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“Do you run into them often?” I asked. “I just realized I don’t have to see them or accidentally run into them, but you live in the same city.”
She nodded. “Yup, same city, common friends. Even if I don’t want to, certain social events mandate our presence. Friends’ weddings, business socials, award functions in the desi community.”
The soft lines of sadness on her face gave a faint impression of a flower that was preparing to wilt.
“You will find love again, Aarti,” something inside me prompted me to say.
“Maybe, but I am not worried about it. I have enough on my plate and more. My family and friends keep setting me up on dates, though I’ve not found anyone remotely interesting.” She rolled her eyes and smiled when I chuckled at her words. A part of me celebrated the fact that her dates had been dull.
“I like this,” she said, making herself comfortable in the oversized chair. “I like that I can talk to you about anything that crosses my mind without fear of being judged or ridiculed.”
I leaned back against the couch, almost slouching, and adjusted my face to see her.
“Me too. I’m always closely guarded about what comes out of my mouth, especially after the breakup. With you, I can just be me. I don’t have to worry about what you’ll think of me, or if I share something, it will somehow appear in the desi rumor mill.”
“Here too?”
“Here and New Jersey.”
“After Sameer dumped me, they maligned his name, poor thing. Dad’s too influential and well-connected for them to comeafter me, but Sameer lost many big business accounts after that. But hushed gossips didn’t spare me either.”
“How did you cope?” I inquired softly.
“Not well. I isolated myself, avoided gatherings while I healed. Then I realized that the rumors might actually do me good because people would stop approaching my parents with marriage proposals. And it worked. For months, there was sweet, golden silence on that front. Then, last month, we bought out four big real estate companies, increasing our worth and our influence on the East Coast. And the worms came crawling out of the woodwork. So many pathetic men who don’t want to work but instead survive on my father’s wealth. They call me damaged goods and hope that I’ll settle for a less-than-ideal match to save face.”
The cruelty in those words hurt a deep place in my heart.
“They want me to play the dainty socialite who’ll stay in my little box after the wedding,” she continued. “Fuck that! I’m single-handedly running my father’s company. I love what I do, and I’m very good at it. My brother is younger, pampered, married, and a new father. He’s still learning the ropes. But I’ve doubled the company’s size and worth since I started. I turned thirty-one this year, and people say to my parents,how long will you keep her unmarried? Thankfully, like me, my mom is mouthy. She retorts,as long as it takes for her to find a deserving partner.”
I poured myself another finger of the smooth liquor.
“So, what’s your sob story?” she asked, sipping the water in her glass.
I sighed. “My sob story is that Tara was the first woman I truly loved.”
“You’re kidding. How old were you?”
I laughed. “Old enough to have sorted out first love and crushes a long time ago.”
“I refuse to believe that you never liked another woman until you met Tara.”
“Well…”
“I knew it. Tell me everything. Leave nothing out.” She grinned and sat up to savor the juicy tale. Except, there was no meat in this story. Literally and figuratively.
I chuckled inwardly before I said, “I never told her I liked her.”
“Who was she?”
“Technically, a friend. We were in the same group of friends in college, and I liked her immensely. But before I could gather my wits to tell her, she was going out with my friend, a close friend at the time. That door literally slammed shut on my face. They married after college and divorced a few years later.”
Her eyes studied me with curiosity. She knew there was more. I nodded, slightly unsettled by this recognition from her, this connection we shared as if she knew exactly what thought was crossing my mind at that moment. I resisted against it, tried to quash it, but I knew I was weak before it. Before her.
“She contacted me after her divorce and asked me to meet over coffee. I saw no reason to refuse, especially since we operated in the same industry. She confessed that she knew I was interested in her, but chose my friend because she thought he had better prospects. I had to appreciate her honesty. But it was too late. I didn’t feel anything for her anymore.” I offered a light shrug.
“And you never liked anyone else?”
“I stayed away was more like it. Maybe I’m a true romantic who believes love will find its way to me. Or perhaps I am too scared to acknowledge my desires.”