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SUJIT
It was the second time the word Dallas had crossed my desk that morning.
I stared at the screen before me, trying to read the code again. I knew it like the back of my hand, but it looked Greek to me. Scratch that. I had taken courses in modern Greek in college, so that language actually made sense to me. What scriptwasGreek to me?
Telugu, my mother tongue.That script was definitely alien to me. I wondered why my parents hadn’t insisted that I learn to read Telugu. Although I understood the language and could speak it, my English and French were more powerful than my mother tongue.
I was aware this was a distraction tactic, trying to avoid going back to that wedding invitation tossed into my desk drawer. Not with hatred or resentment, just put out of sight so I could hurt less. Or so I had convinced myself. It hadn’t worked. I was still obsessing over the glossy ivory cardstock embossed with the tasteful, delicate paisley while pondering existential conundrums like why my Greek was better than my Telugu reading skills. With one eye on the clock in the top right cornerof my laptop screen, I was also trying to see how long I would last before giving in and reaching for the invitation once more.
Devi saved me from that embarrassment when she placed a single knock on the glass door and walked in without waiting for my response.
“Did you take a look at the document?” she asked in her usual calm demeanor.
“What document?” I peered at her over the metal rim of my glasses, a frown of confusion creasing my brow even though I knew exactly what document she was referring to.
The document that had the word Dallas scrawled all over it.
As my executive assistant, Devi was used to my absent-mindedness. She leaned across the desk, pulled a thick set of papers stapled together from under my laptop, and placed it on the keyboard. I preferred to read everything digitally, but Devi was old school. She preferred paper. She insisted that this was the most effective and efficient way of getting things done right. If it was tangible and in your hand, you couldn’t avoid it or put it out of sight.
She waited patiently while I picked up the document and went through it page by page again for her benefit. It wasn’t the first time I was reading it, but having it in print did have a poignant impact. Devi was right about that. I glanced at her before tossing the stack across the desk. She knew the exact reason for my reaction, and I heard her pull in a soft breath.
“It’s finally happened,” I said, mildly annoyed. Although, at this point, I couldn’t pinpoint the exact source of my annoyance.
“Yes, as Walt told us months ago,” she reminded, shuffling her planner from her left hand to her right.
While everyone else had moved on to iPads and tablets, Devi trusted her paper pad, her paper planner, and the power of her colorful pens.
“Walt’s a good man,” I observed absently.
“Yes,” she said.
“But this is unacceptable.”
“Again, as Walt warned us when he sold this property.”
“To some swanky realtors based in Texas, I see,” I said with a gentle frown.
She knew I had omitted the name of the city for a reason. They all knew. For months, I had drowned in shame and embarrassment before they teamed up to convince me that I’d come out swimming at the other end, happy and intact. I had yet to reach that promised land.
“To call them realtors is like calling Lata Mangeshkar a singer. She was an institution, as are they. I think empire might be a more appropriate term.”
Devi was teasing, but her tone might as well suggest she was rendering a vital consultation on a global crisis.
I frowned at her. “Oh good, royalty! They can besoaccommodating.”
I picked up the papers again and reread the terms while she stood with the stoic face I hated, the pen steady in her hand. That was the face she made when I went on a rant, and she waited for me to be all vented out.
Devi was smart, capable, efficient, and my sister-in-law’s best friend from college, so she could take liberties with me that others wouldn’t dream of. Not that I was particularly hard-ass, but I could be difficult. Mainly, though, the deference and respect I garnered were on account of my success and the wealth I had amassed in the short time since I’d founded my first start-up.
“So, what now?” I asked.
“We need to renegotiate the lease and sign a new contract.”
“For a higher rent?”
“You can bet on it. I’ve already sent El a heads-up.”
Eleanor headed our accounts department. For all intents and purposes, shewasthe accounts department.