She’d felt him smile in the dark. “Not at all. It is something to think about. Thank you, Claire.”
They’d sat in silence and listened to the gentle crash of the waves cooling the sand. Claire had been so comfortable that she’d thought of reaching out for Satish’s hand, but instead she’d quickly stood and said, “Okay, time for dancing! Let’s go get our duds on!”
Satish had groaned.
28
Satish
Satish waited in the lobby with his heart hammering in his throat. What was he doing? He had told Claire, and she had agreed, that they would be friends, so why didn’t he feel any better about this? He didn’t feel good about going dancing; it was so out of his realm of normal that he didn’t even know how to feel. He was a man of his word, though, which he now realized was ridiculous. What kind of man made a promise to one woman and then went dancing with another? Satish was beginning to doubt his own character. Was he a good person if he could act this way? He was continuing to berate himself when the elevator dinged and Claire walked out.
He stopped thinking. She had changed into a black halter dress and piled her gorgeous ringlets on top of her head in an elaborate arrangement. A few loose curls just grazed her shoulders and bounced in time with the skirt, which did a quick swish around her mid-thigh every time she took a step. It was unreasonable to believe that he could hear that swish in the cacophony of the cavernous hotel lobby, but he felt as though his senses were magnified a thousand times. A huge grin lit up her face when she saw him, and she did a tiny jig to quicken her step.
“Let’s go, Twinkle Toes,” she giggled as she grasped his hand and swung him in the direction of the hotel door. He laughed along with her enthusiasm and his anxiety drifted away.
The club was loud, and Claire glanced over her shoulder at Satish as she dragged him to the dance floor with purpose. To say that he looked shell-shocked was an understatement. The dance floor was a hot mess of hips, arms, and hair, and by the time Claire reached a tiny open space, her arms were damp with other people’s sweat. She loved it, but Satish didn’t feel the same way. She spun and laughed at his expression of horror when she pulled his arms gently toward her and bumped her left hip into him teasingly, trying to initiate some form of movement.
He tried to move with her but his limbs refused to cooperate and he felt like an injured giraffe. Claire leaned toward Satish and shouted, “Why don’t you get us a drink? It will give you a few minutes to adjust. Don’t worry; I won’t move. I’ll be right here.” She smiled at his relief and he pushed through the crowds to reach the bar.
Satish thought it would require some effort to get used to this kind of atmosphere. It wasn’t the music that he was struggling with, but the crowds. As he stood there, being jostled and bumped at the bar, politely raising his hand and meaningfully lifting his eyebrows toward the bartender, he realized how little he was ever actually touched. He had guarded his personal space so carefully, both physically and psychologically, that this immersion in sensation was disarming at best.
He stood for a few more minutes, composing himself, before he realized that about five people who had been behind him were now before him and ordering drinks. Taking a deep breath, he pushed forward into the crowd until he was standing with his hands on the solid oak bar. A small, dark man with a mop of curly hair and bad teeth grinned up at him from his spot wedged against Satish’s elbow. Satish grinned back. The man yelled something at the bartender in loud Portuguese and tossed a thumb in his direction. The bartender hustled over immediately and, wonder of wonders, Satish soon found himself with two drinks in hand. He tossed some bills on the bar, nodded politely at the small man, who grinned at him again, and went to hunt down Claire.
This time, his journey across the packed room was more fun. Instead of the bumping and pushing feeling aggressive and threatening, Satish recognized it for what it was: humanity coming together to celebrate life. Every person in this room was here for one reason and one reason only: to have fun. He felt a rush of joy as he juggled the overflowing caipirinhas and laughed out loud as a sharp nudge to his right elbow caused the lime to topple off the side of the glass.
He stopped and looked up at the crazy, spinning lights and felt the hard knock of the bass line in his sternum. He caught the flashing smiles of the beautiful Brazilian girls trying to catch his eye. This is living, he thought. A sudden realization made him catch his breath and grip the drinks harder in his hands. He wasn’t living. He loved his work, but work wasn’t life. People, relationships, music, and dancing—this was life, and he wasn’t living it. No one in his life had ever made him realize this before Claire. Somehow, she had managed to get close enough to him to open him up—to get him to go dancing! She filled him with yearning, and he knew now that he needed her. He needed her to teach him to live.
Desperate to be near her, he searched the crowd. She found him before he did, and when his eyes met hers, he watched her mouth spread into a slow, sexy smile. She was dancing with a man—wait, two men—and they were flitting around her like mosquitos around a patch of bare skin, searching for the best opening of attack. As he watched, she grabbed both of their hands, gave them a squeeze, and headed off in his direction. They watched her go, and Satish laughed as Claire turned and gave them a cheeky wave; she knew that their eyes had been following every step of her departure.
She was standing in front of him, then, with her cheeks flushed bright pink, her hair tumbling from the loosened pins, a sheen of sweat across her brow, and her eyes huge and smiling. Satish realized that he was holding his breath. Claire looked at him with such open adoration that his knees went weak. If you had told him before tonight that there was an actual physical reaction to go with the phrase “knees going weak,” he would not have believed it, yet here he was, struggling to hold himself up.
Oh, God, he thought. Forgive me, Nandita. You were right.
A spark cracked inside of him and his chest burst into flames. He turned to put down the drinks on a nearby table and moved back to lean toward Claire to put his large, cool hands on either side of her burning face. He drew her toward him, fingering the damp curls that lay across her cheeks, and kissed her deeply. Claire responded immediately and opened her lips to his demanding pressure. He kissed her as though he could drink her up, because at last, he knew that this woman, and only this woman, could satiate his thirst. He needed her. He wanted her. He had just made a choice—the first independent choice he had ever made in his life.
Forgive me, father, thought Satish, but I choose Claire.
Claire’s head was spinning as she tripped along the uneven paving stones, dragged by Satish toward a waiting cab. One minute, she was dancing her ass off, having a fantastic time, feeling confident, sexy, and free, and the next, Satish was kissing her. Satish was kissing her! My God, what a kiss! All of a sudden, he had pulled back, looked at her as though he had just been bitten by a tarantula, and said, “Oh God, Claire, please accept my deepest apologies.” He had turned, pulling her arm as he zig-zagged through the crowds toward the exit.
“Satish!” Claire called, stumbling in her heels. “Satish, please stop. Why are you apologizing? I liked it!”
He stopped and turned so quickly that she fell into his chest, and he grabbed her other arm to steady her. He was breathing heavily, and she could feel his heart pounding against her. Satish brought his hand up to gently tuck an errant curl behind her ear; he smiled sadly and stepped back, creating some space between their electrified bodies.
“I liked it, too,” he whispered before clearing his throat and saying in a louder, steadier voice, “but I want us to be friends, Claire. I should not have kissed you. It was not… fair. I want us to be friends. I am going to take you back to the hotel, now, and I won’t see you again tonight, as I have some calls to make. I won’t see you tomorrow morning, either, because I need to change my flight. I will order a taxi for you to take you to the airport tomorrow.”
Claire looked at him in confusion, he
r eyes begging for an explanation of this behavior, but he turned and lifted his hand to hail a cab.
29
Claire
An hour later, she was lying in bed, dialing her home number over and over again, but Sally would not pick up. What the hell was going on?
At dinner tonight, Claire had felt confident that Satish had said he wanted to be with her. Sure he’d said “friends,” but he had held her hand, smiled a whole bunch, and said he had something he had to take care of. Didn’t he mean he had something to take care of, so they could be together? Had she completely misread the situation? Maybe what he meant was that he could only be friends and nothing more, because of this something he had to do. He had kissed her, though, and, boy, you could have fooled her, if they didn’t have something between them that was more than friends. Satish had then said he shouldn’t have kissed her and that he wasn’t flying home with her tomorrow. The way he’d looked at her told her that he felt more than “like,” but he’d said the word “friends” over and over, like a goddamn broken record. She was starting to get pissed off and frustrated as the phone rang endlessly in her presumably empty apartment in Hoboken.
He hadn’t said a word to her in the five-minute cab ride, and when they’d gotten into the hotel lobby, he couldn’t wait to get away from her. “I am sorry not to escort you to your room, Claire, but I need to go to the business center to take care of some things.” Off he had dashed without a by-your-leave. She had stood for a few minutes in front of the elevator banks, completely stunned and disoriented.
She had to get up at an ungodly hour tomorrow for the airport, but there was no way she was going to be able to sleep. What was going on with Satish? Had she read everything all wrong? Maybe he truly did just want to be friends.
30
Satish
Satish sat, wide awake, in the muffled hum of the first-class compartment. His fellow passengers were all sleeping soundly in their cocooned, full-length seats, and the shades were all closed. The plane was dark, and the only sounds were the occasional quiet clink of silverware or glasses from the recent meal. Satish should have been sleeping—he had a long journey in front of him, and he had been up half the night making phone calls and writing emails, trying not to be distracted by the memory of that spectacular kiss. For the one-hundredth time, he chastised himself for getting so caught up in the moment that he’d brought dishonor on Claire. On the one hand, it was so disrespectful of him to kiss her like that after he had made commitments elsewhere, but on the other, he knew that the kiss was the catalyst that had enabled him to step onto his present path. Since the moment his lips had parted from Claire’s, his current plan had materialized before him.
He was on his way to India, and he would make his choices clear. He would gently break off the arranged marriage, doing his best to shelter his father’s honor by paying a generous dowry to her family to give them time and resources to find her another suitable partner. His intended was young and beautiful, and he didn’t imagine they would have a problem. He would then come back home and be with Claire.
Just the thought of being open with her about his feelings and of spending time with her and spoiling her with love and attention caused bubbles of joy to pop and bounce around in his chest. He had left her rather abruptly the evening before, but he would phone her from India as soon as he could and explain everything to her. He would explain how he should not have kissed her, yet, and apologize again for his disrespect, and then he would tell her that he loved her. He would tell her everything about the situation in India, and why he had left her so quickly. He would tell her how he’d felt this powerful need to start the tasks immediately that would set this current path in motion. It had felt so right; Claire would understand.
The Nandita situation would prove more difficult. He had decided to take Claire’s advice and bring his sister home with him to begin her studies in the United States. It would give her space and time to evaluate her true feelings, and Satish was sure that, if he did not remove Nandita from the volatile situation brewing in his father’s household, something bad would happen. Her future could end up in shambles, and whatever catastrophic event her behavior caused would also impact the rest of his family.
Nandita was too young to understand the chokehold that cultural expectations had on life in India, but Satish was not so naïve. His father’s letters were more about reading between the lines than reading the actual content. He had placed all of his eggs in one basket—that which belonged to his only son. Without Satish and his resources, his family in India lived in a house of cards that would tumble down around them at the slightest breeze. Nandita, however, had the ability to cause a gale. All his father’s marriage arrangements were carefully orchestrated political alignments, and thanks to his father’s pride, the family lived way beyond their means in order to create the right impression for others. Satish was convinced that his father had no savings, and his daily letters to Satish were clear:
I don’t need to save, you do. I sacrificed everything to give you your education. You will do your duty by returning to India and expanding the business that we will call “mine,” but which will be run by you. I will retain my carefully-crafted persona of a wealthy, successful family man, and you will support the family from that moment on.
Satish no longer knew how he felt about his father’s plans for himself and the rest of the family. He would spend time figuring that out later, and Claire would help him. He had two goals for this trip: remove himself from his marriage commitment and Nandita from India. How he was going to achieve either of those goals, he had no idea.
31
Claire
Claire had never felt so utterly bereft, and a constant ache of anxiety sat in the middle of her chest. She tried to swallow it down, but it wouldn’t budge. The packed PATH train was writhing with the evening rush hour crowd, and passengers shot her dirty looks as her rolling suitcase inevitably ended up in their path or, worse, attacked their shins. The flight had been hell, the train to Newark had been hell, and this ride was just continuing the trend. She was desperate to get off this train and finish the ten-block trek to her apartment. Claire had plans: bath, pajamas, socks, book, bowl of cereal, and bed–in that order.
She emerged from the steep stairway after manhandling her case upward through the crowd. People were flowing aggressively around her, cursing or “accidentally” kicking her case and dangerously throwing her off balance. Suddenly, someone dragged her case from her hands.
“Hey!” she screamed, turning on the thief with the devil in her eyes. The river of suits seemed to pause as dead-eyed commuters turned to stare in her direction.
“For Christ’s sake, Claire!” complained Sally as she strode past her, dragging her suitcase. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Claire ran to catch up and tripped on the uneven paving stones. She caught herself just in time and felt close to tears. “Sally, what are you doing here? Have you been waiting for me?”
“Of course I have been waiting for you, doody-head. I thought you might be tired and need some help.” Sally strode purposefully onward and the crowds parted mercifully around her. Claire took a clear breath for the first time in the last eighteen hours and felt a wave of affection and gratitude for her friend, despite being called a “doody-head.”
“Plus, I need to get you home so I can fill you in on work today. All hell has broken loose.”
Claire’s heart sank as she lunged for Sally. She just caught the sleeve of her blouse and managed to drag her away from the commuter current. When she collapsed at a rickety, wooden table outside a closed trendy club, Sally plopped down opposite her.
She felt tears of exhaustion and foreboding creep up on her, and she paused for a second to press the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. She just couldn’t take crying in the middle of the street, on top of everything else.
“Okay, Sally. What the hell is going on?”
Her friend dragged the suitcase unde
r the table and stared at Claire. “Good news, bad news, or good news?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, give me some good news, please.”
“Okay, well good news begets good news. I will give you two good newses at once.” Sally looked ready to jump on top of the table and start dancing; she'd done it before. “Good news number one: your Satish must really like you, because,” Sally broke into a grin and her eyes filled with glee, “Nadia got fired!”
“What!” Claire stared at her dumbly.
“Oh, it was fabulous, Claire.” She bounced in her chair. “I wish you had been there! It was like the climax of a film you have always wanted to see. I was taking my coffee to my desk this morning when Maureen came hustling over, moving faster than I have ever seen her move. When she passed my desk, she threw out ‘Nadia called to HR’ and breezed on. I looked over the top of my cube and Bitch Clique heads were popping up everywhere. It was like freakin’ Meerkat Manor!”
Unraveled (Jersey Girls Book 1) Page 14
