Half Girlfriend

by Chetan Bhagat

  ‘Oh no, please. I read enough economic reports in the bank,’ Shailesh said.

  ‘Hey, I’m a nerd and a proud one. Cheers.’ Priya raised her glass. All of us lifted ours.

  ‘Don’t worry, UN boy, I won’t bore you with my little nuggets of wisdom anymore,’ Priya said. She clinked her glass against mine.

  The girls decided to make a trip to the ladies’ room together. Why do they go together for a solo activity?

  ‘Like her?’ Shailesh said, after the girls had left.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Priya. She’s giving you the eye, dude. Isn’t she hot?’

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘You play your cards right and she can be yours.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I’m not kidding,’ Shailesh said.

  ‘Not interested.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to marry her. Take her out, have fun. Loosen up.’

  ‘Very funny. I hardly have any time left in New York. Only two more weeks.’

  ‘All the more reason. Don’t go back without some romance. Or a score.’ He winked at me.

  ‘I have a final report to finish. I haven’t even started to pack. Plus, so many bars to go to.’

  ‘You won’t give up on this Riya nonsense?’

  I kept quiet and finished my third glass of wine.

  ‘You’ve visited or called over a thousand places,’ Shailesh said.

  ‘In two weeks it all ends anyway. I am tired, too. Just giving it my best shot.’

  ‘Idiot you are,’ Shailesh said.

  We heard giggles as the girls returned.

  ‘My friend here thinks you’re a little serious. But hot in a brooding sort of way,’ Jyoti announced.

  Priya smacked Jyoti’s arm.

  ‘Shut up. You can’t repeat a private conversation,’ said Priya, blushing as she sat down again.

  Shailesh kicked my leg. Act, buddy, he seemed to say.

  The waiter brought us another bottle of wine. I poured my fourth glass.

  ‘For dessert I would recommend a drained Greek yogurt served with fresh cherries, thyme-scented Greek honey and walnuts,’ the waiter said. The girls swooned over the description and ordered two servings.

  ‘Where are we going next?’ Priya said.

  ‘Well, we are the boring banker couple. We have early morning calls,’ Shailesh said. ‘So we will head home. Why don’t Madhav and you check out other places in the neighbourhood?’

  ‘Sure, I don’t mind. I could show Madhav the East Village area around Pylos. I used to live here earlier.’

  ‘Actually, I have other places to go to,’ I said. I did have five places on my list tonight.

  ‘Madhav, the lady wants to go out,’ Shailesh said. He kicked me again under the table.

  ‘Stop kicking me,’ I said. The wine had made me more confident.

  Jyoti looked startled by the sudden rise in my voice.

  ‘I need to go. Thanks for dinner. What is my share?’ I stood up.

  My head felt heavy. I had drunk too much.

  ‘Sit down, Madhav. We are trying to help you,’ Shailesh said.

  ‘What am I? A fucking patient who needs help?’

  My wine glass slipped from my hand and fell on the floor. There was shattered glass all over the floor.

  ‘You do need help, Madhav. You’re losing the plot,’ Shailesh said.

  Customers at other tables were looking at us. A waiter came to remove the broken glass.

  ‘We should go. Shailesh, did you pay the bill?’ Jyoti said.

  ‘Did I say something wrong?’ Priya said.

  ‘No,’ Jyoti said to Priya.

  ‘So what just happened?’ Priya said.

  ‘The boys go back a long way. They have their way of talking. Don’t worry about it.’

  Shailesh took hold of my upper arm. He dragged me out of the restaurant. The cold December breeze hit us all.

  ‘You are drunk,’ Shailesh said in a slow, deliberately calm voice. ‘Let’s take a cab home. We will drop Priya on the way.’

  ‘I am not drunk,’ I said, even though I found it hard to keep my balance on the icy street.

  ‘You drank wine like water,’ Shailesh said.

  A yellow cab stopped next to us. The girls got in. Shailesh shoved me into the front seat. He sat behind with the girls.

  ‘83rd and Third please, with a stop at 37th first,’ Jyoti said.

  I opened the front door of the car.

  ‘I have to visit five bars,’ I said and stepped out.

  Priya looked at Jyoti, confused.

  ‘You are drunk. Come back in so we can leave. It’s cold outside,’ Shailesh said, in a firm but annoyed voice.

  ‘I am not drunk,’ I screamed, stumbling on the road and falling on all fours. I twisted my right ankle and it hurt like hell.

  ‘Can you cut the drama and come back in?’ Shailesh said.

  The girls saw me wince and were about to step out when Shailesh stopped them.

  ‘Are you coming or not? I’m running out of patience, bro,’ he said.

  ‘I have to visit five bars,’ I said again, still wincing from the pain of the fall.

  ‘Chutiya,’ Shailesh said. He slammed the door shut and the cab zoomed off. A few cold drops fell on my face. I looked up at the sky. Little white snowflakes were falling everywhere. A homeless man offered a hand to help me stand up. Only the most pathetic can help the most pathetic.

  ‘I have to visit five bars,’ I told the homeless man.

  41

  ‘I’m so ashamed, I can’t even look at you guys,’ I said, eyes down.

  I sat at the dining table in Shailesh’s house. I had brought muffins, bagels, cream cheese, fresh orange juice, takeaway coffee and fruit from Dean and Deluca, a neighbourhood deli.

  Shailesh did not respond.

  ‘When did you come back? And when did you get so much food?’ Jyoti said.

  ‘I came back at 6. I tried to sleep but the guilt wouldn’t let me. So I went out and got breakfast.’

  Jyoti said, ‘You need not have bothered. We were so worried about you last night.’

  ‘No, we weren’t,’ Shailesh cut Jyoti off.

  I said to her, ‘Sorry, Jyoti. I behaved like an ass in front of your friend. I embarrassed you guys. Luckily, I will be gone soon.’

  Shailesh didn’t say anything. He just stared at me without a word.

  ‘Shailesh, I’m sorry. I had too much wine. I didn’t know Greek wine was so potent.’

  ‘That’s not the point, Madhav. We all get high and have fun. You disrespected us. Priya felt horrible. You ruined a special evening.’

  ‘I’m sorry. You are right.’

  ‘Did you see yourself? Staggering on the road screaming “five more bars”. What has happened to you?’

  ‘It’s sinking in finally. I might never meet Riya again. It is the realization that my effort was a waste. It got to me yesterday.’

  ‘You are still visiting places. Five bars, five bars, you kept saying. What the fuck, Madhav?’

  ‘I never went. I couldn’t. I passed out.’

  ‘How did you get home?’ Jyoti said.

  ‘I woke up shivering near a bus stop. Took a cab and came home.’

  Jyoti and Shailesh looked at each other.

  ‘You might be right, Shailesh. I may need a psychiatrist,’ I said.

  Shailesh gave me a sarcastic smile.

  Jyoti took the cream cheese and applied it on three bagels. I took a sip of black coffee.

  ‘Anyway, guys, I’m sorry I lost control. I hurt you guys, after all you have done for me. Enough is enough. No more visiting live music venues.’

  ‘Really? Promise?’ Shailesh took a bite of his bagel.

  ‘Yes. I want to finish my final report. I want to see a bit more of New York, even though it’s snowing and cold. More than anything, I want to spend my remaining free time with you both, because who knows when we will meet again.’

  Jyoti smiled. She looked
at Shailesh, gesturing for him to forgive me.

  ‘And if Priya is brave enough to meet me once more, I will apologize to her, too.’

  Shailesh stood up. He came around to give me a bear hug.

  ‘Is it okay? Say something,’ I said to him.

  ‘Idiot you are, what else to say?’ Shailesh smiled.

  Bye, Riya Somani, I said in my head.

  ‘What size? Speak louder, I can’t hear you,’ I said to my mother over the phone.

  I had come to a store called Century 21 to buy gifts for people back home.

  ‘Take large size, and get me a cardigan with buttons,’ she said.

  I had brought candies for the entire school. It was not the smartest idea. I now needed a new suitcase just to carry the treats.

  ‘Cardigan is done. Do you need anything else?’

  ‘I need some bras. I heard you get good ones there.’

  ‘Bye, Ma.’

  One week before the internship ended, I handed over my final report to Olara.

  ‘Thank you, Madhav. I look forward to reading your work,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks, Olara. You’ve been a great guide these past few months.’

  ‘Well, you are a bright man. Did you finally apply for a permanent position?’

  ‘I leave for India next Sunday.’

  Olara smiled and patted my back.

  I returned to my desk. My phone had a missed call from a contact I had saved as ‘Erica, Tribeca Nation singer’.

  I called her back.

  ‘Hi,’ I said as she picked up the call.

  ‘Hi. Mad-dav, right?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, the Indian guy you met at Tribeca Nation.’

  ‘How are you? You were looking for someone, right?’

  Warmth tingled through me. I told myself to calm down. I had promised Shailesh I’d quit.

  ‘Yes. I was.’

  ‘Any luck?’

  ‘Nope,’ I said.

  ‘Okay, so I don’t have much. This will confuse you even more. But there could be a new tall Indian girl who sings.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I overheard.’

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘Customers at the bar. They spoke about this good-looking singer and were trying to guess her nationality. Indian features, but quite fair-complexioned, that’s what they said. So it reminded me of you.’

  ‘And? What else did they say?’

  ‘They said she sang quite well. Jazz, a bit of rock. . .’

  ‘What? No, I mean where? Where did they hear her? Did you ask them?’

  ‘Well, yes. They said at the Union Square Farmer’s Market on 14th Street.’

  ‘Is it a bar?’

  ‘No, a farmer’s market is like a street fair. They have organic food stalls, and a couple of random gigs sometimes.’

  ‘So what do I do?’

  ‘I don’t know. Sorry, they didn’t know more.’

  ‘Will the fair organizers know?’

  ‘I doubt it. It’s too huge a place. You can check. Take train number four to Union Square.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said.

  ‘Sorry, Mad-dav. I said I would confuse you. But that day you said you don’t even know if she is here. Well, she might be.’

  ‘Thanks, Erica.’

  42

  Of course, my visit to Union Square proved useless. I didn’t have a date or the exact location of the stall.

  The farmer’s market is put up in the Union Square quadrangle, a football-field sized area filled with over a hundred natural and environment-friendly product stalls. A few stalls featured performances ranging from juggling to music gigs. I passed organic honey and fruit-based soap counters to reach the fair office.

  ‘Agents book the stalls. Then they call their own musicians on hire. It’s quite impossible for us to trace them,’ a lady at the fair office told me.

  I took the subway back home. I felt stupid. I had wasted an evening I could have spent with my friends. I reached the 86th Street stop. I walked out to find the streets filled with snow. It was cold and dark. Still, under the city lights, New York, with its historic skyscrapers and modern neon lights, looked pretty. As I walked home, I passed restaurants with cosy interiors. Beautiful people chatted and laughed as they ate their dinner. I wondered if I would ever, even for one day in my life, be carefree like them.

  On my last Saturday in New York, I decided to visit the tourist attractions. I spent my morning visiting the Rockefeller Center, the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. In the afternoon, I decided to splurge. I went to watch an NBA game.

  ‘One ticket for the Knicks game, please,’ I said at the ticket counter.

  Madison Square Garden, also known as the MSG or simply the Garden, is a multi-purpose indoor arena in midtown Manhattan in New York City. Located between Seventh and Eighth Avenues from 31st to 33rd Streets, it is situated atop Pennsylvania Station. I had come to the Garden to watch a play-off game between the New York Knicks and LA Lakers.

  The Garden cost nearly a billion dollars to construct, making it one of the most expensive stadiums in the world. I went inside, and was astonished by what I saw. It was the best basketball court and spectator stadium I had ever seen in my life.

  The teams had towering players, many of them over six-and-a-half feet tall. The Lakers wore yellow kits with a purple strip down the side. The Knicks had on blue jerseys with an orange border.

  I took my seat. It took me a minute to scan the huge arena and figure out all the complicated scoreboards. The crowd of nearly twenty thousand roared at every point scored.

  I was in New York. However, I supported the LA Lakers. They had Kobe Bryant, one of the world’s best basketball players and my favourite. He scored the most, over forty points in the game. I wondered if an Indian player would ever join the NBA.

  The game ended with the Lakers scoring an easy win. The crowd, exhilarated from the game and the atmosphere, began to trickle out of the stadium. I followed them to the exit.

  As I came out of the MSG, I saw a couple of elderly people in jackets with the New York City Tourism logo, waiting near the exit. An elderly Hispanic woman walked slowly towards me.

  ‘Tourist?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, well, sort of,’ I said.

  ‘How your trip goes? Me Daisy, from the Senior Citizens for NYC tourism. Sorry my English not good. I am Mexico originally.’

  ‘My trip is going quite well, thank you,’ I said. ‘And your English is just fine.’

  I could not believe I had commented on someone else’s English. She held a bunch of brochures in her hand.

  ‘May I ask the favour? Will you practise English me five minutes?’ Daisy said.

  I had to go home and pack. This was an unusual request anyway.

  ‘I join adult school to learn English. To practise I volunteer here tourism department,’ Daisy persisted.

  ‘I actually have to go home.’

  The older man with her took me aside.

  ‘Hi, I am Doug, a supervisor for the senior citizens for NYC volunteer programme.’

  I shook hands with him.

  ‘Please spare five minutes for her. She lives alone. She needs to practise her English,’ Doug said.

  ‘Sir, my English is not so good. I am from India.’

  ‘Indians speak good English.’

  ‘Not all. I am also learning it.’

  ‘You are speaking good English now.’

  ‘Well, thank you, sir.’

  ‘Someone must have taught you.’

  I sighed.

  ‘Five minutes,’ Doug said.

  I nodded.

  Doug left me with Daisy.

  ‘Hello, Madam Daisy. What would you like to talk about?’

  ‘Would you like brochure? To see attractions of weekend?’

  ‘Actually, I don’t think so. I leave soon. . .’ I said but she interrupted me.

  ‘They free. Have look. We have discounted Broadway shows, a food festival, a jazz
and music fest. . .’

  ‘I will correct you. Please say, “they are free, have a look”,’ I said.

  ‘Sorry, sorry. That I say.’

  ‘I leave Monday. So I am afraid I won’t be able to do much,’ I said.

  She looked disappointed. I figured she had to do her tourism job, too. She possibly had a quota of people she needed to distribute brochures to every day.

  ‘Fine, I’ll take them. Thank you.’

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ she said and cheered up again. ‘You fill small survey for me. Two minutes.’

  I put the brochures in my jacket pocket. She gave me a form asking basic details about my visit and myself.

  ‘Can I leave now, madam?’ I said, as politely as possible.

  ‘Enjoy rest of stay,’ she said and waved me goodbye.

  ‘Yes, yes. Thank you.’

  I left the MSG compound and came to the street. Peak hours meant cabs would be stuck in traffic forever. I checked the time. It was 7 p.m. I decided to walk the four-kilometre distance from Madison Square Garden to Shailesh’s house.

  43

  ‘Surprise!’

  A crowd of people screamed as I entered Shailesh’s house. Jyoti had arranged an unexpected farewell party for me.

  ‘Wow,’ I said as I entered the apartment. I found twenty guests, Shailesh and Jyoti’s friends, waiting for me.

  ‘Hey, Priya, good to see you,’ I said, wondering if she would slap me.

  ‘Hi,’ she said.

  ‘I’m really sorry about that night.’

  ‘Just go easy on the wine,’ she said and laughed. I smiled back at her. She was really attractive. Many men at the party had their eyes on her.

  A black man came up to me.

  ‘Olara,’ I said and hugged him.

  ‘Your friends are damn nice. They dug out my number and invited me.’

  ‘I’m so glad you came.’

  Jyoti dragged me away from Olara to give a short speech.

  ‘I want to thank Shailesh and Jyoti, who hosted me, and treated me like family,’ I said.

  ‘Cut it out, let’s party,’ Shailesh interrupted me. He offered everyone tequila shots and turned up the volume of the music player. Conversations required people to shout. Male bankers huddled together to discuss expected bonuses. The girls made another group. They discussed the best value offers in town, whether on Netflix or Sunday brunch deals in Manhattan. I chatted with a few people.