Nights Like This (10 page)

“No training wheels, baby,” I said, “Just do it.”

We did the shot. I was feeling happier than before, a little buzzed, a little warm.

“So,” Ish said. I knew she was about to say something really stupid. “I think we should each say who our true love is.”

I now wanted to help Kat slap the shit out of her.

“Well, I'll go first,” Ish said.

She tossed back her mess of a haircut and said, “Katherine is the true love I was fortunate enough to recognize. What about you, Anjali?”

Anjali inhaled deeply and I knew I would need another shot after she spoke.

“Jess,” she said softly, “Jess is the love of my life.”

We were silent as we stared at empty shot glasses.

I had the urge to say something but then I remembered Vanessa telling me not to fill full spaces with empty words. I wondered what she was doing as I was staring at empty shot glasses, feeling as empty and confused as I ever had.

“Jess, what's your answer?” Ish asked.

“I don't talk about my life with strangers, Ish.”

“I'm no stranger, Jess.”

I glared at her. I had never been more certain that I hated her.

“I'll tell you when you tell me who you fucked in Nairobi.”

She laughed a laugh so haughty and so fake that I knew I had her in a corner.

“Jess, you really think…”

“Tell us you didn't then. In fact, I can almost bet you're engaged to some man who thinks you're crazy about him. And, Ish, if you sucked my dick night after night, I would think the same fucking thing.”

She looked at me as if I had torn her secret from the darkest part of her. Truth was, I was so buzzed and so annoyed, I didn't know where all that came from. All I knew was that sometime over a year ago, Ish had called Kat to tell her she might have to get engaged and then break it off before she returned. If there was more to that story, I didn't know it.

Ish looked at Kat now. I wondered if Kat would call her bluff or pretend that she hadn't figured out that I was right. Kat kept staring at the empty glasses and then got up.

“I think it's time to get home. I gotta work a double tomorrow an' I'm tired.”

She quietly walked past the rest of us and then Ish got up.

“Well I guess it is getting late,” Ish said so meekly that I wanted to laugh. I felt like I had finally won with her. Why that mattered to me I don't know but I enjoyed her discomfort, her sullen face, her quiet voice.

Ish hugged Anjali and kissed her cheek before leaving. Dior red stained my girlfriend and I wasn't happy.

Anjali said bye and call me and all the things that made her a socialite and me an anti-social creature. After they had left, I looked at Anjali to see what she would say about anything. I licked my thumb and rubbed her cheek hard, making sure the red dissolved, erasing all traces of Ish.

“Is it off, Jess?”

“Yes.”

“You happy?” she asked as if she knew how much I hated Ish, how I detested her lipstick.

“I just don't want you walking around with lipstick on your cheek,” I lied.

“You want another drink?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She went and got us dirty martinis. We sat, in silence, side by side, as we sipped the liquor and were lost in worlds that were so separate yet forced together by chance or luck or our own unwillingness to change the little in our lives that was stable. Anjali leaned on my shoulder and I kissed the top of her head. I kept my mouth in the curls of her hair and smelled faint hints of freesia.

“I don't ever want to be like that,” she said.

“No, baby,” I said, “We won't.”

And we wouldn't. As far as I could see, Anjali and I didn't need anyone else's rendition of drama or heartbreak. We'd done a great job of creating our own drama full of its own climaxes and denouements. I looked around the lounge and then back at Anjali, the curls of her hair catching glints of dim light at certain angles.

“This is going to sound really weird, babe, but I'm really turned on at the moment,” I said.

She laughed and it was the cutest sound I had ever heard from her.

“Call me Anjali, Jess. Don't call me anything else.”

“Why?”

“Because it's you. And I love hearing you say my name. It makes me feel like royalty. Shall I tell you a story, Jasbir C. Banerjee?”

I laughed despite myself.

“Sure, tell me a story, Dr. Anjali Chopra.”

Anjali took my hand and held it in hers. She looked into my eyes.

“Once upon a time, very long ago, there lived a young girl named Anjali. Now what Anjali wanted more than anything was?”

“To be unforgettable,” I whispered.

“Yes. But she became a doctor instead, lived in NYC and drank martinis. But you know what makes her feel unforgettable, Jasbir C. Banerjee?”

“What's that?”

“Hearing you say her name.”

“Then I'll keep saying it,” I said.

I leaned towards her and kissed her. When I sat back, a flash of light caught the metal glass the bartender was shaking and I thought of a thumb ring glistening in sunshine.

Hadn't Vanessa just told me the same thing, that she loved hearing me say her name? She had.

I wondered if my voice changed when I said the names of my lovers because on a day-to-day basis, my voice was a little too low, had a little too much bass and was nothing exceptional.

Anjali placed her head on my shoulder and brought my thoughts back to the lounge and to her.

“What are you thinking, Jess?”

She kissed my mouth softly.

“About what Ish was saying. About unwritten stories.”

“The way you guys go at each other, I don't know if I can have you in the same room again.”

“But this time she's right,” I whispered to myself.

I don't know what Anjali was thinking but we were quiet for a long time.

“Do you want to go?” I asked.

“I actually just want to sit here for a while,” she said.

I didn't move. I sat with her, both of us swimming in oceans of different thoughts. Except I knew that regardless of how different our thoughts were, we were both terrified of drowning, alone, without ever knowing the feel of ground beneath our feet, the certainty of a lover at our door, waiting, sometime, to renew our faith that there existed somewhere, someone to mend our broken wings.

 

 

 

Vanessa called me that Thursday just as I was leaving the apartment to go to work.

“I just wanted to know if you could come out and play, princess.”

I could have told her I had things to do but I called out of work instead. I changed from my work clothes into my jeans and my black kurta. It no longer smelled like sandalwood soap or Queen of the Night incense but I believed it had brought me luck once with Vanessa and so it would bring me luck again. Superstition and all that. As I was leaving, my gaze caught a photo of Anjali and me that was above the sofa. We were toasting glasses of champagne, her sari glittering gold, the same color as the champagne in her glass, my salwar kameez a soft pink, catching the light in glints. I stopped. I remembered the photo, taken at a friend's wedding, Anjali and me dancing, laughing, loving each other as if there were no tomorrow. I sighed. I sat on the sofa. And I prayed. I prayed so hard I began to cry. I didn't know what was happening to me. I just lost it. It was all too hard. And it was all too confusing. I loved Anjali I did. But I felt something for Vanessa too. I told myself that I was just going to see what she wanted to talk about. Maybe she also realized that her “situational partner” meant something and she was going to tell me we could maybe be friends but that's all. But would I be happy about her decision or disappointed? I didn't know but it was worth finding out. I washed my face, stroked my eyebrows with my thumb making a mental note that I needed to get them threaded, made myself smile in front of the mirror and left the apartment.

When I arrived at the park, I walked slowly down the stairs towards the fountain. I did not want Vanessa to be watching me without my knowledge. I didn't want her to realize how eager I was to see her again. The few short meetings between us had blurred in my mind. Even the humiliation of having called her and having had to remind her who I was had faded with the time that had passed. All I wanted was to see her again, to hear her sharp words, to wait for the moments when her tenderness spilled from her.

She wasn't at the park when I got there. I sat on the damp rim of the fountain and looked towards the beginning of Poet's Walk. I remembered walks I had taken on that path, wondering about the whispering of statues that looked at me, believing that I was somehow destined to be a writer. I would rise to fame over words I had written longhand in obscure and not so obscure coffee shops, pages marked with dots and splashes of lattes and espressos. I wondered why I was thinking back to past failures, why I hadn't opened a book to study all summer, why I was so lethargic as I followed the chosen steps of my life. But then I remembered why I didn't write and how I detested the MCATs and everything fell into place as to why I was where I was.

I noticed her when she was more than halfway down the stairs, her hair moving with her motions, her body soft and beautiful with the light of afternoon sun. When she reached me, she touched my face with the back of her hand, her knuckles grazing my jaw.

“Hey, princess,” she said, “Waiting for me?”

I looked up at her and wondered what she had been doing since I saw her last. Whom had she seen? Had she slept with anyone? Had she come to our fountain in Central Park? My mind raced as she took a seat next to me.

“What have you been up to?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

“How's your writing coming along?” I asked.

I don't know what made me think of her writing but it came to me and I wanted to know if she had been writing anything, had been creative while my pages had stayed clean and unstained and cold.

“Why would you ask me that?” she asked.

“I don't know, I just thought of it. Truth is, I want to write again and I can't. I hate the idea of med school. I hate my job. I wish I could just write and be good at it and keep doing it.”

I don't think I admitted my truths at that moment because I was talking to Vanessa. I was at a loss to myself in regards to why the choices I had made so determinately were now falling short of all satisfaction. There was an all-consuming numbness that I wanted to shake from my body but it seemed that it was seeping deeper into everything that I did.

Vanessa touched my hand as if to wake me from my thoughts.

“Baby, you can't write.”

I looked at her. I was confused by what she was saying and more so by why she was saying it.

“I bet even when you used to write, you wrote shit.”

“What the fuck?”

“I'm just saying, you're not honest about anything to anyone. And I just don't see you writing anything that touches you or anyone else.”

“No, I never wrote sappy shit if that's what you mean.”

“No, Jess, we write as we love and I think you're probably shitty at both.”

“You know Vanessa, if I'm so fucking bad, why the hell did you call me?”

I was on my feet, ready to leave when she took my hand and held it tightly.

“Listen to me. Come away with me. Come with me and let me show you why you can't write. Let me show you how to write. Let me show you how to love.”

“There's no fucking way,” I said as I thought of Anjali coming home to an empty apartment while I was gallivanting with Vanessa. I couldn't do that to Anjali.

“I want to show you how to write. I want to show you how to love. That's all. It'll be a fun ten days.”

“I don't get you,” I said, “I don't get you. One day you want to show me how to love and another day you don't remember me from the night before.”

I started to cry. It all came crashing down on me—the anticipation I had felt while I waited for her, the fear I felt at loving her, the jealousy that there was someone else in her five-story walk up screaming her name—most of all, I cried for the confusion inside me whenever I saw her. I had never wanted anyone more sincerely in my life and I could not answer why. I just knew that I was meant to love this woman.

I waited for her response. She ignored the fact that I had tears everywhere. I tried to wipe them away with my palms and felt foolish. She turned and faced me, pushed my hair behind my ears, looked in my eyes and narrowed her gaze.

“Because you know what the hell you want? Because you're so clear on what you do and why you do it? Shit, I like you. I really like you. But it doesn't mean that everything in my life that was fucked up before you decided to vanish the day I met you. It doesn't mean I trust you. It doesn't mean shit except that I like you. I don't even think you know what the fuck you feel about me.”

“I do know I love you.”

“You love me?”

I stared at my feet. She held my face in her hands.

“Come with me,” she said softly as if asking me to trust her.

“I can't,” I said. “I just can't.”

“Because you're scared of your sugar mommy?”

“I'm not scared of her. I love her.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

“Because I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“I don't know,” I said.

“Just come with me. We don't have to fuck or even touch. I'll even get us separate beds if you want.”

If that were the case, maybe I could go away with Vanessa. I mean it was a platonic getaway. Who could grudge me that? Although if Anjali had ever even suggested going away with Ish I knew I would have gone crazy. But this was different, I assured myself. This was different.

“Where?” I finally asked.

“Just trust me on this. Come with me.”

“Where the fuck to?”

“Wherever. Just trust me and come away for ten days.”

“What the hell am I going to do with you for ten days? I like you, I do. I say I love you and you don't even respond to me. But you're asking me to just go somewhere and even you don't know where that is. Like I said, what the hell am I going to do for ten days?”

She traced my lips with her fingers.

“You're not in love yet. You don't know what love is. You're going to fall in love with me. You're going to abandon this city and learn what you want. You're going to figure out who Jess is. What do you have to lose?”

“What if I don't want to fall in love with you? I don't want to fall in love. I'm already in love. And what I have to lose is my girl. I'm not willing to lose her.”

“Okay, don't fall in love although two minutes ago you said you loved me. I'll pretend to ignore that. I think you are completely fucked up at the moment but that's okay too. We will fix all that. And as far as your girl, why would you lose her if we're just two friends going on a road trip? I mean hell I'll meet her if you want.”

“My job,” I said.

“I haven't heard you say you've gone to work a day since I met you.”

“What happened to keeping it at lays?”

Vanessa laughed.

“Oh, because that's working out so well.”

She was right. We were far beyond the deception of lays and entering the confused territory of “what is this, anyway?”

“How the hell am I going to have the money to go?” I asked.

“You have a rich bitch in love with you. Ask her for it. She'll give it to you.”

“Please don't call her a ‘bitch,'” I said.

Vanessa squeezed my hand.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “All I'm saying is ask her for the money.”

I was uncomfortable with that suggestion. I also knew that, contrary to what I said, I wanted to spend ten days with Vanessa, away from her life and mine. But lying to Anjali? Asking for money to go away with another woman? It seemed all sorts of wrong.

“What does she do anyway?”

“She's a dermatologist. She owns her own practice.”

“Shit, she could give you as much as you ask for and not miss it.”

This was true. Anjali had more money than she knew what to do with. I had none. Even the little I made at work was spent without my knowing. Ever since I had moved in with Anjali, I had never thought about money as something I had or didn't. Anjali always had money for me. But this time, it seemed like I couldn't justify asking her.

“What do you say?”

“I want to quit my sorry ass job,” I said. “I want to quit and run away.”

“So run away with me. Just ten days. It'll change your life. I promise.”

But how could I justify asking Anjali for money? Vanessa's suggestion about the platonic friends dialogue wouldn't ever be enough for Anjali to understand.

“I can't tell her you're going with me. She would never understand, even if it were platonic. She would never believe it was platonic. I'd have to lie to her.”

“All I'm asking is for ten days. After that if you never want to meet me again, even that's okay. I just want a chance with you. To get to know you, and you to know me. And how far we go, what we do will be all up to you. I promise.”

I sat there dumbfounded. I tried to think of Anjali the whole time but sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants and at that moment my heart wanted Vanessa. The problem with her platonic scheme was that I didn't have it in me to resist her, to not touch her. And I had promised Anjali my whole being. But if I was strong and could just be good, what was wrong with going away for ten days? I deserved my escape too.

“I'll come with you,” I said.

“We're going to have a great time.”

“Are you going to remember me when I call you?”

Vanessa stepped closer to me and put her arms around my neck. She leaned in to kiss me and I pushed her away.

“This is the shit I'm talking about,” I said. “I can't and I won't do this. I can't. I promised.”

“I want to touch you everywhere,” she said.

“Are you listening to me?” I asked.

“Yes I am. You made a promise. But I didn't, princess. You can't blame me for trying.”

“If this is what ten days with you will be about, I…”

She put a finger to my lips.

“Okay, I won't. Let's talk about something else.”

We were silent for a long while.

“I want to read your writing,” I said mostly because I wanted to break the silence. But once I said it, I realized I did want to read her writing, to know the trajectories that her mind traveled, to perhaps penetrate her nonchalance towards life.

She looked at me, confused.

“Where did that come from?”

“I don't know, it just did.”

In silence we started walking towards the steps. She took my hand and started swinging our arms gently back and forth casting shadows of longing on the ground ahead of us.

“Jess, I write to take words out of my mind, to throw out some of my thoughts. I don't write to do anything with it.”

“But I want to read it.”

“Before or after we fuck?”

“I'm being serious. Why is everything about ‘fucking' with you? Why is that all you pay attention to or talk about? Why—”

“Because I'm scared too!”

Her words resounded in the park and I saw a few pigeons leave the fountain. I wanted to say something but didn't know what to say to her.

“You're scared of what?” I finally asked, afraid myself of her answer.

“Of falling madly in love with you.”

“But we'll be friends,” I said foolishly, “Platonic and all of that.”

“That's the best fucking way to fall in love, Jess! Faster than any fuck I've ever known. Because when you go beyond the lay to the person and touch them in all the ways one person can touch another, body mind and soul, what do you think is going to happen?”

“So if I don't want to fall for you and you don't want to fall for me, then what are we both doing here? Aren't we crazy to be going away for ten days? Aren't we just tempting fate or God or the Universe or whatever it is that keeps us?”

She took my hand and held it quietly as if it belonged to her.