‘But do we have a future? Or are we just sharing rent and having sex?’
‘Don’t talk like that.’
I walked across the room and sat on the sofa. I switched on the TV again.
He came and switched it off.
‘Why did you switch on the TV?’ he said.
‘You won’t talk,’ I said, ‘and you tell me not to talk. So what to do? Let’s pretend there is no
problem.’
‘Okay, I will talk,’ Debu said.
‘Sure. I am listening.’
‘It’s my job. I am waiting for this promotion.’
‘It’s supposed to come through next month.’
‘Yeah, but you never know. It’s crazy. Two of my peers told my boss I don’t deserve the
promotion. Advertising is dog-eat-dog. I am so stressed.’
‘Well, that’s terrible. But how is this relevant when it comes to us?’
‘I want to be a senior creative director. Get a raise. A few more accounts. I want to be a little
more solid at work before thinking about marriage. I want to focus on my career, not get distracted.’
‘I am not asking you to marry me next week.’
‘I just... Okay, fine, I want to get past this promotion. Win a couple more accounts. I will be
ready to take the next step then.’
‘What do I tell mom?’
‘Tell her about me. Tell her you have a boyfriend.’
‘She’s not like that. She will flip out. I will tell her once, and at the right time. When it is time
to take things ahead.’
‘Your wish,’ he said. ‘Come here.’
I didn’t move from my seat. He came to me and held me.
‘I love you,’ he said.
‘Me too. Sorry I snapped at you.’
We lay down in bed. He ran his fingers up and down my arm.
‘Not tonight, Debu,’ I said. ‘Just not in the mood.’
‘You will feel better.’
‘No,’ I said.
He placed a hand on my breast. I pushed it away.
‘Focus on your career, Debu, don’t get distracted. Goodnight.’