My heart went out to Simran. How must it feel, to call off an engagement just a few months before the wedding? Her parents would be devastated, and she would have to bear the weight of their disappointed hopes. Parvani was getting lots of support from Nate, and me. Who - besides Par - was supporting Simran?
Maybe the last thing she needed was to hear from me. Besides - what could I possibly say?
Good choice - I never liked him anyway.
I tried to put myself in Simran's shoes, but I had absolutely no idea what she was going through.
So I bought a blank greeting card with a picture of a sun peeking through the clouds. It was important to me that there were no cheesy verses inside. I simply wrote 'Thinking of you', signed it, and mailed it.
How did I feel? Confused.
I was delighted that Simran wasn't going to marry Mr. Condescending. That meant that she was free, and so she could possibly marry me one day. Yes, I was currently dating a beautiful woman with whom I was very happy ... did I not mention that I was confused?
Two weeks later, Cherie called me to the phone, in her inimitable style: "Doofus! Telephone! It's for you!"
I picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
- "Ian? Hi - it's Simran."
- "Simran! Hey - how are you?"
She dodged the question neatly. "I'm fine. Listen, I wanted to thank you for the card. It was ... just what I needed. Thank you."
- "My pleasure, Sim." I said.
- "I really appreciated it."
I don't know why, but I said: "Hey - how about meeting me for lunch? You can talk - I'll just listen."
- "Thanks, Ian. I'm not sure if I'm in the mood for talking, though."
- "Okay. Then I'll talk, and
you
can listen." I said. "Or we can just eat."
Simran chuckled. "Alright." she said. "I give in. Mexican?"
- "Great idea." I said.
We met almost a month to the day after I had heard from Par that she had broken the engagement. Simran wasn't wearing any makeup, and she looked as if she had been through a fight. Not a boxing match - but maybe a yelling match.
It was perfectly normal for me to kiss her on the cheek when we came together. But I also gave her a warm hug - non-verbal support, you could call it.
- "You don't have to talk about it, if you'd prefer not to." I said.
- "No, it's okay." she said. "Every time I say it, or think about it, it just confirms to me one more time that I was right. You want to hear this, right?"
- "Of course. You already know whose side I'm on."
Simran nodded. "I really did appreciate your card, Ian. The only other person who hasn't questioned my decision has been my sister." She sighed.
"We had dinner - Arjun and I - with two of his professors. It was at his place, but I bought the food, and organized everything. I mean
everything.
His contribution was to shower, shave, and get himself dressed. When they arrived, I got a further preview of how he was going to treat me when we were married."
- "Bad?"
- "Like a possession. Or a useful assistant. 'Professor K. needs a refill, sweetheart.' Or 'Professor K. might want a little more dessert, Simran.'"
"And when I made
one
comment.
One.
He turned to me and said: 'We're talking macro economics, here, darling.' As in, don't interrupt - the men are talking."
"I called him on it, after they had left. He told me that they were potentially important to his career - that we had to roll out the red carpet for them. I asked him if that was all I was - a carpet. Or just important to his career. He didn't understand why I was making such a fuss."
- "Ouch."
- "You know, Ian," she said, "I always took it for granted that growing up in this country had been good for me. I got a first class education, in comfortable surroundings - and I was encouraged to believe that a woman could follow her dreams, and achieve great things."
"Arjun just didn't get it. 'You'll feel better after our first child.' - that's what he said to me. And that's when I realized that I'd been sleepwalking. How did I miss all of that?"
The first time I met Arjun, I had wished that I was older, better-looking, and smoother - more sophisticated, anyway. Me and my stupid wishes ...
- "He's an idiot, Simran." I said. "He had no idea how lucky he was. He's going to regret it some day - but
you
shouldn't."
Simran looked at me, and finally she smiled. "Thank you, Ian." she said.
***
I bought flowers for Diane. As I was climbing the stairs to her apartment. I remembered what she had said the first time I gave her a bouquet. Was I feeling guilty - subconsciously, at least? But I didn't have anything to feel guilty about, did I?
- "Ooh - flowers! What did you do?" she joked.
I couldn't help it: I blushed. Diane wisely let the matter drop.
Thinking about it gave me a headache. I had a crush on Simran long before I had even met Diane. Was it realistic to expect an attraction to simply vanish, now that I had a girlfriend? I wasn't going to act on it - I would never cheat on her. So why did I feel this way?
Diane was extremely busy at work. She was trying to impress her boss, of course, and she adopted a 'first to arrive, last to leave' strategy. I was afraid that we were going to slip back into the pattern of last spring, when I only saw her on weekends.
So I made every effort to meet her for lunch, whenever she could take a break, and when my schedule permitted. I also found events, like musical performances, or special screenings, that were happening only on weeknights. If it was a 'special' occasion, Diane would sometimes break her own rule and come out with me.
I also dropped by her office several times, and made myself pleasant to her boss, Theresa. You never knew - it might come in handy.
There was my own work to consider, too. Fourth year was fairly demanding. I had tons of reading to do. Mondays and Wednesdays, when I had Dr. Welsh's class, were highlights. And Thursday night had become our fairly regular D&D game. It was also guaranteed time with Nate and Parvani, and Coop.
Weekends were for taking Diane out - and for staying in, too. The sex we had was still excellent (at least, I thought so). But I wanted us to have a social life together, to meet with friends ... despite my own inclination to take her to bed at every opportunity.
I met her brother, Mike. Nice guy, but we had very little in common, other than sports. Her girlfriends, Gabby and Kelly, were lively, and talkative - Gabby, in particular, certainly lived up to her name - but they were disco girls.
They liked to dress up every weekend, pile on the warpaint, and go dancing at a club where the drinks were overpriced and the music was non-stop, too loud - and too disco. Afterwards, I got to drive them all home, if I had Dad's car. If Gabby was driving, she would drop me off at Diane's.
That's when it all seemed worth the wait - when Diane would take the heels off, and I gave her feet a little massage, which would lead to a massage a little higher up, and I would get my hands and lips on her lovely breasts, and then ...
