by Nisha Sharma
“If you know something, just tell her,” Winnie’s mother said over the sound of running water.
“The Rose Theater,” her father said. “You know my friend Eric, who owns it? I can ask him if he’s hiring.”
“The Rose?” She thought about the small art house that played independent movies on Nassau Street in downtown Princeton. She knew Henry worked there, at least in the summer, and some of the other film-club members had interned there. She’d never had time to work in a theater because she’d always interned elsewhere. But now? Clocking hours at the Rose would be awesome. For a steady paycheck, it was a great place to start.
She scratched at her bare wrist while she worked through her schedule in her head. The next few months would definitely suck no matter how awesome her job was going to be.
“Okay. I’ll play along and be like Shammi Kapoor in Professor. I’ll get a job under pretenses to pay off a debt.”
Her father huffed. “I don’t know how NYU is going to let you in with your movie references. There are at least ten other films that have a more comparable story line than that one. Shammi Kapoor had to play a role for a noble cause. There is nothing noble about your actions. And don’t even think about doing something like this again. Understood?”
“Yeah, Dad.”
“You overcomplicate everything,” Winnie’s mother said as she wiped down the counter. “Just accept what is.”
Winnie nodded, but she refused to accept destiny at face value anymore. She wanted to make the choices in her life, and nothing and nobody was going to tell her differently. She was sure that by her birthday in January, once she had confirmed proof that her prophecy was a lie, she’d be done with the bracelet, with Raj, and with anything that had to do with her star chart.
“You’re going to be fine, beta.” Her father helped dry the dishes while Winnie packed the leftovers. After a beat he added, “So how many DVDs did you bury?”
Winnie burst into laughter while her mother shook her head. She’d never admit it, but she had to have the most awesome Indian parents that a girl could ask for.
5
RAM LAKHAN
★★★★★
You know the heroine is going to forgive the hero for leaving her (even temporarily) before it even happens. She sings an entire song about how brokenhearted she is, and when he comes back into her life, it’s like, Yay! I knew we’d be together again! Ugh.
WINNIE: We need to talk, Raj.
WINNIE: I don’t know why you’re avoiding me, but if we’re going to work together…
WINNIE: Seriously, what the hell, Raj????
When final bell rang, signaling the start of the weekend, Winnie was only stopped once in the hallway, an improvement from the rest of the week.
“How are you taking it?” Simone asked. “You know, the breakup?”
“Uh, I’m fine, actually.”
“Well, if you ever want a breakup playlist, I can hook you up. I’ll even ask some of the girls from—”
“That’s really okay. Thanks, though. See you at the next meeting!”
She hustled toward Mr. Reece’s office, ignoring the side-eye glances. She let out a sigh of relief when she finally reached his door. She knocked twice on the doorjamb and peeked through the opening.
“Hi, do you have a minute?” Winnie said when she saw him sitting behind his desk.
“Ms. Mehta, yes, have a seat. I’m almost finished.”
Winnie slipped into one of the torn leather padded chairs facing Mr. Reece. She watched as he squinted at his computer, his shoulders hunched and his fingers hovering over a keyboard. Behind him was a large Star Trek: The Next Generation poster next to one of The Big Bang Theory. In the far corner were two physics gravity models. Nothing in his office paid tribute to the film club. That was annoying, Winnie thought.
“And done,” Mr. Reece said with a click of his mouse. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. “It’s a little odd not having you in a class this year, but at least we have the film club. How are you feeling now that the first week of school is over?”
“Honestly, or should I give you the short, fake answer?”
Mr. Reece’s forehead creased. “Honesty. Always honesty.”
Winnie thought about it for a moment; then words started rushing from her mouth. “Okay, there is this one Bollywood movie called Sholay that my parents make me watch every Thanksgiving. It’s like a tradition. After our tandoori turkey, we sit down with the family and literally quote the movie as it’s playing. In the story, two con artists with really good hearts come to this small village to help an old man complete his plot for revenge.”
“Ms. Mehta—”
“Hear me out. One of the con artists professes his love for Basanti, this loud-mouthed, independent village girl. Basanti’s aunt is so not okay with this guy, so Con Artist gets super drunk, climbs a water tower, and threatens to jump unless Basanti’s aunt lets him marry Basanti. The whole town is yelling at him to not jump, and then also yelling at Basanti’s aunt to say yes to the marriage and to save his life.”
“I’m not sure I’m following—”
Winnie planted her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “The film club is the town, Mr. Reece. They’re watching me while someone has rejected me, and I’m begging Raj, who is Basanti, to pay attention. The only difference between me and the con artist in Sholay is that the town has no interest in helping me and I’m not drunk.”
“Stop right there,” Mr. Reece said, holding up a hand. “If this is you tattling on Raj, then I don’t want to hear it. You two are young adults and can work through your own differences.”
“In all the years we’ve known each other, Mr. Reece, have I ever not acted like an adult? My life is Sholay right now. I need an Amitabh Bachchan.”
“A who?”
“The other con man in the story. Amitabh doesn’t exactly say that he’s helping, and as a front, it looks like he made the situation worse by telling the aunt some bad stuff. But everyone who has ever watched the movie knows that Amitabh has a key part in his con-man friend’s happiness. I need you to help convince Raj to talk to me. Subtly. Like Amitabh.”
“You’ll figure it out between the two of you, Winnie. Or Raj will. He seems to be doing a great job with not only communicating the film-club lineup, but everything else.”
“What? I made that lineup last year when I gave it to Ms. Jackson!”
“Raj shared it with me and walked me through it, something you should’ve handled instead of hassling Ms. Jackson to come back. Raj has many other commitments, and yet he’s executing the work for the club and festival—”
“Thanks to me,” Winnie said.
“Be that as it may…Raj is doing a bang-up job. He’s even taking the initiative of finding a festival headliner, which you’ve never thought to do.”
Winnie felt as if Mr. Reece had slapped her across the face. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What headliner?”
Mr. Reece sighed. “Instead of inviting the same judges we do every year, he wants to get someone with a little bit more clout using his father’s new connections. I know you’re butting heads with him, but a headliner could generate revenue for the club. It’s also in the bylaws as an option for club events.”
“The reason our judges are the same at the film festival every year is because Princeton University gives us the auditorium for free if we support their film and drama department. That’s a huge expense we don’t have to cover with the fund-raiser. But if we need to pay for a location, the amount of money we have to raise goes up by almost five thousand dollars. We don’t have that much cash, which means we won’t have a venue.”
“I suggest you lower your voice, Ms. Mehta,” he said. “I think you need to appreciate your current role. You’re still leading the weekend club events. You sent the correspondence for this Sunday evening’s viewing. From what I can tell, Raj let you take charge of that while he handles the festival, like it sh
ould be. This isn’t a competition.”
“But it’s becoming one,” she said. “It feels like he’s edging me out of the film festival and you’re helping. I—I still have feelings,” she said, her voice hitching. “Like a leftover friendship thing, maybe, and you’re not making this easy for me to deal with while I’m trying to build my college application.”
Mr. Reece’s eyes widened in alarm. “Hold it. Crying is for the counselor’s office.” He pulled out a dozen tissues from the box on his desk and shoved them toward her.
Winnie picked up one from the pile and sniffled into it. “Okay.” She wanted to add jerk but knew that would be pushing it.
“I think you better sit down with Raj, Winnie,” Mr. Reece said gently. “You can’t run to the faculty advisor for everything. That may have been how Ms. Jackson managed it, but not me. Let me know what you decide.”
He looked at her as if he was waiting for her to leave, so with the little bit of pride she had left, Winnie grabbed her backpack and ticked two fingers against her forehead in a salute.
“Well, I learned that I may be standing on a water tower,” she said, sniffling one last time, “but I don’t have anyone’s support today. Thanks for being so incredibly helpful, Mr. Reece. You are definitely not an Amitabh Bachchan.”
“Ms. Mehta—”
She was already shutting the door behind her and walking toward the nearest exit. When she rounded a corner, she saw a very familiar head.
The hallways cleared for Raj as he walked down the corridor. It was almost as if people were making way for royalty. Winnie rushed toward him, ignoring the crowd, who obviously didn’t treat her the same way. When she got to the door he’d passed through, her stomach dropped. The boys’ bathroom. Great.
Should she wait for him?
No, she thought. This was her only chance. Holding her fear like Nargis held farming equipment in Mother India, she opened the door.
“Raj?” she called out.
“What the hell?” Raj said, yanking at his zipper. His words accompanied the sound of a flush. “What are you doing in here?”
She locked the door with one sweaty hand. “I came from Mr. Reece’s office, and he said that I had to make you listen, so I guess we’re going to talk here.”
He took a step toward her. “I need to—”
“Stop right there.” She planted herself, legs spread, in front of the door. “I have something to say to you. How is it that your entire fan club knows that you’ve broken up with me, but I had to assume since you won’t tell me to my face?”
He flinched. “You broke up with me before you left.”
“I asked for a break, not a breakup—”
“A break means we broke up. You pulled a Sarah Marshall on me.”
“No way! You were the Sarah Marshall, since you went off to be with someone else. You were a great boyfriend and I thought maybe we could see what happened when school started, but now you won’t even freaking talk to me.”
“Winnie, do you even listen to yourself?” He flung his hands out, his eyes wide. “Do you see what you’re doing right now?” He motioned to the pale blue tiled walls and urinals. “You take my movies—”
“Only the ones I bought you, and my parents are making me pay for them since I don’t remember where I buried them.”
“—and then you bust in here!”
“I’m doing this because the film club and the film festival are important to my future even though they aren’t important to yours anymore.”
“That’s because even though I love you, I grew up, Winnie!” he shouted.
The bathroom filled with silence.
“I grew up,” he said again, this time more softly. “Bollywood is not a way of life. It’s an industry, a career, and it doesn’t make good money. This fantasy dreamland you live in doesn’t exist. It took me a long time to realize that. That’s why I’m going to a different school, and doing different things. That’s what I asked you to consider at the beginning of the summer. No matter how much you love movies, I thought you’d be more practical and realize that your love for movies…is a hobby.”
Winnie wiped away the tear that traced the curve of her cheek. His words stabbed her heart. She’d never thought that Raj believed the one thing she loved to do more than anything in the world wasn’t worthy of a career.
“How could you have ever been the one for me if you didn’t believe in me? I’m glad we aren’t together anymore, because I expect more from my boyfriend.”
“Winnie, I’m trying to be a little realistic here—”
“No. You’re giving up. Why are you even in film club if you feel that way about movies?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I need the credit for my college application,” he murmured.
“What! What did you say?” She wanted to barrel her fist into his stomach. “We used to hate people who joined film club for credit.”
“No, you hated people who joined for credit, and I just agreed with you because it was easier than telling you not to make such a big deal out of it.”
“So you lied to me? Did you lie about believing in the prophecy, too?”
“What? No! I did everything I could to convince you that we were destined to be together like we were told when we were kids. I bought you that bracelet your parents kept talking about. Isn’t that proof enough that I tried to make this work?”
Winnie clamped her trembling hands on his shoulders. “Buying me a bracelet doesn’t make me believe in you, any more than it makes you believe in me. I’ve held on to it for a week because I needed time to process what happened between us, but now I know I have to give it back. First, I want to hear you say it. That you’re the one breaking up with me. Reading it on Facebook doesn’t count.”
“I…can’t.”
“Why?”
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. She shuddered at the contact: the cool sensation of his skin was so familiar, but hazy like a distant memory.
“Because I missed you,” he whispered. “As crazy as you are, I missed you. Watching you during the meeting this week, looking at you now, I still have hope.”
“But you’re with Jenny now.” She stepped back, rubbing her damp palms against her jeans. The words coming out of Raj’s mouth didn’t make any sense.
“Yeah. Jenny is different. She’s…not the firestorm you are. I needed to be with someone like that to understand what I had with you. I’m so sorry I hurt you, Winnie. I’m realizing the mistake I made. Maybe subconsciously I thought you would see Jenny and me together and—”
“No.” Winnie cleared her throat. This couldn’t be happening right now. She had to get this script back on track. “Stay with Jenny. You’ve changed, and I’m still the same. Let’s try to make things work for the film club, which means answering my messages, okay? Also, Reece told me you’re trying to get some special judge for the film festival. What’s up with that?”
“Oh. Well, even though I don’t think a future in film is the best way to go, I wanted your last year to be special.”
She paused. “Okay. Okay, that’s…nice. I wish you’d talked to me, though. I—I’m okay with new things, but we have to edit the website, the ads, the promo stuff. We have to clear it with Princeton University, too. It could totally screw things up with securing the location—”
“Don’t worry, I’ve already brought it all up to Mr. Reece. This is going to be great. I promise you’ll love it. I’m doing this for you.”
“Raj, how many times do I have to remind you that you’re dating Jenny Dickens?”
“Jenny has been amazing at a time when I needed someone like her. But you and I? Bracelet or not, we have history. Keep the bracelet, Winnie. The more I think about you, the more I know I made a mistake letting you go so easily.”
A knot of dread tightened in her stomach. “You think we can still work. After you cheated, and even though you think what I want in life is stupid. Raj…you still think I should go to
Boston, don’t you?”
“You’ll realize soon enough,” he said. He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Like I said—I love you. After this summer, after seeing you this week and especially now, I know we’re still destined. I was giving you space. Maybe you still need some space to come to terms with your future.”
“If you really loved me, then you’d want me to get into NYU.”
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you are making excuses because after watching all those movies, you don’t know how to be practical,” he said, before pushing through the door.
She tried to follow him and give one last parting shot, but someone blocked her. Dev Khanna filled the entrance. He maneuvered her inside and locked the door behind him.
“What are you—”
“I’m saving you from the crowd of people in the hall,” he said as he leaned against the far wall. With a bored expression, he started scrolling through something on his phone.
“Why’d you lock the door?”
“Um, so no one can come in?” he replied. “You can leave now, but chances are they’ll know you were in here with Shah.”
“Wait, did you…”
“Yup. My locker is right outside the bathroom door. I was trying to fix my broken lock and ended up hearing everything. By the way, don’t feel bad. Dude was a jerk trying to get you to think you were wrong about your future. Also, he’s a total moron for letting you go. You deserve way better.”
“Hey!” She could feel her cheeks redden. Hey? Really, that was all she could respond with?
“What? That was a compliment.” He looked up from his phone, and when their eyes met, the corner of Dev’s mouth curved slowly, as if he knew what she was thinking.
“You have no filter, you know that?” she said.