by Dona Sarkar
Kashmira looked distraught. “That’s what I thought. But I better find something else.”
“It’s up to you, of course,” Quinn replied, on autopilot. This might be the thirtieth time she and Kashmira had had this discussion. “I think you should pick a topic and stick to it.”
“Yeah well,” Kashmira muttered. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
You and me both, champ.
Everyone had their own problems, but Quinn couldn’t help but feel hers was exceptionally worrisome.
What the hell was she going to tell Shalin? How could she refuse him after everything they’d shared? She hated the idea of marriage; he knew that. She’s sworn she’d never be legally bound to someone ever again. She loved their relationship and had no doubt that he was the love of her life. But being financially and forever tied up with someone again? That was when people stopped trying to be their best, started taking each other for granted, and eventually ended it with ugliness and hate. She didn’t want that for their beautiful relationship. No thank you.
Quinn pressed a thumb and forefinger to her temple as they made their way past the empty classrooms to the main lecture hall. She felt as if a rubber band was encircling her brain.
She needed to talk some sense into Shalin. Convince him that there were several more steps they needed to take together before even discussing marriage. Like actually meeting each other’s families in the right context.
Not that Quinn was in any rush to do that at the moment. The age difference. The cultural difference. The everything difference.
Sharp footsteps from Quinn’s ankle boots and cushioned ones from Kashmira’s black loafers echoed in the deserted hallway as the women walked in silence.
“Here we are.” Quinn gratefully saw the lecture hall up ahead. As she pulled the door open, she felt a twinge of guilt for not having been honest with Kashmira. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell her the truth now. Kashmira would never understand. She would assume Quinn was deserting her for a man, or worse yet, that Quinn had used her.
Quinn’s guilt got the best of her, finally. Damn conscience. “How about this? Come over tonight, and I’ll take a look at your paper.”
“Oh, that sounds great. Thanks.” Kashmira smiled, looking unsurprised. This was not the first time Quinn had bailed her out on a problematic assignment. “I’ll see you tonight. Say hi to Dad for me, okay?”
“Sure.” Quinn glanced quickly behind her shoulder to see if Dr. Roy was giving her a displeased look for being late.
He was.
Excellent.
“See ya,” Quinn whispered and quickly scurried into the back of the auditorium. Mortifying. She was sure nothing looked more ridiculous than for the TA to be late for class.
“As I was saying, last week we discussed the poems of Rumi. This week we’re going to a new area, the ghazal. This is a lyrical poem with a set number of rhyming couplets and a repeated refrain.” Dr. Roy continued his lecture.
Quinn opened her fat spiral notebook and tried to take notes. Instead she found herself doodling pictures of diamond rings with giant X marks over them.
After two years of seeing Shalin every day and dating him for the past year, he had proposed. And he was adamant, either she marry him or they end the relationship. He wanted everything, he said. He wanted to wake up with her on Sunday mornings and walk to the farmer’s market and have dinner with other couples. He wanted a real family with her.
She was almost thirty years old; old enough to know that he meant it. She knew she loved him. He was someone she could actually trust. He would never betray her. Not like—
A tiny voice inside her head whispered, What about his family? All that baggage? Did she really want to deal with family and society drama? Wasn’t getting away from all that bullshit part of the reason she’d moved to Ann Arbor in the first place?
“Ms. Montgomery?” Dr. Roy thundered, staring at her.
Quinn blushed again. “Yes, Professor?”
“I was requesting that the class attend the mushaira on Saturday. You will be at the recital, am I right.” He phrased it as a statement, not a question.
Quinn nodded dutifully. “Of course.”
“Brilliant.” He turned his attention back to the class. “As you see, both Ms. Montgomery and I will be there, so please feel free to come. Now, who wants to recite a ghazal for the class? Anyone?”
The class full of juniors and seniors squirmed. At forty-one, Dr. Roy was the head of the Asian Studies department, though many people guessed his age to be ten years younger from the sparsely distributed flecks of gray in his black hair and the very slight laugh lines in the outer corners of his light brown eyes. His storytelling skills, beautifully clipped British accent, broad shoulders, and perfectly pressed suit jackets attracted throngs of admiring students every quarter. Especially the women.
His Poetry of Asia lecture was by far the most popular class in the department and while the Professor was well-liked for his engrossing lectures and exotic field trips, he was a tough person to please and expected complete dedication from his students. Quinn had come to know this from being his Teaching Assistant for the past four semesters. The students were learning it now as they shuffled their feet and avoided eye contact so they wouldn’t be called on.
“Ms. Montgomery?”
Quinn glanced up warily. Why was he picking on her today? She was the TA, for God’s sake. Didn’t that give her the license to daydream in class without being disturbed?
“Could you recite a quick ghazal for us? Something short, even two stanzas will do.”
Now it was Quinn’s turn to squirm. He was getting revenge, she was sure of it. She pulled her buttery blond waves into a knot at the base of her neck and stood as tall as possible, not too difficult at her five foot eight inches. She raised an eyebrow at him. Dude, seriously?
“Ahem.” She cleared her throat and thought. She spoke clearly, her voice resonating through the lecture hall.
“Seek and you shall find happiness, they say,
I am very sure that is not the way.
“Oh Quinn, you must explain to me today,”
Why does the teacher torture me this way?”
* * *
The entire class burst into laughter. Even Dr. Roy looked mildly amused.
“Okay class, settle down. Amazing. Ms. Montgomery illustrates a very good point. Note that she used the same number of syllables in every line. Well done.”
Relief. Finally, she had done something right. She half-listened to the rest of the lecture, making a note on the corner of her notebook: mushaira. Saturday. WTF.
But her thoughts soon went back to the previous night.
Marry me.
It would be so easy to finally let him in. Stop holding him at arm’s length the way she knew she had been. But that meant being in his life completely. And she still wasn’t ready for that level of scrutiny from everybody in Ann Arbor. What was wrong with a secret love story anyway? Why make anything official when they were so good together without anyone knowing?
You’re my true love. The voice insisted. Why does it matter what everyone else thinks?
What if this changed everything? Could she take such a risk?
“Ms. Montgomery, may I see you for a moment?” Dr. Roy’s voice broke through Quinn’s thoughts as the students slammed their textbooks shut and clattered to their feet.
Quinn nodded and gathered up her notes. His tone told her she was in for it now.
Dr. Roy turned to make sure the last student had left the room before murmuring,
“Please answer this question from above,
Why Shalin, are you a fool in love?”
* * *
“Jerk!” Quinn half-heartedly punched him in the shoulder. “Do you really have to embarrass me in class?”
Shalin Roy smiled. “I love watching you fidget. You seem distracted today. Are you all right?” He looked closely at her. “Thinking about last night?”
Quinn sighed. For such an abnormally intuitive man, Shalin could be a moron sometimes. “How could I not? You broke the rule!”
“Your rule. And a stupid one at that. Who swears off marriage forever? I wanted to marry you last year.” Shalin shoved his laptop inside his briefcase, perfectly matched to his dark grey jacket, his legs encased in distressed denim jeans. He was among the most distinguished and well-dressed members of the faculty at the University of Michigan. He was a tan Indiana Jones, minus the hat.
“And I said hell no to marriage back then. Specifically because it brings these kinds of issues into my life.”
“You need to relax,” Shalin closed his briefcase and turned his attention to Quinn. “This is supposed to be fun.”
“Easy for you to say.” He’d given her an impossible choice. Stay with him and face certain disaster, or lose him forever.
Quinn’s heart sped up and her breath quickened as Shalin grabbed her wrists and pulled her to him. “I’ve wanted to marry you since I first laid eyes on you.” Shalin brushed her hair off her neck to give himself easy access to her throat. “But you wanted to finish grad school. So, here we are.” His fingertips traveled up the back on her head as his lips came down on hers. “You graduate in two weeks. We’ll be married this summer. Anywhere you want. Hawaii. Paris. In a forest. At the mall. Here. You decide. Our ethically touchy teacher-student liaison can come to an end. And our lives can begin.”
Quinn felt herself curling, from her toes all the way up to the roots of her hair. As usual, Shalin had gotten to her. But she had to stay focused. She couldn’t lose herself to him like she had so many times before. Like last night.
She pulled away from the kiss. “Kash and Tiara won’t accept this. They’re going to be furious. You know how they are. And God, we’ve kept this from them for so long!”
“They’ll have to accept it. They’re adults with their own lives. It’s time for me to have my own too. If word had gotten out, we both could have lost our jobs, and the girls would have been out on the street. They’ll be surprised but will eventually accept it. Trust me.”
Yes, trust him. As if he knew the minds of temperamental young women.
“Do we really have to get married? What’s wrong with status quo? We’re doing just fine. A secret relationship . . . it’s so much more romantic this way.”
“I want to walk in the park with you. I want to hold your hand when we eat in restaurants. More than anything, I want you to wear my ring. I want you to be mine.” Shalin cradled Quinn into his arms as she craned her neck to look at all six feet two inches of him. “My whole life I’ve been doing what other people expect of me. I married the woman my mother chose for me when I was nineteen years old. I had children because Vidya wanted them less than a year after we were married. It’s my turn to live now. My life is finally in my hands. And I want to share the rest of it with you. And no one is going to stop us.”
Quinn sighed, trying not be influenced by his inviting words or the strong arms and tender kiss.
Why make it all pubic and risk everything now?
Dona Sarkar wishes she’d been born as a cat, so she could have had nine lives. Since that didn’t work out, she decided to live nine lives in this one. She spends her days making holograms at Microsoft, celebrates diversity in STEM fields as a fashion blogger at Fibonacci Sequins, and is launching her first fashion line, called Prima Dona Style, this year. She is also the published author of three novels and one nonfiction title. She lives in Seattle with her really patient husband and her muse, a very bossy tabby cat named Ash. You can reach Dona on her website, www.donasarkar.com, on Twitter @donasarkar, or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/donasarkarbooks.