of cologne and alcohol.
“No worries, eavesdropping at this place is hilarious. There must be some kind of medical conference going on here. The dudes behind you were just talking about massaging some guy’s heart, fucking wild.”
“What?”
“Seriously, Ash. This guy to your left was bragging that his hands are big enough to be able to do a single-handed technique for an internal cardiac massage. What the hell kind of dick flex is that?” Ravi laughs and picks up his drink.
“Jesus, and I thought public speaking sucked. Puts it into perspective.”
“Whatever, you build bridges and shit, just as important.” He elbows my side. “Speaking of the big talk, how did it go? I’m bummed you wouldn’t let me come watch.”
“You know you would have heckled the shit out of me. I don’t need a bunch of professors thinking I’m not smart enough to be in the room,” I take another drink and shrug. “It went okay. People seemed to respond well to the idea and were excited by the Department of Education grant and the progress we’ve made with MIT and our firm.”
He nods along, practically bouncing in his seat.“And?”
“And what?” I take another drink to busy myself. I don’t want to talk about this, honestly, I shouldn’t have told him about her.
“Was she there?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You are fucking delusional Ash, was she there?”
I’m glad it’s so dark in the bar so he can’t see that I’m blushing. Bernadette Murphy has been living rent-free in my mind since the first time I saw her at this conference virtually two years ago. We’d been on Zoom because of the pandemic. She was a postdoc at Seattle State and had been part of a grad student and early career panel on higher education research. She was smart and beautiful. The way she’d handled herself, handled the moderator.
I was…obsessed.
“No, she wasn’t there. Maybe, maybe she’s not here this year.” Ravi’s face falls and I envy him. He’s always been able to show what he’s feeling. He’s happy, he’s sad, he’s mad--he wears it all on his face. I play it a little closer to the vest, locking down what I’m thinking or feeling, and sharing with a select few.
“I’m sorry, Bhaiya, I know you were excited to see her. But you will in a couple of months, yeah?”
I nod glumly and finish my drink.“I’ve probably built it up too much in my mind, Ravi. Better I didn’t see her tonight, that she’s not at the conference.”
“Ash, you…look man, you're a hyper-focused guy. You went to that conference because you were frustrated, you had a problem, and you were looking for answers. She caught your attention for a reason and led you to a solution. Hell, she has changed your life, both of our lives. I think it’s okay to be excited to meet her, yeah?”
I signal to the bartender for another round of drinks and he waves at me distractedly. The two guys bragging about hand size and internal cardiac massage are doing shots. Jesus.
“I just thought she was going to be there.” During my whole keynote, I scanned the crowd, searching for a halo of blonde curly hair and big blue eyes To be honest, I probably said yes because I thought it was impressive.
Two more drinks are pushed in front of us and I watch the bartender hurry through some double doors in the back and come out with food. I point. “You want some food?”
Ravi shakes his head. “I’m good. I want to talk about the plan.”
I roll my eyes. “We’ve been over the plan. We’re promoting two junior engineers to take over my workload while I’m in West Lafayette.”
Ravi laughs and claps me on the back. “To be the only desi guy in Indiana.”
I snort and try my new drink, humming in appreciation. The bartender might be busy, but he makes strong drinks. “It’s going to be fine.”
I scan the bar, noticing a few groups of guys nudging each other and glancing at the other side of the bar with the booths. Curious, I follow their attention, and I see her, Bernadette Murphy, a dark blonde angel surrounded by black leather.
“Chhote, it’s her. Look,” I hiss, shoulder-checking him. I point my chin in her direction.
“Holy shit, Ash. What are the freaking odds? What’s she doing here? What are you going to do?”
I don’t even think about it; I’m already standing. “I have to go over there. I have to meet her, right?”
“Of course, you need to go over there. You better do it quickly. Looks like these doctors are horny and eyeballing your girl.” I immediately look around the room and Ravi laughs at me.
“Nice, Rav,” I droll. He laughs and slaps me on the back. This is the point where my feet should move. I want them to but I just can’t seem to make myself go. Breathing deep, I spread my hands across the bar top.
“I can’t, Ravi. I’ve made it too big. I shouldn’t bother her.”
My eyes take her in. I can’t believe she’s here, so close to me. I greedily soak up every detail I didn’t see through Zoom or her bio page.
She was beautiful. Dark curly blonde hair in a braid over her shoulder. And she looks tall, with long graceful arms and a small compact chest. I want her to stand, I want to sit next to her. Her face is oval-shaped with big eyes and a slightly longer nose with a bump on the bridge. Her lips are pink and thin, the top almost disappearing when she smiles at the bartender. I watch her lift a fork to her mouth as she idly flips through a notebook. I wonder if her eyes look as blue in person as they look on my computer.
“Ash, what are you waiting for? Go get your girl. Mom would say this is fate.” He shoves my shoulder again but my nerves get the better of me. I collapse onto my seat, cupping the wet glass between my hands. “I should let her finish her dinner.”
My brother groans beside me but otherwise doesn’t say anything as I obsessively watch Bernadette eat her dinner. I’m half aware of him sipping his drink and scrolling on his phone.
“Ashish.” Ravi nudges me, urging me to act. Bernadette licks frosting off of her fork, and I’mreluctant to look away. “Didn’t you call this girl your soulmate?”
“I was drunk.” And this is not the first time that I regret getting drunk while we were in lockdown and spilling my guts about this girl.
“Does it matter? This is your chance. Go.”
My chance. He’s right. It feels like this is it, I’m either going to do it or…I’m going to do it. I nod at Ravi and squeeze his shoulder in thanks. Walking through the tables and around the bar, I stuff my hands in my pockets and plant my feet in front of her table. I don’t know why I’m so certain that Bernadette Murphy is a person I need to know. But I absolutely do.
“I have to ask, what did that cake do to you?”
***
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I drink the rest of my coffee and toss the empty cup into the bin. Ravi bends down, removes the lid, and sets the paper cup on the desk.
“Hey, that’s compostable. The cup has little seeds embedded in it,” he scolds me. I don’t care. Pushing to my feet I walk over to the windows behind my desk, stuffing my fists into my slacks and rocking back on me heels.
“Doesn’t the coffee damage the–never mind, look, I lied to her,” I murmur. Clouds are starting to roll in, perfectly suited to my mood. I wonder what Bernadette thought of Boston. Bernie, she goes by Bernie , I remind myself.
“For your information, it’s a prototype. My friend down the street started a cart. And what the hell do you mean you lied to her?” His tone is more cautious. He’s right to wonder because I’m not a liar, especially not to women, a fact that frankly hasn’t always been an asset.
“When I introduced myself at the bar, I didn’t tell her who I was. That we were attending the same conference.”
“I’m not following, why the hell would you do that? Don’t you usually start with the things you have in common when you pick up women?”
I start to pace in front of the windows and he watches me solemnly.
“I sat down with her, and I was teasing her about the cake, and we got to talking about the hotel. I thought she would be weirded out if she knew that I knew who she was, so I asked if she was a cardiologist, and she told me she worked in higher ed. And then we started talking about academics and she said she was actively avoiding them. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? I literally just became a professor, and my dream girl tells me she’s not interested in ever dating another professor. So, when she called me Dr. Mishra and assumed I was attending the medical conference in the hotel, I—I didn’t correct her.” I glance at Ravi, not surprised that he’s looking at me like I grew three heads and changed my whole personality.
“But what did you talk about on your date?”
I close my eyes, breathing in through my nose before shaking my head.
“So…you went on a date, then she finds out the next day that you’re at MIT? And she was mad?”
“We didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“We didn’t go on a date. We stayed in.”
Ravi stands up sharply, color rushing to his face. “So, let me get this straight. You’ve been obsessing over this girl for like two years and instead of taking her out on a date you sleep with her. Conveniently leaving every way you are tangled up in her business. And she finds out you left things out, how?”
“I don’t know how she found it, but she texted me the Times article.”
“Holy shit, Ash. You lied to a girl so she would sleep with you? What are you, sixteen?”
“I didn’t lie to her. We just didn’t talk about work.” I clench my fists on the desk.
“Yeah, you’re thirty-five fucking years old and lying to a girl to get in her pants. Holy shit, what did she say when she found out about the site selection?” Ravi is pacing, I can tell his mind is racing. I know he’s worried that the whole plan we’ve built on this grant might crumble.
“She doesn’t know.”
“SHE DOESN’T KNOW?” my brother yells at me, and I feel shame twisting inside me. “How could you not tell her? What the hell are you going to do? How is she going to respond when you start working at her freaking college in the fall?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t let me tell her. I tried, Rav. She was so upset and wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t--she wouldn’t let me tell her.” I sound as miserable as I feel. I run my fingers over the back of my chair to give my hands something to do. There’s part of me that’s frustrated and feels like she overreacted. If she hadn’t withdrawn and just listened, I could have told her what to expect. I could’ve made it better.
I spin the chair and collapse into it.
No. If I had told her everything, she would have freaked out more.
“Ashish, you need to tell her. Everything is on pause because of this new direction. We’ve pivoted the entire firm because of this grant. We’ve added a whole stream of work because of our collaboration with MIT. We hired people, and people’s livelihoods are depending on us, on this work. What stake does she have in this? What’s her role? Help me understand the impact here.”
“She works in research development. From what I understand, she works with faculty in a project management capacity, helping track and execute projects and partnerships. She can’t stop anything, but she’s likely going to get stuck in the middle of it.”
Ravi drains his cup and stacks it into my empty, flinging his lid into the bin. “Sounds like you were able to talk about her work,” he accuses and I flip him off. He waves a hand before shrugging. “Okay, this sounds like personal damage.” He stands and crushes the cups, folding them in half, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He’s working something out. “Was it good? Between you?”
“Yeah. It was…good. Really freaking good. Better than I thought it would be. Better than I even imagined it could be with anyone.” I feel myself start to panic again. This cycle over and over, remorse, anger, panic, sadness, defeat.
“You think she’s it?”
I think about the feel of Bernie in my arms, how damn smart she is, and nod once.
“Then you fix it, Bhaiya . You’re an engineer, that’s what you do: identify a problem, then come up with a solution.” Ravi walks around my desk and claps me on the back. We’re a touchy family, and I appreciate the support. Bhaiya , the endearment makes me feel a little better. Bhaiya means older brother and Chhote means little. When we were kids and would visit our cousins in the UK, we’d pick up some Hindi words from our dad’s side of the family. When we’d come back to the States, it felt like we had a secret language.
“What if it doesn’t work? What if she still hates me?” I clear my throat because it suddenly feels tight.
“Then you iterate.” He gives me one more squeeze, then walks out of the office, closing the door behind him. I pick up his phone and text Bernie again.
617-495-3087: I hope you get home safely. I’m going to check in in a couple of days to see if you’re open to talking. Please call or text on either this phone or my other one. I’m sorry, Bernie.
I see the message turn from delivered to read and feel relief. I know she blocked my number, but it looks like she's kept Ravi’s for some reason. Looks like I need to buy my brother a new phone.