You Were My Crush: Till You Said You Love Me!

by Durjoy Datta

  ‘Long-distance relationships don’t work,’ she sighed.

  ‘I know. My ex-girlfriend went to Australia after school,’ I said. ‘We used to Skype or use video chat on Yahoo! for a few days. But, it didn’t work out!’

  ‘We used to Skype, too!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Aha! And do what on Skype?’

  ‘Shut up!’ she said and looked away, smiling. It was hard for me to imagine Diya acting naughty on the webcam. It’s like imagining kittens having sex. There’s nothing sexy about it, and it’s totally wrong. The only things I thought she would sleep with would be books, notes and exam answer sheets. If anything, maybe a picture of a professor.

  Her second relationship was more of a fling, even though she never admitted it. It lasted just a month. The guy was in Hans Raj and thought Diya would be an easy lay. But Diya? An easy lay? Well, whatever.

  ‘So, it was really a fling!’ I said. ‘I can’t believe you fell for the guy. You are too intelligent for that shit.’

  ‘I’m a girl too. And the smartest of girls get their hearts broken by the dumbest of guys,’ she snapped.

  ‘Yeah, behind those spectacles, I really can’t see anything.’

  ‘Whatever you might say, it wasn’t a fling. Now, shut up,’ she said.

  ‘So? Who was better in bed?’ I asked.

  ‘You cannot ask me that. And I asked you to shut up!’ she said.

  ‘I can,’ I said. ‘You said that day I can talk to you about anything.’

  ‘I meant about you, not about me. And this conversation is over. You can’t ask girls that question. This is the reason why you’re single, Benoy.’

  ‘I’m single because I choose to be single. You know I won’t let this go. You got to tell me.’

  ‘Okay, fine, it was the second one,’ she said.

  ‘The one you had a fling with? You dirty girl! Did you get in a leather dress and whip him too?’

  ‘It was not a fling, Benoy! And leather is too expensive. I’m the rich dad’s son after all,’ she snapped.

  ‘Okay, whatever. So you had a better time making out with the one you were in love with just for a month,’ I said, just to drive it home.

  I pressured her to tell me more, but I got the feeling she might kill me and stuff my head in that old bag of hers, so I backed off.

  But? Still? Diya? In bed?

  ‘You look positively shocked, Benoy. You thought there wouldn’t be a guy who would want to make out with me?’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ I said. ‘No! You are very pretty. Any guy would like to make out with you. I don’t know how that’s a soothing thing to say, but no, you are nice.’

  ‘You don’t have to lie now. You think I’m odd, don’t you?’

  ‘I like odd,’ I corrected.

  She was not bad looking. Diya was even cute, but I was never attracted to her like that. And when I told her she was cute, she blushed like a schoolgirl.

  ‘But, Benoy, you must have had flings, right? You don’t have to lie to me. I will not judge you.’

  ‘I am not like that. Why do you keep saying so?’ I asked.

  ‘Benoy, you are okay looking in spite of your stupid shoes and the big cars. You look like you must be dating many girls at one time. Girls like Palak—they must be falling all over you.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I said, not wanting to clarify. I was pissed off even though this was not the first time. Deb, Avantika and now even Diya made me feel that the only reason a girl would ever date me was that I was rich and connected.

  Diya was the last person whom I wanted to think that. I had been obsessing about her sister. Her poems were becoming darker, and there were more sketches of women and girls crying and staring at the setting sun, which I now knew from her poems was a metaphor for oblivion. The silver linings were getting thinner; I was concerned.

  So finally, I decided to pick up the conversation. Diya had uploaded a few pictures of herself with Shaina and I had liked them.

  ‘By the way, the new pictures, I like them,’ I said.

  ‘Hmm. I saw you liked them. Thank you! You should spend less time on Facebook.’

  She had missed the point again! How could she miss it again? In all other matters, she was all brainy, but why miss this! It was frustrating.

  Anyway, we were drinking our coffee, when I was patted on my back. It was Eshaan and his scrawny thin girlfriend, Sonil. I wanted to throw up on her.

  ‘Not in class?’ Eshaan said.

  ‘Obviously not,’ I said.

  ‘Hi, Diya,’ Eshaan said and looked at Diya.

  And I looked at Sonil and smiled. She was unmoved. Bitch.

  ‘Why don’t you join us?’ I asked, even though I did not want that scrawny, painfully thin, tall bitch anywhere near me. She was taller than Eshaan and not cute at all. Eshaan deserved someone cuter, someone more like him. Someone like Diya! They were perfect!

  Eshaan and Sonil sat down and they ordered for themselves. Sonil and I repelled each other like similar poles of a magnet.

  ‘So, why here?’ Eshaan asked.

  ‘He got us kicked out,’ Diya said.

  ‘Ohh. Eshaan has got kicked out because of him a lot of times too, though it gives us a lot of time to date,’ Sonil said. I am sure she meant it as a joke. Ha ha. Nobody found it funny, bitch. Moral victory, yeah!

  ‘So, Sonil, what do you do?’ Diya asked her.

  ‘Maths Honours. I plan to take the IAS exam after this.’

  ‘That’s great. Lots of money, I have heard,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not the money. It’s the respect that matters,’ she said and looked at me as if she had been starving for months and I was a juicy burger.

  ‘Yeah, but there is a lot of money too.’

  ‘For your information, it’s a government job and no government job pays well.’

  ‘But there are other sources of income!’ I said, purely meant to poke fun and nothing else.

  ‘You think every administration person is corrupt? No. It’s because of you businessmen who try to buy our honesty, dangling your stolen income in front of us, that we stray,’ she grumbled.

  ‘Firstly, I am not a businessman! And everyone knows why people become IAS officers. No one respects IAS officers. They respect the money they have,’ I said, and now I wanted to scratch her face open.

  ‘It’s narrow-minded people like you who bring the country down. Buying professors, buying government servants.’

  ‘So then ask them not to get sold! If I can buy it, I will. It is up to you whether you get sold or not,’ I said and she frowned.

  ‘Whatever,’ she responded. ‘You’re from the filthy breed of rich people who think they can buy anything and anyone.’

  ‘Okay, fine, I am like that. Let’s not get into this any further,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, let’s not,’ Eshaan said. All this while, Eshaan and Diya were just watching us bash each other.

  ‘Why not, Eshaan? I do not know how you are friends with someone like him! He only uses you. Attendance, talking to professors, assignments … that’s all he needs you for. Can’t you see that? Why would he ever be friends with you? Has he ever done anything for you?’

  ‘Umm. He drops me home sometimes,’ he stuttered.

  ‘At least I don’t try and control him,’ I said.

  ‘I do it because it’s for his own good. So that he doesn’t waste his life on friends who don’t give a shit about him. To keep him away from suckers like you,’ she bawled.

  ‘I think you should go,’ Diya interrupted and looked at Sonil and handed over her bag.

  ‘And you, Diya—’

  ‘You should go,’ Diya said, ‘or it will not be pretty.’

  ‘Fine,’ she said, grabbed her bag and Eshaan, and got up. ‘But listen, guys like him are parasites and you will know that soon. Humphhf.’

  She walked off, leaving us in an awkward silence.

  ‘Such a bitch!’ Diya said after a while.

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘But you were good!
Especially with that dialogue—or it will not be pretty! It was awesome. But just curious, what would you have done? Catfight? Eh? Tear each other’s clothes off?’ I joked.

  ‘I don’t know. I just get a little possessive about people close to me,’ she said and smiled at me.

  A little possessive? Little? In those moments of it-will-not-be-pretty, it seemed like she would drive a fork through Sonil’s eyes. I thought it would be best to delay the question, ‘Hey, is that your sister in your pictures?’

  ‘Anyway, you didn’t tell me, did you give that second guy a blow job? Tell me now or I will tell your parents that their daughter goes about giving blow jobs to men!’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  Eshaan called me later that day to apologize.

  ‘I am very sorry about Sonil today,’ he said.

  ‘It’s okay, Eshaan. I know she doesn’t like me, no big deal. But why don’t you dump her! She is such a bitch. Why can’t you see that? She treats you like her puppy, man.’

  ‘C’mon, I am lucky that she is dating me,’ he said and he was adorable when he did that. ‘I am not you, Benoy.’

  Argh! Not again.

  ‘Any girl would love to have you. You are cute!’

  ‘You think so?’ he asked innocently.

  Eshaan was the perfect guy to date. He looked cute, was sincere, considerate and caring. Just the guy a girl would like to tell her friends about. Or even her mom, for that matter.

  ‘Yes, I think so. Why don’t you dump her and date someone who really deserves you. Like … umm … say Diya?’ I said.

  ‘Diya? I thought you were kind of—’

  ‘NO! We are just friends. C’mon! You know me better than that,’ I clarified. He fell silent. Eshaan was like an open book. It was child’s play to guess what he was thinking.

  ‘Do you like her?’ I asked.

  ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘She is nice … but no. Maybe. She is cute.’

  ‘Fine, fine,’ I said. ‘You can figure that out later, but please break up with that girl. And for heavens’ sake, do it soon!’

  He laughed about it, and bitched about Sonil; I hoped Eshaan would realize how wrong Sonil was for him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Deb had not yet found the perfect ring, and he had been everywhere in Delhi to look for it. He had even called his ex-girlfriends and Avantika’s friends to help him out with the selection of the ring, but he just could not choose one. That day when my phone rang and I saw Avantika’s name flashing, I wondered if Deb had found the ring and proposed.

  ‘Hey,’ she said.

  ‘Hi, Avantika! Long time.’

  ‘Yes, how are you? Are you and Palak still … you know?’ she asked.

  ‘No! Not at all. Never met her after that day.’

  ‘Aw. Sad for you. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something about Deb. He is behaving a little strangely.’

  ‘As in?’ I asked and put the phone on loudspeaker.

  ‘He is a little too happy, Benoy. He doesn’t call as often and is always busy. It’s been quite a while since he asked me to patch up with him. It’s so unlike him.’

  ‘So why are you so worried?’

  ‘I am not worried. I am happy for him. But then … Okay, Benoy, I will ask you something. Please don’t lie to me.’

  ‘I won’t!’ I said.

  ‘Has he found someone?’ she asked in all seriousness.

  Only God knows how hard I tried not to laugh when she said that.

  ‘I don’t know and I am not lying.’

  ‘I am so sorry, Benoy, to drag you into this. I am just scared that I might have pushed him away. I should not have made him wait this long. I should have patched up.’

  ‘Chill, Avantika.’

  ‘But what if he is with someone else? I even saw his messages on a friend’s phone. I could not read them but he never texts my friends. Why did he text her?’

  ‘Why are you getting so scared? This is what you wanted, right? You always asked him to look for someone else since you could never see him as your guy again,’ I argued.

  ‘I never thought he would go away. I just wanted him to run after me a little more! It’s not that he has not tried to make me jealous before, but this time, I feel something is up.’

  ‘You are thinking too much, Avantika.’

  ‘I don’t know. Did he tell you something? Anything? He must have talked to you?’

  Deb, who was sitting with me, had listened to the entire thing on loudspeaker, smiling stupidly like an orang-utan. I felt happy for him.

  I assured Avantika that she had nothing to worry about and she disconnected the call.

  ‘Benoy, don’t you think marrying her right now would be a little too drastic? We can wait, right? As you said, I’m still young!’ Deb said and smiled.

  ‘You’re such an asshole, Deb,’ I barked.

  ‘Chill, I’m not going to stop looking for a ring. But it’s good to know that she won’t reject me when I go down on one knee,’ he responded.

  ‘So happy for you, man,’ I said and hugged him, and felt sorry for myself. He was convinced about the big steps he wanted to take in his life, and I couldn’t even ask Diya about her sister.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I was at Dad’s office signing papers that day.

  Luckily he was busy in a meeting so he could not come out to see me. I signed the papers quickly and left the office. I smiled at the few girls that worked there. It was not that bad a place. I could have worked there for my internship. Anyway, I walked to the underground parking space and towards my car, my eyes darting to spot the car Dad used to drive.

  The beautiful silver-grey Bentley.

  I looked at it and wondered if there was anything that a man could want more. I walked past it, trying not to drool, headed to where my car was parked and beeped it open. I put the key into ignition and reversed the car out of its parking space, but the car stuttered, jerked a little and came to a rude stop. I shut the engine down and tried again.

  Kharrr … Khaarhh … Khaarhhh.

  The car stuttered for a while and came to a stop. I gave it a few more tries, pushing the pedal all the way down, but the car died on me again.

  And then, there was smoke rising from inside the hood of the car. Darn. Frantically, I stepped out from the car and stood at a distance, just in case it decided to blow up; it happens all the time in the movies. I waited for the smoke to settle down. I stood there watching the smoke settle, and then tried to call a cab, but the network was terrible.

  ‘Is there a problem, Benoy?’ a voice called out. I wondered if it was Jack the Ripper, but it was my father.

  ‘It died,’ I said and pointed to the car.

  It was still spewing out fumes. Diya would jump and dance and laugh if she were to see the car bathed in white smoke; she had been trying to make me use public transport instead. She was appalled to see how much I spent on fuel alone.

  ‘The network doesn’t work here in the basement,’ he said. ‘You want me to drop you somewhere?’

  I considered it for a few brief seconds, and then thought, What the heck; at least I would get to sit inside the shiny Bentley. I felt like a cheap pervert as I looked at the car, wanting to take it out, get it drunk on diesel, drive her around town, to take its top off and stare at the bare V8 engine. I lusted after it.

  I nodded my head and he tossed the keys towards me and said, ‘You can drive.’

  My hands trembled, my lips quivered, I sweated and blood rushed to every part of my body; it was an orgasm.

  ‘Great car,’ I said even though describing it as just ‘great’ was an insult. It’s like calling Lana Del Rey just another girl; it’s like calling the Beatles a boy band.

  ‘Your mother used to love this car a lot, too,’ he said, almost mumbled. ‘I used to be scared when she used to drive this.’

  ‘What? Drive?’

  ‘Yes. She never told you that she drove this car?’

  ‘No, she didn’t. All I knew was she
didn’t want me to have this car.’

  I knew they met now and then, but I did not know that Mom drove his car. All I knew was that she hated him!

  ‘She loved this car. I actually bought one for you but she didn’t let me give it to you,’ he explained.

  ‘I know about that. I don’t know why she would keep me away from something this awesome?’ I said as I pushed on the gas, making the beast roar.

  ‘She didn’t want you to be anything like me. Or do anything the way I do it.’

  ‘How does owning the same car make me like you?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I told her. But she just didn’t listen,’ he said.

  I found it hard to put all this together. Like him and my mother talking about the kind of car I should get. I always thought that my hatred for him was a continuation of my mom’s hatred for him.

  ‘This is so much better than the Audi,’ I said.

  ‘You can keep it.’

  ‘It’s hard to say no to such a car,’ I said. I felt like such a sell-out, a disgrace. It felt like betraying Mom, but it was she who was talking to him, not me.

  ‘Then don’t. Just keep it. Anyway, it takes up way too much space in my garage,’ he said, like a salesperson, only that he was buying me; I felt worse.

  ‘Thank you.’ I sold. I could almost see Mom shaking her head, pointing a finger at me and saying, ‘You’re greedy.’

  We reached Barakhamba Road where he said he would get down.

  ‘Thank you for the lift,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you for the lift, Benoy. It’s your car now,’ he said and smiled.

  ‘Thank you for the car.’

  This was the longest conversation I had ever had with my dad.

  Until I was seventeen, I had barely heard him talk, and I assumed, like all steel traders, he would sound like a rustic, uneducated businessperson. I had no idea that over the years he had made up for his lack of education and how! What I really hated about him was his British accent! I mean, how could he be cooler than me? That is never how a father–son equation works!

  It was hard growing up without a father. But it was even harder to stay angry when you miss having a family, a family that could possibly have a cool dad.