I knew that I’d said yes because a moment later he was slipping the ring onto my finger and smothering me with kisses. I assumed the dizziness that followed was the result of some engagement-triggered chemical release in my brain. And I decided the best thing to do was to try to stay calm until things came back into focus. Why ruin the moment for Raj? It was fine. I was happy. Everything was fantastic. Really.
Until he said it. Tucking my hand into the bend of his arm, he took a deep breath and exhaled those fateful words: Monica Shah. The air was gone. The world stopped spinning. It was as if I had watched while the door to some small, previously unnecessary room was swung tightly shut. It didn’t slam, and it didn’t squeak. It simply slid closed, bolted itself tight and refused to entertain the idea of being reopened. Perhaps my own last name had crawled inside, and was packed away neatly in a cardboard box marked “Things I’ll Never See Again.” Maybe it had been greeted by what little connection I had left to my father, since Indians always believed that after marriage, a daughter no longer belongs to her birth family. It was possible that my detachment to being engaged was a defense mechanism against the idea of my former self being jailed away. None of this had anything to do with Raj, I reminded myself, and went about playing the role of the blushing fiancée.
But the next morning I awoke with his arm around my neck in what for the first time felt so much more like a thick rope than a bear hug. I tried to keep it to myself. I slipped out of bed and into the shower. However, in the time it took to shower and get wrapped in towels, I had realized exactly what I had to do. And I probably should have waited until the room service delivery guy had left before blurting it out, but…
I won’t give up my last name, I declared, for myself or my future children.
To his credit, Raj tipped and dismissed the confused delivery guy before responding to me.
Good morning to you, too, he replied, and collapsed into a seat before the beautiful breakfast spread. Okay, look, baby. I can understand you wanting to keep your last name, and I’m willing to talk about that. But on the topic of the children I think I am a bit more traditional.
Being an adult, I narrowed my eyes and dug my heels in further: Trust me, Raj. If this is going to be about who’s more stubborn, you’re not going to win. You’re not gonna negotiate your way through this one with me. So don’t even try it.
How can you be so unreasonable? He had gotten flustered. You aren’t even prepared to discuss it! Am I going to be a part of this marriage?
The thing about me is, I don’t tolerate weakness well—in men or animals. It’s the lawyer in me I’m sure, but basically I think that if you’re dragging the pack down, you should probably be shot or left behind. That’s why I reacted so…poorly. I knew it was a bad idea even as I did it…called him the adjective to end all adjectives: melodramatic.
That was the day I learned that even though both parties are usually well-aware of who’s more emotionally involved, nobody wants it announced out loud. Whereas a woman would have taken it as an observation, a man hears it roughly translated as: you’re the woman.
I might have tried to smooth things over, but his silence on the drive back to Los Angeles gave me no choice but to twist the knife. If this was how we were going to start our married life, I reasoned, then I had to set a precedent. So I slipped the ring off my finger and onto a chain around my neck, and it had remained there ever since. Later that night we agreed that we didn’t want to fight; everything didn’t need to be settled in a day.
Mistakenly, I assumed that refilling both of our wine glasses was Raj’s way of putting an end to our Mexican standoff over Thai food that night.
Thank God for reliable Raj, who never ever let things spin too far out of control.
“Actually, I have some news.” He spoke in between shoveling heaping spoonfuls of chili-doused pad thai into his mouth. “McKinsey has offered me a one-month assignment in London. They requested that I be on the team since I worked with this client on another project a few years back.”
“Mmm-hmm…” I played along, tipping back my glass and dropping my shoulders a bit. “And when would it start?”
“I could leave as early as tomorrow or as late as next week.”
“Oh.” I rubbed my ring between my thumb and forefinger, concentrating hard on the plate before me.
“A client requesting someone specifically is always good news, so it might even lead to a promotion if I can get enough visibility for the project. Could you imagine if it turned into a full-time offer?”
I’ll admit it. I actually laughed out loud. Through a mouthful of green coconut curry.
He glanced up without moving his head.
“Oh, yeah,” I joked, “because this is the 1920s and all women have to quit their jobs and follow their men across the ocean.”
“So you wouldn’t even consider it?” He spat out the words and his nostrils literally flared. Not sexy. A little scary, actually.
“Well, I mean…come on…” I was quite the articulate litigator. “It’s not really an option. They haven’t made you an offer, so we’re talking hypothetically here.”
“And you won’t even consider it hypothetically?” he asked, sucking at his teeth.
“Raj,” I said.
“Monica, has this whole thing always just been about you?”
“No, of course not.”
“I knew what I was getting into when we became friends. Partially this is my fault because our friendship was based on me helping you talk about losing your dad. And it was understandable when we started dating that the focus was originally going to be on you. But I always thought that…in time…in time, things might change. They might become more equal. But they haven’t, Monica. And I don’t know if that’s because of how I allowed this relationship to center around you, or if it’s because that’s who you are.”
“I resent that,” I began, but then stopped when he held up a hand.
“Oh, crikey!” He choked and dropped his fork, pushed his chair back and rose to his feet.
I was actually shaken by the sound of his yell. Never before had I heard him raise his voice.
“There’s sodding peanuts in the goddamn pad thai, Monica!” he said laughingly in disgust, while he shook his head. “And I just lost my appetite.”
He stomped straight into the bedroom, leaving me alone to think about what I had done. He didn’t help me clear the table, and he didn’t face me that night as we slept. When I awoke in the morning, he was gone.
His text message from the airport read:
Decided to leave this morning. Will be in London for at least two weeks.
We need a break anyway. This may be good timing.
It was cold, to the point, and exactly what I deserved. Not at all like him. For the first time since we had gotten together, I thought maybe he wasn’t the one with more skin in the game.
And I haven’t heard another word from him since.
All right, maybe you can never be certain of anything. But I am at least as certain that I am heterosexual as I am that some hot teen-queen celebutante under the age of thirty will one day make use of Steel’s promise that After your first four divorce proceedings, the fifth one’s on the house!
Still, even I couldn’t help staring at the buxom Angelina Jolie look-alike wiggling