River. Tourists around me gasped in disbelief as I tossed a working iPhone into the water. The next
minute I felt stupid. However, it ensured I didn’t have a phone on me for the next few hours,
particularly at the airport. Of course, I could have simply deleted his contact. However, that wouldn’t
stop me from expecting him to respond or from checking my phone every two minutes. No, I had to
toss that humiliation device into the river. People with little emotional self-control must take drastic
steps. I resumed my walk towards Brooklyn. As I stared at the wooden pathway, a question crossed
my mind.
Damn, how will I reach the cab driver without my phone?
I did manage to find the taxi—by borrowing a tourist’s phone and using the card the driver gave me.
In twenty minutes we reached JFK airport.
‘Terminal 7 please, Cathay Pacific,’ I said to the driver as we approached the airport
driveway.
I checked in and waited to board in the Cathay Pacific lounge. A part of me felt glad I had lost
my phone. If I didn’t I would be calling Debu right now. I thought about his curt responses. Couldn’t
he have said, ‘All the best, baby. I am sorry it ended this way’? He could have even sent a ‘Let’s be
in touch. I still care about you’. Was I so horrible? Was he so relieved to be rid of me?
Lost in these thoughts, I boarded the Cathay Pacific plane with its dark-green interiors. I sat in
the plush business-class seat, courtesy of my bank, the only one in the world that seemed to care about
me.
A pretty Chinese girl in a fitted red cheongsam dress came up to me. She offered me a glass of
champagne. I declined. I had no reason to celebrate. I looked out the window as the plane started to
taxi for its long sixteen-hour flight. My eyes filled with tears. I felt lost in my luxurious surroundings.
Too sad to stay. Too sad to leave. Perhaps this is how it will be from now, I thought. I will remain
sad forever. The plane took off. I continued to cry as New York became smaller and smaller in my
window.
The flight attendant noticed my tears. After the seatbelt signs went off, she came up to me with
a hot towel and tissues. I used the hot towel to wipe my face. The heat felt nice on my skin.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘Would you like to eat something, ma’am?’ she said.
I shook my head.
‘Maybe just the starter? We also have a lovely carrot-and-ginger soup.’
I nodded. She pulled out my tray table and placed a white cloth on it. She took another cloth
napkin and placed it on my lap. She brought me a tray of food. It contained fresh salad, soup and
brown bread. I had not eaten all day. I finished everything on my tray.
Later, she offered a raspberry pudding for dessert. After I ate it all up she brought me hot
peppermint tea. I enjoyed her full attention.
Is this the kind of wife men want?
‘Ready for bed?’ she said.
I nodded. She adjusted my seat and converted it into a flat bed. She placed a white sheet and
pillow on it. As I lay down, she draped a quilt over me. I realized something. Debu wasn’t the only