How did Passenger know what I was going through? God, I missed Debu. I wanted him to
hold me like he did every night. It meant more to me than any stupid job or stupid deal.
‘What’s up, Radhika?’ Jonathan came up to me. ‘Come join us.’
‘In a bit. Taking it easy. Plus, I like this song.’
Staring at the ceiling in the dark
Same old empty feeling in your heart
Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast.Jonathan raised his glass. I raised mine as well and touched it to his.
I could quit this job. Sure, that’s what Debu wanted.
‘Enjoying yourself in the distressed group?’ Jonathan said.
I shrugged. I couldn’t pretend to be cheerful anymore.
‘What?’ Jonathan was puzzled.
‘I don’t know. I can’t really say.’
Even though Jonathan was a colleague, my boss and I totally should not have done this, I burst
into tears. Fuck, why do I cry so much these days? I swallowed hard to curb my tears. I am not
going to make a fool of myself in front of my coworkers.
‘Anything we can help with?’ Jonathan said, surprised.
I shook my head, keeping my gaze down.
If there is one thing Americans understand, it is not to invade someone’s personal space.
Jonathan figured something was amiss.
‘I am going to let you be. Join us if you want to. Okay?’
I nodded.
‘Thanks,’ I mumbled.
I decided to quit my job. No deal or company or job was worth it. I only enjoyed all this when
I had Debu. I needed love. Unfortunately, Goldman doesn’t hand out love at bonus time. I debated
whether I should tell Jonathan now. However, he seemed to be having a fun conversation with Craig. I
didn’t want to spoil anyone’s mood.
I did bottoms-up on my third or fourth or fifth glass of wine. I tried to call Debu to tell him
about my decision to quit work. He didn’t pick up. I decided to tell him face-to-face. I gestured to
Jonathan that I needed to go. He gave me an understanding nod.
I came out of Harry’s. The wine made me feel weightless, airborne. At a florist kiosk on Wall
Street I bought a dozen dark red roses. I checked the time—7.30 p.m.—and hailed a yellow cab.
‘Tiffany on Fifth Avenue, please,’ I said.
I reached the Tiffany store just a few minutes before its closing time.
‘Rings, for men,’ I said.
The polite salesperson took out several gold and platinum rings. I chose a classic men’s
platinum band.
‘Excellent choice. That would be 2,000 dollars,’ the salesperson said.
I took out my credit card.
‘Thank you. Would you like it gift-wrapped?’ he said.
‘Yes, please,’ I said.
I rushed out of the store and hailed another cab.