Page 118 of One Indian Girl
‘Okay,’ Neel said. ‘Wow. You learn something every day. So that’s what you think about me.’
‘I am sorry if I said something inappropriate.’
‘No, it’s cool,’ he said and smiled.
The waiter cleared our dinner plates. He brought us mango with sticky rice as dessert. I cut a piece of mango with my knife and ate it with a fork.
‘Your wife is happy for all your success?’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ Neel said, after some deliberation. ‘She is. We have been together twenty years. She has seen my entire journey.’
‘Twenty years? Wow, so you guys met when I was five,’ I said.
‘Ouch!’ Neel grinned. ‘Now you make me feel really old.’
‘What is it like being married for so long?’ I said.
‘It’s nice. You build a life together, a lot of memories together. You bring kids into this world.’
‘Yeah, does sound beautiful.’
‘And yet, because you have been with a person so long, it doesn’t stay the same. Issues crop up. Many issues. Many, many issues.’
I sensed Neel had stuff bottled up.
‘Okay. Well, you can talk about it if you want,’ I said.
‘I am not going to bore you. I don’t have an exciting story with iPhones being thrown off the Brooklyn Bridge. Just stupid domestic stuff.’
‘Hey, I had an old iPhone. I would have upgraded to a new model anyway.’
Both of us laughed.
‘You are funny,’ he said.
We finished our meal.
‘I ate too much,’ I said.
‘Me too. Let’s take a walk?’
‘Another walk? You are MrHyperactive, aren’t you?’ I said.
He grinned. He picked up a flashlight—there was one on every table. I lifted two glasses and the unfinished third bottle of champagne.
‘What?’ Neel said.
‘We will take this along,’ I said.
‘Kind of defeats...’ Neel said and I nudged him.
‘Come,’ I said. We walked barefoot on the same route as our jog a couple of hours ago. However, the island took on a new form in the darkness. The trees appeared pitch black, as did the sea. I could see white streaks where the waves broke, due to the phosphorescence and the moonlight. We walked close to the shore this time. The water lapped at our feet, warm on our ankles. Neel’s flashlight showed us the way. We walked in silence, with no sound apart from the splashing waves. The lack of conversation didn’t seem awkward. In fact, it seemed perfect. I spoke after a while.
‘You must be tired,’ I said. ‘You ran five rounds.’
‘A little bit,’ Neel said but walked on.
We reached the northern tip of the island, which had a C-shaped alcove. The waves became gentle here and made no sound. Rock formations on the beach jutted out of the sand. At a distance we could see fishing boats as nearby islanders went out for a night’s catch.
