One Indian Girl(41)

‘I hope you feel better,’ Jon said as I wiped my face.

I nodded.

‘Listen, I am not going to tell you what to do. However, you do know how much we value you,’ Jon said.

‘Yeah,’ I said, staring at the glass before me to avoid eye contact.

‘So if there is anything we can do to keep you. . . If you need a long break or time off, anything. . .’

I shook my head.

‘What next?’ Jon said.

‘I have no idea. Leave New York. Maybe go home.’

‘You want to tell me what the issue is?’ Jon said.

I kept silent.

‘Sorry, it’s not my place to ask. You don’t have to tell me. Just wanted to help if I could.’

‘I can’t be in New York,’ I said.

‘Okay. Do you need to be someplace specific?’

‘No. Just not New York. Too much baggage.’

Jon nodded, leaning back on his ergonomic Herman Miller chair.

‘A relationship ended. I didn’t realize I was this attached. Or it would hurt so much.’

‘Hmm. . .’

Jon was probably wondering how his favourite associate could be so foolish as to leave a job and a city over a guy.

‘Now every corner of Manhattan reminds me of him,’ I said.

‘You could always move to Brooklyn,’ he said and smiled, pointing to the window.

He looked at me. Of course his joke had not worked.

‘He lives in Brooklyn now,’ I said in a plain voice.

‘Sorry, sorry. I was just being funny. Didn’t work, obviously,’ Jon said.

‘You probably think I am insane. To throw away a career for a guy. That too a guy who is not with me anymore.’

‘I don’t judge people. And I know you are not insane.’

‘Thanks, Jon. Anyway, I want to thank you. I have had a wonderful experience. . .’ I said as he interrupted me.

‘Wait. How about we keep you? But we transfer you?’

‘Transfer?’

‘To another office within the group.’

‘Where?’

‘Wherever we have offices. Your last deal was that China one, right?’

‘Yeah. Luxvision.’

‘So that deal needs to be monitored until we exit. You could do it from Hong Kong. That will get you started. Plus, find new deals there. Asia is growing.’

‘Hong Kong?’ I said.

‘That’s as far as it gets from New York by the way, on this planet,’ he said and smiled.

‘You are saying I could transfer to distressed debt in Hong Kong?’ I said.

‘I could make some calls,’ Jon said. ‘See if they can accommodate.’

Jon was being modest; a partner of his stature calling the Hong Kong office meant they would oblige him in a second.

‘I know nothing about Hong Kong.’

‘Lots of Chinese people,’ Jon said. ‘Seems like a fun place from what I have seen during my travels.’

‘I already submitted my resignation. I sent you an email.’

‘I have already deleted it,’ Jon said, clicking a button on his computer mouse.

Both of us smiled.

‘Thank you, Jon. Thank you so much.’

‘I will call Neel. He is the partner there. You know him?’ Jon said.

‘Not much. He did a session during associate training, right?’

‘Smart guy. I will talk to him. How soon can you move?’

‘When is the next flight?’





17


‘JFK, please,’ I said to the cab driver.

I sat in a yellow cab to the airport. It was almost 5 in the evening. Finally, the movers had left and I had surrendered the keys to my Tribeca apartment.

My new job offer had come through, with only one brief call with Neel as an interview. Given Jon’s recommendation, Neel said this was a formality and more a ‘welcome to Hong Kong’ call. Human Resources sent me a new offer. Given the high rents in Hong Kong, they added a housing allowance of 60,000 dollars a year to my base salary.

I had decided to quit and go back to West Delhi with a zero salary. Maybe I would have yielded to my mother’s badgering about getting married. I should have been serving tea and mithai in trays to prospective grooms. Instead, I had a welcome brochure from the Goldman Sachs Asia-Pacific Relocation Group in my hand. I might not have love in my life, but I did have Uncle Goldman Sachs taking care of me. The brochure said I would be staying at the Shangri-La Hotel in Hong Kong until I found a new apartment.

The cab passed the Tweed Courthouse near the Manhattan side entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge. From a distance, I could see the skyscrapers of the Financial District. Even though I had wanted to get out of New York at the earliest, I felt a tinge of regret. I had become attached to the city of my firsts—first job, first boyfriend, first independent home and, well, first break-up.

‘Could you stop here for a second, please?’ I said as the cab reached the bridge.

The driver slowed down the cab.

‘Can I walk across the bridge? You can meet me on the other side.’

‘The entire bridge? That will take you half an hour.’

‘I have time. Can I have your number?’

He gave me a business card with his name and number.