When Dimple Met Rishi
Page 61
“And I specifically told you I didn’t want a relationship! I don’t want this!” Dimple yelled, her voice crashing into him, reaching into his chest, and pulverizing his heart.
She sat there, panting, unable to believe she’d just yelled it out at him like that. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately, her voice shaking. “I’m sorry. But I . . . this isn’t working for me anymore.”
Rishi stared at her like she’d just told him a giant meteor was headed for the Earth and there was nothing to be done about it. He walked forward on shaky legs and fell onto the bench. He stared down at his hands and then looked up at her. “How long have you known you wanted to break up?” The fog curled around his words.
“I didn’t know,” Dimple said. “I mean, I was having all these doubts weeks ago . . . but . . .” She took a deep breath. “I wasn’t really sure till a couple of days ago. When they announced the winners.”
Rishi was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “Why?”
She thought about telling him the truth for a split second: How he was too right for her, how she was afraid they’d just met too early, how she was terrified she was giving up an essential part of herself or forgetting the reasons she hadn’t wanted a relationship in the first place. But Dimple knew he’d talk her down, that he’d have a good counterargument for every one of hers. She’d end up wanting to be with Rishi again, and she didn’t want that. A clean break, that’s what she was after. “We’re too different,” she said finally, choosing a half-truth. “I can’t . . . I can’t be with someone who cares so much about what his parents want from him. You lack courage, Rishi. And I can’t be with someone like that.” She was being so cruel. But she couldn’t pull any punches. “I want so much more from my life than what you seem to want.”
He looked at her, his eyes hollow, empty, like she’d never seen them before. Her heart hurt, physically, truly hurt, but she forced herself to keep her expression firm, unmoving, as he spoke. “I’ve changed so much for you. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I have. I just wanted to be with you, Dimple. I was even willing to put aside my parents’ wishes. I was willing to follow you around the world, wherever you wanted to go, wherever your career took you. But you’re right, I don’t have the courage you seem to have to buck every tradition and just do what I want. I actually care what my parents think of me, I care about what they want.”
Anger began to simmer in Dimple’s veins, even though she knew she’d provoked him. “Are you calling me selfish?”
Rishi stood, his fingertips pressed against the table. “I’m calling you unkind. You’re right; we are too different.” He turned and walked away, the fog swallowing him whole.
CHAPTER 56
“But can’t you wait till tomorrow morning?” Celia asked. She was sprawled on her bed, her legs in Ashish’s lap. They were both exchanging worried glances that Dimple pretended not to see.
She threw her clothes in her suitcase without bothering to fold them. She’d spent the first hour after she and Rishi broke up crying alone on the bench, wrapped in the fog. But then she’d wiped her eyes, marched to her dorm room, and taken a long shower, scrubbing her hair until her scalp was raw. That’s when she’d decided she wasn’t going to wait till the next morning to leave. What would be the point?
Celia and Ashish had just walked in ten minutes ago. Dimple got the feeling Rishi had told them what happened from the very obvious way they were not asking about him. “No. I need to get out of here now.”
Ashish cleared his throat. “But what about Jenny Lindt? The meeting went well, right?”
So they had talked to Rishi. Dimple paused for a moment as the pain washed over her, but then she continued as if nothing had happened. “Our work is mainly going to be over the computer. I’ll be at Stanford in a few weeks anyway, and it isn’t too far from here. I can always make the drive.” She snapped her suitcase shut and turned around.
Celia hopped off the bed. “I’m going to miss you,” she said.
“Me too.” Dimple stepped forward, and they hugged. “But we’ll keep texting. And we’ll be driving distance apart starting in the fall.”
Celia nodded furiously, and when she stepped back, her eyes were all misty. “I feel like no matter what roommate I get now, I’m going to be disappointed,” she said. “Because it won’t be you.”
Dimple swallowed the lump in her throat. “Ditto. You know, you could change your mind and decide to transfer to Stanford. . . .”
Celia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Like they’ll ever let me in that place.”
Dimple laughed and turned to Ashish, who was standing by Celia now. He smiled down at her, but it was coated in sadness and it made her chest tighten. His eyes reminded her so much of Rishi’s, she had to blink and look away. “It was nice to meet you, Ashish,” she said, rubbing at her nose. “Thank you for your help with the talent show.”
She held out her hand, but Ashish ignored it and pulled her into a hug instead. “You would’ve made a great bhabhi someday,” he said, and that, more than anything, drove it all home with an ironclad finality. She and Rishi were over.
Dimple swallowed and stepped back, smiling brightly. “Okay, I’m out. You guys are leaving tomorrow, right?”
They nodded. “Want me to help you with your suitcase?” Ashish asked, but Dimple shook her head.
Celia reached out and grabbed her in a hug again and then stepped back and put an arm around Ashish’s waist, swiping at her eyes with her free hand.
Dimple took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, determined not to shed another tear on this campus.
Rishi sat on the edge of his bed, his head bent as the phone at his parents’ house rang. It seemed a lonelier sound than usual, as if it were echoing around an empty home.
He felt like he’d been struck by a freak flare of lightning on a sunny, blue-skied day. He had not seen that coming. He’d thought maybe she was unhappy, but that it had to do with losing, with not being able to see Jenny Lindt. Rishi had no idea she . . . that Dimple . . . that she didn’t love him anymore. Had likely never loved him.
All those things she’d said—was that how she saw him? As some big coward, too afraid to stand up to his parents, too afraid to really live life? Someone who wanted to cower and be sheltered from every storm in life, someone who wanted an easy, placid, dull, nothing existence?
Was she right?
“Haan, bolo, Rishi beta!” Pappa’s happy greeting came down the line, startling him out of his cold, tumbling thoughts.
“Pappa . . .” His voice came out husky, unpolished. He cleared his throat. The words were gone.
“Rishi?” Pappa sounded a little concerned. “Kya baat hai, beta?”
“Am I making a mistake, Pappa?” he said, his voice just barely above a whisper. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a sudden surge of frustration he couldn’t explain. Rishi hopped off his bed and began to pace. In a louder voice, he continued. “I mean, MIT ? Engineering? You’re the one with a mathematical brain, not me. I couldn’t even fix the laptop when it broke last year, remember?”
There was a moment of silence, and he knew Pappa was hurrying to catch up. “But, Rishi, there are many different types of engineering degrees,” he said finally, a little wondrously. “Tumhe patta hai , you don’t have to fix computers to be an engineer. You know this.”
Rishi kicked at the foot of his desk, making the whole thing shudder. “But it’s not about fixing the laptop!” He threw his free hand up in the air. Why couldn’t his father see? “It’s . . . it’s everything. It’s my brain, Pappa. It doesn’t work like yours. I’m not interested in mathematics and business and, and everything else that you do. Do I want to spend fifty or sixty years of my life stuck at Global Comm, doing stuff that bores me now, at eighteen? I mean, what will my life look like at that point? Who will I even become if I do that?”
“But there are many good companies besides Global Comm, Rishi,” Pappa said, still sounding bewildered. “You don’t have to work here. You can go to Google—they’re progressive, na? Many young people enjoy working—”
She sat there, panting, unable to believe she’d just yelled it out at him like that. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately, her voice shaking. “I’m sorry. But I . . . this isn’t working for me anymore.”
Rishi stared at her like she’d just told him a giant meteor was headed for the Earth and there was nothing to be done about it. He walked forward on shaky legs and fell onto the bench. He stared down at his hands and then looked up at her. “How long have you known you wanted to break up?” The fog curled around his words.
“I didn’t know,” Dimple said. “I mean, I was having all these doubts weeks ago . . . but . . .” She took a deep breath. “I wasn’t really sure till a couple of days ago. When they announced the winners.”
Rishi was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “Why?”
She thought about telling him the truth for a split second: How he was too right for her, how she was afraid they’d just met too early, how she was terrified she was giving up an essential part of herself or forgetting the reasons she hadn’t wanted a relationship in the first place. But Dimple knew he’d talk her down, that he’d have a good counterargument for every one of hers. She’d end up wanting to be with Rishi again, and she didn’t want that. A clean break, that’s what she was after. “We’re too different,” she said finally, choosing a half-truth. “I can’t . . . I can’t be with someone who cares so much about what his parents want from him. You lack courage, Rishi. And I can’t be with someone like that.” She was being so cruel. But she couldn’t pull any punches. “I want so much more from my life than what you seem to want.”
He looked at her, his eyes hollow, empty, like she’d never seen them before. Her heart hurt, physically, truly hurt, but she forced herself to keep her expression firm, unmoving, as he spoke. “I’ve changed so much for you. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I have. I just wanted to be with you, Dimple. I was even willing to put aside my parents’ wishes. I was willing to follow you around the world, wherever you wanted to go, wherever your career took you. But you’re right, I don’t have the courage you seem to have to buck every tradition and just do what I want. I actually care what my parents think of me, I care about what they want.”
Anger began to simmer in Dimple’s veins, even though she knew she’d provoked him. “Are you calling me selfish?”
Rishi stood, his fingertips pressed against the table. “I’m calling you unkind. You’re right; we are too different.” He turned and walked away, the fog swallowing him whole.
CHAPTER 56
“But can’t you wait till tomorrow morning?” Celia asked. She was sprawled on her bed, her legs in Ashish’s lap. They were both exchanging worried glances that Dimple pretended not to see.
She threw her clothes in her suitcase without bothering to fold them. She’d spent the first hour after she and Rishi broke up crying alone on the bench, wrapped in the fog. But then she’d wiped her eyes, marched to her dorm room, and taken a long shower, scrubbing her hair until her scalp was raw. That’s when she’d decided she wasn’t going to wait till the next morning to leave. What would be the point?
Celia and Ashish had just walked in ten minutes ago. Dimple got the feeling Rishi had told them what happened from the very obvious way they were not asking about him. “No. I need to get out of here now.”
Ashish cleared his throat. “But what about Jenny Lindt? The meeting went well, right?”
So they had talked to Rishi. Dimple paused for a moment as the pain washed over her, but then she continued as if nothing had happened. “Our work is mainly going to be over the computer. I’ll be at Stanford in a few weeks anyway, and it isn’t too far from here. I can always make the drive.” She snapped her suitcase shut and turned around.
Celia hopped off the bed. “I’m going to miss you,” she said.
“Me too.” Dimple stepped forward, and they hugged. “But we’ll keep texting. And we’ll be driving distance apart starting in the fall.”
Celia nodded furiously, and when she stepped back, her eyes were all misty. “I feel like no matter what roommate I get now, I’m going to be disappointed,” she said. “Because it won’t be you.”
Dimple swallowed the lump in her throat. “Ditto. You know, you could change your mind and decide to transfer to Stanford. . . .”
Celia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Like they’ll ever let me in that place.”
Dimple laughed and turned to Ashish, who was standing by Celia now. He smiled down at her, but it was coated in sadness and it made her chest tighten. His eyes reminded her so much of Rishi’s, she had to blink and look away. “It was nice to meet you, Ashish,” she said, rubbing at her nose. “Thank you for your help with the talent show.”
She held out her hand, but Ashish ignored it and pulled her into a hug instead. “You would’ve made a great bhabhi someday,” he said, and that, more than anything, drove it all home with an ironclad finality. She and Rishi were over.
Dimple swallowed and stepped back, smiling brightly. “Okay, I’m out. You guys are leaving tomorrow, right?”
They nodded. “Want me to help you with your suitcase?” Ashish asked, but Dimple shook her head.
Celia reached out and grabbed her in a hug again and then stepped back and put an arm around Ashish’s waist, swiping at her eyes with her free hand.
Dimple took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, determined not to shed another tear on this campus.
Rishi sat on the edge of his bed, his head bent as the phone at his parents’ house rang. It seemed a lonelier sound than usual, as if it were echoing around an empty home.
He felt like he’d been struck by a freak flare of lightning on a sunny, blue-skied day. He had not seen that coming. He’d thought maybe she was unhappy, but that it had to do with losing, with not being able to see Jenny Lindt. Rishi had no idea she . . . that Dimple . . . that she didn’t love him anymore. Had likely never loved him.
All those things she’d said—was that how she saw him? As some big coward, too afraid to stand up to his parents, too afraid to really live life? Someone who wanted to cower and be sheltered from every storm in life, someone who wanted an easy, placid, dull, nothing existence?
Was she right?
“Haan, bolo, Rishi beta!” Pappa’s happy greeting came down the line, startling him out of his cold, tumbling thoughts.
“Pappa . . .” His voice came out husky, unpolished. He cleared his throat. The words were gone.
“Rishi?” Pappa sounded a little concerned. “Kya baat hai, beta?”
“Am I making a mistake, Pappa?” he said, his voice just barely above a whisper. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a sudden surge of frustration he couldn’t explain. Rishi hopped off his bed and began to pace. In a louder voice, he continued. “I mean, MIT ? Engineering? You’re the one with a mathematical brain, not me. I couldn’t even fix the laptop when it broke last year, remember?”
There was a moment of silence, and he knew Pappa was hurrying to catch up. “But, Rishi, there are many different types of engineering degrees,” he said finally, a little wondrously. “Tumhe patta hai , you don’t have to fix computers to be an engineer. You know this.”
Rishi kicked at the foot of his desk, making the whole thing shudder. “But it’s not about fixing the laptop!” He threw his free hand up in the air. Why couldn’t his father see? “It’s . . . it’s everything. It’s my brain, Pappa. It doesn’t work like yours. I’m not interested in mathematics and business and, and everything else that you do. Do I want to spend fifty or sixty years of my life stuck at Global Comm, doing stuff that bores me now, at eighteen? I mean, what will my life look like at that point? Who will I even become if I do that?”
“But there are many good companies besides Global Comm, Rishi,” Pappa said, still sounding bewildered. “You don’t have to work here. You can go to Google—they’re progressive, na? Many young people enjoy working—”
