Against All Odds

by Aarti V Raman

  What was he supposed to say? Sorry about your father. I know he died because of me.

  So, like the coward he’d once been, he ran from the café and the ship as fast as he could. Flagged a passing ferry and reached the mainland where he’d gone into his room and stripped off the rented tux as if bugs were crawling under his skin before hitting the gym. He figured they were.

  In the form of her name.

  Sophia Roy Kulashreshtha.

  A specter from his past had come to haunt him in the future he was building. Brick by painful brick. And it wasn’t easy, some days he thought it wasn’t even possible. But he was making it happen.

  Until he’d was forced to remember it all.

  Remember a conference room where he’d sweated and shivered in sixteen degrees air, where he’d signed the first half of his life away. Where he’d glimpsed a weary disappointment in the man who’d mentored him, Rajeev Kulashreshtha. He’d taken a chance on him when he’d been nothing but a brash engineering graduate with ridiculous, grandiose ideas to analyze two million apps because one day phones were going to outnumber people.

  Who’d loved him like he was his own son.

  No, Bharat never wanted to see Sophia ever again, if he could help it. Didn’t want to hear her laugh or wonder what it would be like to touch her hair or kiss her.

  She wasn’t for him.

  His calves screamed in protest as he changed the difficulty setting on the treadmill. Sweat popped on his shoulders, running down his chest. His hair was matted and he felt dizzy and nauseous.

  Usually, he worked out before he crammed himself full of delicious pancakes.

  “Hey,” Thierron said as he slid into the seat next to him. He wore board shorts and a tattered USC, Berkley sweatshirt cut off at the sleeves. “Where did you take off to, last night? We were looking for you?” He was too bright-eyed and awake for six am.

  Bharat wanted to say: I was hanging out with the daughter of the man I killed.

  He inched the difficulty setting higher, his lungs protesting. “I was playing blackjack.”

  “I hope you won.”

  Bharat shook his head and ripe sweat hit his eyes. He stopped running because he was grossing himself out now. He changed the settings back gradually, his legs trembled from the letdown until he finally stopped. His palms left a sweaty trail on the machine’s display.

  “Fuck,” he swore quietly.

  “You’re dripping man.” Thierron offered him the towel.

  Bharat took it gratefully. He briskly wiped the water off his neck and shoulders and the towel went soaking wet. He looked at it and then draped it around his neck.

  Thierron handed him a bottle of spring water and he guzzled the whole of it down.

  The churning in his gut worsened. He took a couple deep breaths, felt his pulse roaring past his ears. Saw Sophia’s eyes as they’d told him her full name. Defiant, miserable.

  “Fuck,” he said again.

  “You’re beginning to scare me, Bharat. Should I call Henry?”

  Bharat shook his head. “No, I am fine. I will be fine. I’ll shower and meet you guys for breakfast. Just give me thirty.”

  “Are you sure, Bharat? If something happened last night… if you backslid…”

  Bharat shook his head and squeezed the other man’s shoulder once. It was meant to reassure but Bharat was only aware of how tired he was. His fingers were numb from punishment. “I am fine, Thierron. I swear to you. Nothing happened last night I couldn’t handle.”

  It was just this morning that I basically fell apart.

  But that was no one’s business but his. His and Sophia’s. The churning in his gut increased so he almost ran to the gym bathroom and excavated his early morning breakfast. Retching so hard tears swam into his eyes. When he was finally done, he kneeled by the side of the toilet bowl, the cold ceramic cooling his heated skin.

  Bharat took a deep breath and his mind was totally clear. As if a long-buried toxin inside of him had finally been purged. He wiped shaky hands over his face and considered his next step.

  It was something he didn’t particularly like doing anymore. And the one thing he could not avoid.

  He had to go apologize to Sophia for everything he had done.

  ~~~~~

  Sophia returned to her stateroom in a daze. She was one of the lucky few who actually got her own room onboard the cruise ship, even though it was doll-size. Sophia used her indomitable Delhi charm to negotiate this part of her contract – she didn’t want roommates.

  Luckily she was about five one and so didn’t actually require much room. Also, her room had its own mini-bathroom, the sort you might find in a second class passenger train in India, only slightly smaller.

  She took a quick shower (hot water was a precious commodity for staff) and crawled into bed wearing an old Delhi Daredevils jersey that Nakul had gifted her ages back. She was dry-eyed and very calm as she settled the doona comforter around her and attempted to rest.

  She felt no regret with her decision – to reveal her identity to the man who’d done so much damage to her family.

  If and when she made the move to do him equal harm, she wanted him to know it was conscious. That they both knew what was happening. She wanted him to experience the same wretched sense of emptiness she lived with every day, for not saving her father…for not being able to help Nakul with the business.

  For so many things she’d lost count now.

  Her phone rang and she knew who it was before she picked up.

  “Why’s the bastard there?” Nakul asked.

  “And hello to you too,” she said dryly, fiddling with the AC before climbing into bed.

  “I don’t give a fuck about hellos, Sophia,” Nakul shot back. “What is the bastard doing at ConCon?”

  “I don’t know.” Sophia worried an open thread on the doona comforter. Then she said, “I met him again while having breakfast at Docker’s.”

  “You did? Why didn’t you tell me, Meethi?” Nakul exploded with curses on the other end.

  After two minutes, Sophia said, “This is why I didn’t tell you. Because you’ll lose your shit and I will lose my sleep. And I get very little sleep as it is.” They’d slipped back into the language of their childhood, Benagli.

  Nakul muttered under his breath. “Well, what did you guys talk about?”

  “Engineering. Quality earphones.” Sophia smiled a little, remembering the conversation. “Then I told him my last name and he ran away.”

  “Why did you do that? That’s like giving the enemy your strongest weapon.”

  Sophia counted to five. “This is not a war, Nakul. And I’m not going to fight it for you. Anyway, I don’t understand why you are suddenly so keen on what Bharat is up to?”

  “I did some checking up after you called me in the middle of the night and the chatter at TC is that he is lined up a few meetings with a lot of VC top dogs.”

  “What’s TC?”

  “Tech Crunch. It’s the TOI of tech news.”

  “I see,” Sophia said.

  “I think he is launching a new company or a new product. I also did some digging around and found out that he is mentored by Trifecta Tech. It’s owned by Todd Henry, Thierron Goddard, and Donald Dunt.”

  Sophia sighed aloud. “Is that supposed to mean something to me, dada?”

  “Yes, Meethi. They are billionaires, really, really rich investors. If they are backing Bharat, he is doing something epic. I need to know what.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to take it from him,” Nakul said stubbornly. “After all he’s done to us, he doesn’t deserve to win.”

  Sophia thought back to the shattered look in Bharat’s eyes when she’d told him her full name. And the fact that he never seemed to smile with his eyes. Felt an unwilling pang of empathy for the enemy anyway.

  “Nakul, this isn’t…”

  “If I could just tell Dad that we were able to screw Bharat over,” Nakul said gruffly. “May
be it would…maybe he would come back.”

  A dry sob escaped her throat. She shoved it back down where it belonged. “I understand,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I love you, Meethi.”

  “I love you too, dada,” she whispered back, as one tear leaked out of the corner of her eye.

  Sophia hung up and a shaft of physical pain went through her. She was lying to her brother, her ally, her confidante in the endless nightmare that was her life. And to make things worse there was no way Bharat Shrinivasan wanted to see her again.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to either. There was too much pain and unresolved emotions there.

  But none of that mattered now. Now she needed to rest.

  In an old trick her father had taught her, she started going over poker combinations in ascending order. Two, three, four, five, jack and queen. Straight flush. Three, four, five, six, and a queen. Straight flush. Four, five, six, seven, and a jack. Straight flush. Ten, jack, queen, king, and ace. Royal flush.

  Royal flush trumps straight, unless revealed with Ace of spades. Ace of Spades. Ace of Diamonds. Ace of Hearts. Ace of Clubs…

  Her mind fell into familiar patterns and she dozed off finally into a restless sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Sophia woke up to the insistent buzz of her cellphone and an even more insistent knocking on her door. She looked at the caller ID. It was Theresa Luigi, a friend.

  “Bolo?” she croaked out, as she slid out of bed. The floor was cool to the touch, the AC on full blast.

  Sophia immediately bent down to find something for her feet. There were just her four inch heels. She slid them on.

  “What?” Theresa said, confused. She didn’t understand Hindi or Bengali.

  “Hey, Theresa,” Sophia said. “I was sleeping. What’s up?”

  “I’ve been calling you for thirty minutes. There’s been a change in your shift.”

  Sophia frowned. “What change? I am not supposed to be back on till eight tonight. Yesterday was murder on the dealers.”

  She walked to the door, her hand on the knob. The knocking didn’t stop. “Can you stop knocking, babe? I am talking to you aren’t I?”

  “What are you talking about, Soph?” Tessa said.

  Sophia wrenched the door open. The spit dried in her mouth as she saw Bharat standing on the tiny passageway, his hand poised to knock once more.

  She swallowed, an involuntary motion, her eyes wide and trapped. Sleep-heavy.

  Bharat looked at her – a jersey that rode to her knees revealing the curves underneath and four inch heels. His curled fist hung limply at his side as they stared at each other.

  Unspeaking.

  Sophia said vaguely, “I’ll call you back. I have to go.” She cut the call and still stood looking at him.

  They spoke at the same time.

  “May I come in?”

  “You’re not allowed in here.”

  ~~~~~

  Bharat took a steady breath and focused on the main reason he was here. The only reason and it had nothing to do with the warm, pretty female standing in front of him, looking like heaven itself. Her hair tangled from sleep, her eyes drowsy and golden and those heels…fuck, those heels.

  “Please leave,” Sophia said politely. “I could get fired for entertaining guests.”

  “I am not a guest anymore. All the attendees left the ship as of eight am this morning. I am your…I could be …” He let the suggestion hang in the air.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, gripping the door knob tight. “Don’t say it.”

  “Please let me come in,” he whispered back. “Just for one minute. You can time me. My speech is exactly for one minute.”

  A weak laugh escaped her. Sophia stood by and let him walk in.

  All of a sudden, there was not enough air inside the little stateroom. He took up entirely too much space, looking and smelling alien, masculine - in smart chinos, casual shoes and a pressed grey tee. She could see wet marks where his hair was drying itself against the collar of his tee. He smelled of pine and sandalwood.

  It killed her that she noticed all these details about him. That he smelled clean and fresh and sexy.

  “What do you want, Bharat?” Sophia took a seat on the bed, one leg folded over the other. Toeing the heel off.

  Bharat stared at her feet as if he’d never seen feet before.

  She could feel the heat of his gaze all over her naked legs, considered grabbing the doona to cover herself up. But what the hell. She wasn’t scared of him. And he wasn’t going to touch her without her consent.

  He could look all he wanted. She didn’t care.

  “Mr. Shrinivasan? Bharat?” she prompted, in a louder voice. Tying her hair back in a topknot. It was falling too much over her face.

  He thrust his hands into his pockets and went to the opposite side of the room. It took him like three steps to reach the porthole window on the other side.

  “I was twenty-three when I met your father at SINE-IIT,” Bharat began quietly. “And I knew fuckall about starting a business. I just had this idea – of analyzing the ingress and egress in user behavior of all the apps ever created and figuring out what the data meant. It was probably a stupid idea but, for some reason, at that particularly SINE pitch, your dad came up to me. He shook my hand and asked me to come to Delhi.”

  “I know all this. Dad told me all this.” He’d come home and bragged to her about this genius entrepreneur he’d met at an investor pitch meet in Kharagpur. The boy was not much older than her but he was going to run the world someday.

  Sophia had been jealous of Bharat for making her father feel that proud and excited.

  “It doesn’t excuse what you did, Bharat,” she said, at last.

  Bharat still didn’t turn to look at her. “I don’t hate myself for doing all the stupid things I did. I was pretty aware. I have an IQ of 140 plus. I can’t plead ignorance.”

  She drew her legs up and shoved the comforter over herself. His words hurt. They hurt so much. “I don’t want to hear this.”

  “Hate is for fools who are unaware. I don’t hate myself.” Bharat tapped his head against the porthole. “I feel nothing. I can’t feel anything. I don’t allow myself to feel anything.”

  Now he turned around and looked at her dully. She couldn’t hold his gaze with tears threatening to choke her. She clutched the white comforter around her knees, her knuckles standing out against the stark color.

  “May I sit down?”

  Sophia nodded. Bharat sat, the bed pressed down on his side from his sheer weight and she tilted a little too. But she snapped her spine back into place. No, she wasn’t going to go near him. There had to be some other way to do all of this.

  “When I heard of what happened to your father…I…”

  “Shut up, Bharat.”

  ~~~~~

  Bharat closed his eyes as his gut churned some more – acid bile and shame burning his insides to nothing.

  “I am sorry, Sophia. I am so sorry. There are no words in the universe to tell you how sorry I am.”

  She sniffed and the sound echoed in the tiny chamber.

  Hesitantly, afraid to, he put one hand out and touched her knuckle grasping the comfort so tightly. It was a small miracle that she didn’t shrink away from him.

  “But I want you to know something,” Bharat said. “Two things.”

  Her teary gaze was reason enough for him to go on. “The day I heard of what happened to him, I wanted, very badly to score some coke. Smoke up. Drink the pain away, because it was too much to handle. I wanted to disappear. But I didn’t,” he said heavily.

  “I didn’t have that drink and I didn’t touch that needle,” Bharat spoke through bloodless lips. “I didn’t go near a bar or a smackhouse. I made a promise to myself that if it was the only thing I ever did, I would try and live the rest of my life with honor. The way your father wanted me to. So, he could be proud of me someday.”

  He felt her hands
clench into tight fists.

  Sophia shook her head once, the knot of her hair sliding crazily over her shoulders. “You need to go.”

  “I am sorry. I am so sorry,” Bharat said. “I wish I could take it back. I wish I could undo my mistakes. I am sorry, Sophia.”

  “Please, leave.” It was a bottomless whisper.

  He clutched at her hand for a second more. It was so cold. Like she was leaching life right in front of him.

  In a stilted, formal voice he said, “If there is anything I could ever do for you, I’d like to…”

  And that did it. It broke the dam she’d been holding back for so long, and with a tiny little sob tears started pouring out of her.

  What broke his heart, the heart that hadn’t felt anything for five long years was that she made no sound whatsoever. She didn’t even pretend to be hysterical or agonized. She just cried. Steadily. Noiselessly, tears dripping down her cheeks and onto the comforter.

  Her hands limp on the comforter, as she spent herself. Uncaring of where he was, if he was even there…and he couldn’t help it.

  Bharat crawled over to her and gathered her in his arms, her small spine curved into his, her hair spilling onto him in a parody of the way he’d wanted it.

  ~~~~~

  The rational part of her brain understood that it was wrong of Sophia to take comfort from Bharat. He had not really apologized and he claimed to not feel anything. So, by all that was logical and sensible, she should throw him out right now.

  But she couldn’t.

  She didn’t hold him close or anything but she was squashed between him and the comforter. His arms so solid around her, stroking down her spine, curling in her hair. His chest so large, it felt like she could cry forever and he’d be able to take it. His heart beat steady and true and she was so glad of his strength.

  Glad and ashamed.

  This man was responsible for so much of her family’s suffering, taking strength from him was a tiny betrayal, wasn’t it?

  This just made her cry harder.

  Bharat hugged her closer, tighter, her knees digging into his abdomen, the comforter caught awkwardly between them. He dropped his head to her ear and kept whispering her name over and over again. Hot and determined.