Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Sighing, I do as she says and finally look at her.
She points to my shades and I reluctantly push them up.
Then, she asks, “Why?”
“Because I want to. Because I think it’s the right decision for me,” I say.
“Right decision,” she repeats.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Saying yes to his ultimatum is the right decision for you?” she asks again.
“You know, you can ask it a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. My answer is not going to change.”
“Explain it to me then,” she pushes.
“Because I want to move on, okay? It’s high time, don’t you think? I should move on with my life. It’s been a year, and it hasn’t happened yet. And it’s not going to happen ever. So I’m getting smart.”
I sit back and slurp my drink from the straw.
Because I think she should be happy after what I’ve told her.
For the past two weeks, ever since the charity event, I’ve been thinking about what to do. How to tell Shepard the truth. If I should tell Shepard the truth. In between rehearsals, classes, homework that I mostly neglect in favor of rehearsals—because hey, we’re finally doing a show and I got the lead role—I came to the decision that if I say yes to his ultimatum, there’s no need to tell Shepard anything.
When I decided that, I knew I’d have to tell my biji because I tell her everything. And I knew if I went the self-care route, she’d be totally on board.
My biji is a big believer in self-happiness.
She thinks the first thing and the most important thing that you could do in life is love yourself and care for yourself. Go after what you really want and what your heart desires.
I guess it comes from living in a society and time where women weren’t valued all that much. Where they didn’t have a voice. My biji was never given a choice on what to do with her life—be an actress; or where to go—she always wanted to travel, but she lived the majority of her life in a very small village in Punjab; who to marry—she says she was in love with this guy in town, but she never had the chance to tell him before she was married off at the ripe old age of sixteen to my dada ji. Although she did eventually fall in love with Dada ji, it was very hard for her in the beginning and it made her feel suffocated.
“And there’s no other reason?” she inquires.
I keep my eyes on the TV. “Absolutely not. As I said, it’s the right decision. Shepard is the right guy for me.”
“Is he?”
“Yes.” I begin counting on my fingers. “One, he’s amazing. He’s funny and he makes me laugh. I never feel awkward around him. Or shy. I never blush like I’m some innocent who’s never heard the F-word. I’ve heard it. I’ve said it. I’ve never done it, but so what? It’s disgusting when I blush over it.
“Two, he’s easy to talk to. It’s not like I’m pulling teeth while I’m talking to him. He answers my questions. He doesn’t hide things from me or act like he’s so superior and condescending. Three, he’s kind. He doesn’t insult me or humiliate me or make me cry. And yes, he’s not that into plays and books and acting, and he kinda gets bored when I tell him about the scene we’re workshopping or the character I’m trying to nail down. But that’s okay. Not everyone’s going to be interested in art and theater. But despite all that, he supports my dreams. But most of all, Biji, he wants me. He wants to be with me. He likes me. He likes me so much that he gave me an ultimatum, okay? And for the first time in my life, I’d like to be with someone who wants me back and not chase after them and their love and approval like I’ve always done. There. Are you finally happy now?”
Okay, after this, she should definitely be happy.
Everything I’ve said is true.
Shepard is amazing. He does make me laugh. Exhibit A: he made me laugh at the charity event when everything felt so awkward and heavy. He is easy to talk to. Exhibit B: He confessed about his twin ritual the first time we’d met. Our conversation flew even when we were strangers. Whenever I talk to him, it’s not like I’m trying to bang my head against a wall, trying to get information about him. He laughs with me. I don’t have to rack my brain to come up with the last time he cracked a smile. He jokes around and his jokes aren’t mocking. They aren’t condescending.
And it’s a good thing that he doesn’t make me blush or make my heart race. Who wants to live with perpetually flushed skin and a pounding heart? It’s like walking on tightrope all the time.