One Indian Girl(64)

‘It’s okay, crap happens in life. Mostly it’s for the good,’ Neel said.

‘More champagne, sir?’ the waiter said as he picked up our second empty bottle.

‘Actually, no. I am pretty. . .’ Neel said as I interrupted him.

‘Actually, yes. We’d like another one,’ I said.

‘Really?’ Neel said, looking at me as the waiter left.

‘Well, I have told you a lot about me. We still have to cover you. We need a drink for that.’

Neel shrugged and smiled.

‘Okay, bring it on,’ he said. ‘What’s your read on me, as a person?’

‘Well,’ I said, resting my left palm on my glass. ‘You are a bit of an enigma.’

‘Enigma?’

‘Yeah, mysterious. You are smart, clearly an overachiever. Fit, good-looking, charming.’

‘I could get used to this. Go on,’ Neel said.

‘But. . .’ I said.

‘But what?’

‘I don’t know if you are truly happy. You should be, right? You have everything the world aspires for, right? But you don’t seem truly happy.’

‘I am happy. Look at me. Being paid to be on an island.’

‘Yeah, you get paid. A lot. But that’s not all it takes to be happy.’

He didn’t respond. He looked searchingly at me.

‘What makes you think I am not happy?’ he said slowly.

‘I feel you put on a mask. This perfect mask. Hard-working family man, controls his diet, exercises regularly. It’s almost too perfect. Like your perfectly ironed shirts, there isn’t an out-of-place crease. You know what they say in due diligence, right?’

‘What?’

‘If it is too good to be true, it probably is too good to be true,’ I said.

He looked at me, his eyes wide in surprise. He put his glass down.

‘Did I cross the line?’ I said, a little anxious.

He shook his head.

‘No, no. It’s okay. What else makes you feel this way?’

‘You never talk about your family.’

‘I do. I told you. Kusum. My two kids.’

‘Factual stuff.’

‘Meaning?’

‘It’s like data. No feelings.’

‘Okay,’ Neel said. ‘Wow. You learn something every day. So that’s what you think about me.’

‘I am sorry if I said something inappropriate.’

‘No, it’s cool,’ he said and smiled.

The waiter cleared our dinner plates. He brought us mango with sticky rice as dessert. I cut a piece of mango with my knife and ate it with a fork.

‘Your wife is happy for all your success?’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ Neel said, after some deliberation. ‘She is. We have been together twenty years. She has seen my entire journey.’

‘Twenty years? Wow, so you guys met when I was five,’ I said.

‘Ouch!’ Neel grinned. ‘Now you make me feel really old.’

‘What is it like being married for so long?’ I said.

‘It’s nice. You build a life together, a lot of memories together. You bring kids into this world.’

‘Yeah, does sound beautiful.’

‘And yet, because you have been with a person so long, it doesn’t stay the same. Issues crop up. Many issues. Many, many issues.’

I sensed Neel had stuff bottled up.

‘Okay. Well, you can talk about it if you want,’ I said.

‘I am not going to bore you. I don’t have an exciting story with iPhones being thrown off the Brooklyn Bridge. Just stupid domestic stuff.’

‘Hey, I had an old iPhone. I would have upgraded to a new model anyway.’

Both of us laughed.

‘You are funny,’ he said.

We finished our meal.

‘I ate too much,’ I said.

‘Me too. Let’s take a walk?’

‘Another walk? You are Mr Hyperactive, aren’t you?’ I said.

He grinned. He picked up a flashlight—there was one on every table. I lifted two glasses and the unfinished third bottle of champagne.

‘What?’ Neel said.

‘We will take this along,’ I said.

‘Kind of defeats. . .’ Neel said and I nudged him.

‘Come,’ I said. We walked barefoot on the same route as our jog a couple of hours ago. However, the island took on a new form in the darkness. The trees appeared pitch black, as did the sea. I could see white streaks where the waves broke, due to the phosphorescence and the moonlight. We walked close to the shore this time. The water lapped at our feet, warm on our ankles. Neel’s flashlight showed us the way. We walked in silence, with no sound apart from the splashing waves. The lack of conversation didn’t seem awkward. In fact, it seemed perfect. I spoke after a while.

‘You must be tired,’ I said. ‘You ran five rounds.’

‘A little bit,’ Neel said but walked on.

We reached the northern tip of the island, which had a C-shaped alcove. The waves became gentle here and made no sound. Rock formations on the beach jutted out of the sand. At a distance we could see fishing boats as nearby islanders went out for a night’s catch.

‘Can we sit for a bit?’ I said.