Authors: Carol Jackson
The
girl whose name was Julie.
The Hindi word for flower is phul.
On
a day no different to any other, I entered McAllister and Company, Accountants.
“Good
Morning,” I announced cheerily to Gillian.
“Hiya
Julie,” was her bubbly reply as she handed over the stationery list she had
prepared for the company’
s
office
requirements.
Gillian
was, unequivocally, the ultimate ‘80’s Kiwi chick – a cross between Kylie
Minogue and Cindy Lauper - bright lipstick, teased hair with frosted
highlights, a big smile and even bigger shoulder pads.
Once a month Gillian and I met in the
boardroom and went over any changes in McAllister and Co.’s stationery
requirements and we discussed the new products that were displayed in
O.S.W.’
s glossy catalogues. One or two
of the accountants often joined us to see what was new in the world of
stationery. To be honest, I
had
noticed the
Indian accountant
,
Kishore
attending the boardroom meetings more than any of the other staff. I assumed as
he was
new to the country and
the youngest member of the team,
he sat
in
with us to learn more about the products in the
range or to see how the system here works.
Little
did I know Kishore was secretly waiting for the right moment to approach me to
let me know what was
truly
on his mind and
it certainly wasn’t
paperclips.
Today
was not one of those meeting days, I had called in only to collect the
stationery list. As I stood talking to Gillian, Linda came over to say hello.
She wore glasses, a professional grey women’s business suit and her hair was
cut short in a trendy easy to manage style. Despite her business-like
appearance, she was easy to approach.
I
had chatted to her a few times but
I
didn’t know her
that well, so I was surprised when she said, “Julie would you like to join me
for a coffee?” I was ready for a drink and liked to network - you never know, I
thought, I might make a sale.
I
remember very well the last time I had spoken to Linda, it was the day Gillian
had invited me to join the staff to celebrate Linda’s promotion. It was a
memorable day, because I had just found out that morning Andrew and Tanya were
expecting their first baby. I was going to be an Aunty, I was so happy! The
smile I wore from ear to ear never left my face that whole day. I only stayed
briefly at the celebration knowing I had a lot of clients to visit, after
congratulating Linda on her promotion I quickly left.
Today,
as Linda and I entered the lunchroom it was empty. I immediately noticed a
bunch of pink carnations that were sitting in a vase on the table, I exclaimed,
“Oh aren’t they sweet!” Linda agreed and we got ourselves a drink, sat at the
table, sipped our coffees and talked about her role at McAllister and Co
.
now that she had settled into her promotion.
Before
t
o
o long she had to go back to work but I decided to
stay a few more minutes to fill out my order forms. My head was bent over my
papers when Kishore entered the room. Raising my head, I smiled politely, of
course I recognised him, I knew his name but didn’t know him well enough to
talk to - we had only exchanged a few courteous hellos or spoken briefly about
work matters.
I continued working.
Though
eventually, I felt his eyes upon me. Looking up, I saw Kishore standing over me
- suddenly he thrust a flower towards me. Feeling my face blush from my neck to
my forehead I took it from him
,
I was stunned,
“
What’s this?” I asked in surprise. He was unable to answer
because just at that moment Linda returned as she
had
apparently
forgotten something.
She tried to digest just what was going on as
Kishore brushed
past her making a quick exit, I was glad she decided not to say anything to
me…I was incapable of answering. Although she did sum up the situation pretty
quickly, she was an accountant after all, she glanced towards the door Kishore
had just gone through, then back at me and back towards Kishore.
‘Kishore
and Julie, who would have thought?’ she wondered. Looking at me again, sitting
like a possum caught in
a
cars headlights
she made her decision. While muttering to herself, “Well, Linda my dear, it
seems it is up to you,” she spun around and ran after him.
Catching up with Kishore at his office door,
Linda asked, “Why did you give Julie a flower?”
He
didn’t answer but she didn’t give up and her next question happened to be the
right one, “Do you like Julie?”
His
eyes were firmly locked on a thread on the carpet but she heard a quiet but
definite, “Yes.”
“Do
you want me to ask Julie for her phone number?”
Again
Kishore mumbled a quiet but clear, “Yes.”
After
accomplishing the first part of her mission Linda decided to take charge and do
the right thing.
“Okay,
Kishore I’ll be the matchmaker if you like,” she chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’ll
talk to Julie.”
Linda
returned to the lunchroom, where I was still sitting like a dazed possum,
staring at the flower. She pulled out a chair opposite me and sat down.
“So?”
“So
what?” I replied.
“So,
what do you think?”
“What
do I think about what?”
“Juuuuuulie!”
Linda knew full well I was deliberately stalling. “Kishore, Julie, what do you
think of Kishore? Do you like him, would you go out with him?”
Linda
was right, I was trying to gain some time to analyse the situation. My first
thought, in the few minutes since Linda had left was ‘Who on earth does this
guy think he is? Giving me a flower, me!’ Then, ‘Well
,
it was kind of a nice gesture, no guy has ever given me a flower before.’ I
twirled the pink carnation between my fingers and glanced at the flowers in the
vase on the lunch table. A light bulb came on in my head, did this guy just
make a romantic gesture by giving a girl a flower straight from a cafeteria
lunch table? It was so cheeky that I could not help but smile.
I
put the flower to my nose and breathed in its fragrance as I thought to myself
- an Indian, this guy is Indian! If the giving of this flower leads to a date,
would I actually consider going out with an Indian man?
What
would my parents think? It just wasn’t done, was it? It was practically unheard
of, a person of one race having a relationship with a person from another race,
was I bold enough to be
that
person? Could I be capable of going against what
was deemed right and proper? But then who were
they
to deem what was right and proper? As I sat there
in confusion,
these thoughts jumbled and tumbled
around in my head like a washing machine set on ‘spin.'
I
knew without a doubt
from an inkling growing inside me,
while looking at that flower,
that my answer
to Linda would not be ‘no.’ As Linda stared at me waiting for a reply, I knew I
could do it, it felt, well, right. I was going to take the plunge. I turned to
her and with my heart racing, tried to speak but all that came out of my mouth
was, “Ummm.”
“Go
on,” she said. “Really Julie, what have you got to lose?”
True,
what did I have to lose?
Knowing I was
taking a big step,
I
tore a piece of paper from my notepad and wrote down my home phone number and
gave it to Linda. With a huge smile of achievement on her face Linda trotted
back to Kishore’s office and handed him the piece of paper.
The Hindi word for girl is
lardakee.
Kishore
had been in the photocopying/faxing room and was heading back down the hall to
his office when he caught sight of Julie and Linda on their way towards the
lunchroom.
Was
this his chance?
He
decided he’d spent more than enough time thinking about her and trying to pluck
up the courage to talk to her and he couldn’t think of any more lame excuses as
to why he should join Julie and Gillian in the boardroom.
Every
time Julie walked past him, smelling undeniably of vanilla musk, he’d been
stuck for something to say, which he felt made him look silly in her eyes. If
he did find the words they were only silly, blabbering outpourings.
If
something wasn’t done soon then his chance would slip by. Today was the day and
this was the time, he was sure of it.
He
knew what he felt called for desperate measures but what?
With
his empty mug in his hand, at least it would look like he had a motive, he
convinced himself to go to the lunchroom. It was just his luck Linda was coming
out. It was now or never, he could feel it in his bones, he couldn’t lose his
courage and talk himself out of it again.
Julie
looked so sweet sitting at the lunch table with her head bent over her work,
her hair shimmering, like flames dancing in a fire. As she glanced up and
smiled at him
,
it gave him the courage to go on. Kishore felt his
heart beating rapidly in his chest as he stealthily picked up one of the
carnations from the vase on the table. Feeling sick with nerves, he gave the
flower a quick flick to shake it free of any water, thrust
it
towards her and managed a smile.
Just
as Julie raised her head, saw the flower and took it from him, Linda came back
into the lunchroom. Kishore, like a stunned deer, retreated as fast as he
could, half running down the hall, he just arrived at his office door when
Linda caught up with him. He was glad she did. If it were left up to him, well,
he would probably still be trying to pluck up the courage to talk to Julie.
Linda, acting like the boss she was, drilled Kishore as to why he gave Julie
the flower. He could only manage to answer a tiny ‘yes’ in answer to Linda’s
questions but in his head it was a different situation, the reply he was
desperate to shout was,
“
YES! THIS COULD BE MY ONLY
CHANCE, PLEASE GO NOW AND GET HER PHONE NUMBER, HURRY!”
He
believed, as a man, if a girl gives you her phone number it constituted as a
‘yes’ - yes she would go out with you. She wouldn’t give her number to just
anyone, would she?
As
Kishore entered his office to wait for Linda’s return, he felt pretty wound up
and his heart was beating far too fast. He couldn’t sit so he paced backwards
and forwards, taking his handkerchief from his pocket
,
he wiped his sticky palms and forehead, the anticipation was far too great.
After an extremely long ten minutes, Linda finally came back with a triumphant
smile on her face - she was clutching a slip of paper in her hand.
As
Kishore took it from her, he felt
so happy,
it was
as
if he had just been handed the Nobel peace prize, He wanted to jump up and down
with joy but he managed to control himself long enough to thank Linda once or
twice or ten times over. As he opened the paper and peered down at Julie’s
phone number written in her loopy handwriting, he knew a whole new chapter in
his life was about to start.