You Were My Crush: Till You Said You Love Me! (10 page)

I sat there in my car and waited for her outside her college; I didn’t think she would agree to see me without her sister but she did. I was ecstatic and nervous. The wait was long, painful and nerve-racking. She exited her college campus and our eyes locked. As she walked and smiled shyly, as she looked at me, I had to remind myself to keep breathing. I wish I had learned a few lines written by any French poet to describe to her how pretty she was, and probably impress her, but she knew I was an illiterate buffoon.

‘Hi,’ she said as I opened the door for her.

‘Hi,’ I repeated, voice barely escaping my throat.

‘Don’t you have a smaller car? This attracts way too much attention,’ she complained.

‘Umm, I think you attract more attention than the car,’ I said.

‘You never stop flirting, do you?’

I shook my head. I noticed that every time I complimented her she would curl up into a ball and be embarrassed about it, and then she would smile.

She did not have much time on her hands, and we were together just for the time it took for me to drive her home.

‘I’m so embarrassed that you read my poems, Benoy. You must think I am some depressed widow or something,’ she said.

‘Not at all. I told you I really like them,’ I said. ‘I think you’re just fishing for compliments.’

‘No, I am not,’ she said. ‘Are you this sweet to everybody?’

‘Not really, I just prepare my speeches for you.’

‘Stop being so sweet to me, Benoy. You should try your speeches on someone else. I am really not looking to date anyone right now,’ she conceded, and looked out of the car window, sad, like the protagonists of her tragic poems.

‘Why is that? Am I that undateable?’

‘No, with this big car and stuff, you are way too dateable. I am sure you’re a heartbreaker,’ she said.

‘I will never do that,’ I said, ‘to you.’

‘You never give up, do you?’

I shook my head.

‘It was nice meeting you today, Benoy,’ she said as we reached close to her apartment.

‘The pleasure was all mine.’

We shook hands and got off the car. She walked away from me, and it seemed like the world came to an abrupt end.

I called her as soon as I got home; it was desperate but I couldn’t help calling her.

‘You need to stop calling me, Benoy.’

‘Hello, nice to talk to you too,’ I said.

‘If Diya finds out about this, she will kill you.’ She chuckled.

‘Let’s kill her first then?’ I suggested.

‘Wait. Let me just do that,’ she said and added after a pause, ‘okay, done.’

‘So did you kill her?’ I asked her.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘She did struggle a little, but I was stronger than her. I made it look like an accident. She slipped on the bar of soap and landed head first on the butcher’s knife. I am sure no one will suspect foul play. It’s the perfect murder.’

‘You’re deliciously entertaining, Shaina,’ I said.

‘Um, Benoy. I had wanted this for long. So I was already slowly poisoning her. But, today I couldn’t take it any more. So, I just used the kitchen knife.’

‘You know that you’re totally random, Shaina? Right?’

‘I know,’ she said and laughed.

‘I just called to tell you that I really liked seeing you today,’ I confessed.

‘I liked seeing you today too. The best part was when I got out of the car and I turned around a blind corner and I could see you, but you couldn’t see me. I really liked that,’ she conceded. ‘Hey? Can you hold on for a bit? I need to get inside my blanket …

‘Okay, I am back,’ she whispered. ‘I hope you can hear me.’

‘It works for me,’ I said and found myself whispering too.

‘You can speak normally, Benoy, unless of course, you have someone sleeping beside you too.’

‘Not really, but if I whisper like this, it will make me feel that I am there with you,’ I said.

‘I don’t know what to say to that. You have all the arsenal to have girls running after you,’ she responded.

‘They don’t work on you,’ I said, despondent. ‘What will work on you?’

‘Stop trying on me. Don’t you think I deserve better?’ She chuckled. ‘Ohh, call waiting,’ she said and switched to the other call before I could say anything. I waited for fifteen minutes and then cut the call. It took Shaina about half an hour to call me back.

‘Are you sleeping?’ she asked. ‘I’m sorry. It was an important call. Did I take too much time?’

‘Thirty-four minutes.’

‘You were counting?’

‘Every second,’ I said, trying hard not to sound pissed off.

‘I’m really sorry. You shouldn’t have waited,’ she murmured.

‘I can’t help but wait.’

‘Please don’t be sweet to me, Benoy. You scare me.’

‘Scare you?’

‘You know you’re charming and cute, but we need to maintain our distance,’ she explained.

‘Who was it?’ I asked on an impulse, wondering why she always pushed me away saying things like that.

‘Manoj.’

‘Ohh, he is not dead
yet
? Last heard, they were looking for coffins his size.’

‘Stop being so mean to him. He isn’t that old.’

‘Okay, but you have booked a seat in the old-age home, right?’

‘Shut up!’

‘But what is he doing hitting on someone half his age? Well, I forgive him! Anyone would hit on you!’

‘See, there you go again.’

‘With what?’ I asked.

‘Stop flirting with me! I have a hard time explaining to Mom why I smile so much these days.’

‘That sounds good.’ I beamed.

‘I don’t like you making me smile!’ she said.

‘You do the same to me!’

We talked for an hour, tucked inside our blankets, whispering into our phones, as if we were together, she and I, hiding from the world.

The late-night talks with Shaina became a daily routine. But sometimes it was distressing because I had to fight for her time with Manoj Nagpal, the old creep in her friend list. And I was not winning the fight. Anyway, that day I was supposed to meet Diya. It had been a few days and we had not talked or met.

I missed her, but I missed her sister more. Yeah, yeah, I am an asshole. So what! Everybody loves their crushes/girlfriends more than their friends. I was no different!

‘Someone’s got too busy!’ Diya said as I walked up to her.

‘Me? No? You are the one who’s busy giving interviews.’

‘I don’t have a wealthy father, Benoy. What was the last thing he bought you? A helicopter?’ she teased me.

‘Haw! That’s just unfair.’

‘I wasn’t serious. But I have to give these interviews. Otherwise, my profile would look so empty,’ she said.

‘Anyway, where is Eshaan? Didn’t he have his interview, too?’

‘Yes, he did. But he had to rush home. He is always so busy,’ she said, irritably.

‘You seem upset that he’s busy! What’s up between you two? Something that I should know?’ I said, grinning stupidly.

‘Benoy, I really don’t think of Eshaan like that.’

‘But he does. He really likes you.’

‘I can’t worry about relationships right now. My father is a feudal lord,’ she said.

‘That’s like the worst joke ever. And who said relationships and careers don’t go hand in hand? Both of you love your books! Economics! And God knows what all! This is so meant to be.’

‘If you like him so much, Benoy, why don’t you date him? Stop pestering me about him.’

‘Fine, I won’t,’ I said. ‘Anyway, how’s Shaina?’

‘She is good, why?’

‘Just like that. She ever mentions me?’

‘You? Why would she mention you? I have said this before, I am saying this now, and I will keep saying this … you don’t have to think about her. She is my sister. There are millions out there. Go after them!’

‘But, I—’

‘No buts. I said it. And that’s final.’

I wished there was some way I could tell Diya that my feelings for her sister were genuine. Shaina and I had now gone on three dates. And I had to lie to Diya every time we had gone out. It wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

I had been counting hours. It happened every time Shaina and I had to meet. The nervousness, the confusion about what I should wear, the insecurity about my hair, new pimples … it made me feel like a little girl.

‘Hey!’ I said as I spotted her. She wore a bright red kurta, with jeans that hugged her shapely legs. She wore flip-flops; she looked just the kind who would go watch Spanish art movies alone and write depressing poems that people would discuss years after she’s gone.

‘You look awesome,’ I said.

‘Thank you. You look great too,’ she said.

‘Where do you want to go?’ I asked, half expecting her to drag me to a library or a museum.

‘We need to talk,’ she said.

She sounded serious and we picked a place that was quiet and serious. It was very unlike Shaina, but I was positive. Maybe I would get to tell her today how much
I loved her; I had practised the speech a million times in my head.

‘I talked to your sister yesterday,’ I said to Shaina as she fiddled with her phone.

‘My sister? Why?’

‘I didn’t tell her anything. I just asked about you. She doesn’t even want me to be in the same universe as you.’

‘Then stop trying, Benoy,’ she said. ‘She loves me too much. And she would never approve of you. She never likes guys around me, Benoy.’

‘But why? Why is she so stuck up? It’s not as if she has never dated anyone,’ I said, frustrated. ‘Does she know about the other guys in your life? Like Manoj?’

‘Okay, whatever. We are not talking about him.’

‘Why not! You dated
him
?’

‘I don’t want to talk about him. Can you respect that?’ she asked. Not wanting to anger her, I stayed silent. ‘Manoj is smart and he is really mature. Diya approves of him.’

‘I thought we weren’t talking about him,’ I grumbled, rage coursing through my body.

An awkward silence hung around us.

‘Umm, Benoy, I really like you, but we have to stop this,’ she said.

‘Stop what?’

‘Meeting secretly, talking on the phone, your flirting with me. You think it’s harmless but it’s not,’ she explained.

‘I would never do anything to harm you. Why would you say that?’

‘I can’t explain everything to you, but we’ve got to stop meeting each other. If you ever have to see me, we can catch
up in the presence of my sister,’ she murmured, her voice low and serious.

‘But why?’

‘You make me like you, and that’s wrong on so many levels that I can’t even begin to explain to you,’ she said. Every word of hers broke my heart into a million pieces; I could feel it happening in excruciating slow motion.

‘I am glad to hear you like me,’ I said and forced a smile, wanting to cry.

‘My sister doesn’t like it and you don’t have the slightest idea how my parents would react if they came to know,’ she said. ‘You only spell trouble for me. I don’t like thinking about you, about us.’

‘It’s enough for me to know that you think about us,’ I responded.

‘You are so wrong for me,’ she said and looked away.

‘Then, who’s right? Manoj?’

‘Maybe he is, maybe he’s not,’ she answered.

‘C’mon. He will be dead in a few years. He is already sixty,’ I tried to lighten up; this conversation was only breaking me down.

‘He is twenty-six.’

‘He looks sixty.’

‘It’s useless talking to you,’ she said. ‘I don’t even know why I am compelled to talk to you.’

‘I think it has something to do with the fact that I’m strikingly good-looking,’ I said.

‘Whatever.’

I looked at her and she smiled at me shyly. She wouldn’t talk much that day; she listened to me and my stories,
and would just nod, or look away. I didn’t talk about us; it depressed her, and it hurt me to see her like that.

‘Are we meeting tomorrow?’

‘You want to?’ she asked.

‘I wouldn’t let you go home ever if it were up to me.’

‘I will let you know. I will have to ask Mom. She asks too many questions these days. I don’t have answers for her like I don’t have answers for myself,’ she said, looking away from me. I didn’t like her talking to me in riddles; she felt distant and cold.

I drove back home, distracted, not sure what to make of what she had said. Her doubts, her apprehensions saddened me, but her obvious consideration for what I felt for her gladdened me; I felt like I was in one of her poems, conflicted yet happy, confused yet clear, sad yet infinitely happy.

Maybe that’s what being in love means.