Everything for the Career Ch. 05

What can I tell? I EXPLODED!

In a big, mushroom cloud of destruction and smoke, of frustration and lament, of unbridled FURY, of unstoppable rage.

I. EXPLODED.

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My hair was disheveled, my face a contorted mask of anger, my steps, purposeful, I strode out of his office. I slammed the door shut. SLAMMED.

And before the door shut, I could see Bernie. His eyes... if his age were not so advanced, if he had not seen and experienced all the good and bad things that old age brings, his eyes would have been flooded. Julie, his secretary looked at me, and thought otherwise. This was the first time she did not ask me how the meeting with the "OLD COOT" went. A private joke between ourselves.

"You are not my relative. You are not my father. You are a NOBODY in my life! How in the HELL did you DARE to WRITE SUCH AN EMAIL TO MY HUSBAND! By what right? Just because we know each other you think you can interfere in my life??!!"

That was the first sentence I remembered in the hour long conversation I had with Bernie behind closed doors. More likely, screaming, not conversing. One-sided, mostly. Me doing all the screaming. And Bernie doing all the silence.

"What gives you the right to think what's right for me? You are just an acquaintance. Don't you have enough sense to stay within that limits??!! YOU ARE AN OUTSIDER, what have I done that you have to go and want to mess up everything??!!!"

That was the second one.

There were many. But these two.. they brought tears into Bernie's eyes. No, he didn't actually get watery eyes... he was too old to cry over anything, but if he were young, I'd know this would have broken him. He stood looking at my eyes. And a small, sad smile on his lips.

Whatever may have been our relations, I knew then. At that time. I would never be able to relate to Bernie ever again. Ever. Our relationship would be forever broken. It would never mend. It could never be put together again. The conversation was too tense, my words too harsh and my frame of mind unpredictable. I had done everything. Called him names. Insulted him. Warned him. And finally, in a move totally unpredicted even by me, I asked him to butt out of my life. I ASKED BERNIE TO ACTUALLY BUTT OUT of my life!

But I was not that much crazed with rage that I did not see Bernie's chest give an involuntary shudder as I mentioned that butting out part. Bernie's chest shuddered whenever he wanted to show no emotion, but could not hold out because he had lost his near and dear ones. But he did not offer anything in defense. He just stood there and let me rant. And tear him to pieces. Then I slammed the door and walked out.

And then, I have no idea why, but the moment I walked out of his office, I broke down. I actually broke down so bad, a couple of bystanders offered me help. But I refused. This was my burden to bear alone. I gritted my teeth, and against the bile rising from my stomach, I cried. In big, long gulps, in snotty sobs, between hiccupping movements, I cried.

OH GOD! How many?

Just how many other relationships will I break because I chose my career over my marriage? Just what would I have to do to show Arthur that I loved him? What was it going to take?

I could not think. Could not breathe. Could not even perform basic functions like walking down to my car. Nothing. I was just standing below his office and crying. Just what had my life become? I pulled myself up and through teary eyes, managed to locate my car.

I managed to walk to my car, when the darkness overwhelmed me. And I slipped into merciful black. My last thoughts at this time were: Why are so many people rushing towards me, before the inky black cloistered me in its moist embrace.

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I awoke on a bed, with the white ceiling above me, seeing the faces of my parents staring down at me. I tried to get up but my right hand was attached to something. I turned around to find I was attached to a drip. I opened my mouth to ask my parents what was happening but all that came out was a grunt. What was happening? I was in my parent's house, in my old room. But there was this drip attached and all I could speak was in mumbles and my voice was gruff.

As I began taking in my surroundings, I began to feel the memories flooding back. Bernie. The shouting. The tears. And the blackness. My God. Arthur!

"911 got you here, hon." That was my father. Calm. He always did that when others around him lost their heads. "Bernie phoned them. He also asked them not to take you to the hospital."

"Arthur..." I managed to croak out.

"No... he's not... I... we mean, we've.. not informed him... didn't know what you wanted." My mother. Hesitant. She always did that when everyone around her lost their heads.

I smiled weakly.

"Okay." I managed to say. "Mom, I need..." pleading with my eyes for her to come closer.

"Anything dear!" she hurriedly closed the distance between us and was leaning, closer to my face now. I could see the moistness in her eyes. Definitely. She had to be crying.

"I want dark green cotton curtains in my home. The kind that are thick and don't allow light to come in. Not those white, frilly ones that are hanging there... I ... uh... well... want to..." I managed to croak out.

My mother's eyes widened in disbelief! She slowly turned her head and looked at my father, then back to me again. My father was registering bewilderment as much as my mother.

"What dear?" she asked. Clearly, my request had both of them stumped.

"Curtains mum... dark green ones. I'd love it if they were cotton ones too." I mumbled.

"Darling... what is..." mum started to say, but I interrupted her.

"Arthur always wanted those. Please mother!" I said. Not really focusing anywhere.

"You got it!" Strong. Calm. Decisive. My father.

My mother looked at my father, who nodded as if to say let her hear what she wants, as long as it will help her recover.

My mother reluctantly pulled herself away from me and went to my father. I could see them huddled, talking something, when the dizziness overcame me again. And I closed my eyes and let it claim me.

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I woke up, to find my drip gone. Feeling hungry as hell. I got up on the bed and let the initial dizziness pass. Then I began taking in my surroundings. Night. And the slumped body of my father on the chair besides me, book half open, flipped on the floor. I got up and padded barefoot. Picked the book up and kept it on the bedside.

Then I walked downstairs towards the fridge.

I was halfway through frozen chicken beans when I heard both of them. I turned around to find both of them standing in the door of the kitchen. My father, his hand around my mother's shoulder and my mother, smiling, and hands around dada's waist -- with tears in her eyes.

"Hi guys!" I mumbled through full mouth.

"Didn't I tell you?" my father asked sternly. His voice cold!

I froze. My father was rarely angry with me. I swallowed the bite and looked at mom. She was still smiling. And I was confused.

"What dada?" I asked. Genuinely puzzled.

"That you should not talk with a full mouth. How many times, eh?" I could see a smile breaking on his lips too as he said that.

And to see them there, hand in hand, so happy together, so much WITH one another, smiling and to hear my dada talk with the same tone when I was a kid, was too much for me.

I broke down.

They came to my table and I held them at their waists, they standing, me sitting. And they held me while I cried for the better part of the night.

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ARTHUR'S SIDE

To be quite honest, I was taken completely by surprise. Not to mention the fact that I was tongue-tied, when I saw Jenny take the session. When I first walked in, I saw Jenny trying to decide which sessions to attend. My first reaction was to walk out of the seminar. But then, I decided, it would be fun to watch her dig herself into a grave. My wife was on the verge of divorce, and here she was, attending seminars for her bank. She would never change. I felt I had done the correct thing now, seeing how she was not even bothered about her marriage and life, but her bank. Always the bank.

But then, when she entered the "Different Soil compositions and their impact on industrial piping", I knew something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Piping, especially industrial piping and layout architecture was what my firm thrived in. Just what would Jenny be doing in THAT session? Possibly trying to... to... try and meet me? ME? Why this interest in MY work all of a sudden?

I was curious, I admit. This is *so* unlike Jenny. I mean, I have given her enough grief to last a lifetime, and she still says she loves me. Highly unlikely given that...

I stopped my thoughts. There is nothing down this road. This was a pure co-incidence.

Jenny was here for her bank.

Not me.

I smiled a wry smile at that. Imagine me thinking anything other than THAT. I decided to wait for a while. Sure, she would be frustrated with the highly technical nature of the session. I could not see her sitting for more than 20 minutes.

When she did not come out for an hour, I knew something was up. I slapped my forehead with my palm. How could I have been SO stupid. I had gone to the men's room for about 10 minutes. She had left by then! SURELY!

I relaxed. At least, I could focus on my other session now, starting in another 2 hours. I passed my time looking around, not really focusing on anything.

But somehow, I could not feel comfortable. REALLY comfortable, knowing Jenny had been here. Looking for me. This could get ugly. She could possibly, just possibly be stalking me. And if that was the case, it would behoove me to be careful after the divorce.

These were the thoughts that stayed with me for the next two hours. That's when I ran STRAIGHT INTO HER! Imagine my shocker!

And then... GOD! Then when she told me WHY she had been here, and how she had sat through the ENTIRE 3 hours for me, JUST FOR ME, I almost felt the cloud lift from my life. Finally, maybe finally, Jenny was really coming around. Really.

And then the thoughts came, unabated. Of her so many promises, of her so many assurances, of her so many *TOKEN* presence at functions and those very rare time when she chose to grace an occasion with me -- not because it was important for me, but because her meetings were cancelled or there was an unexpected delay from her clients side. And I got angry. Angry at her for not being there for me. Angry at her for not loving me and our marriage enough. Angry at... at EVERYTHING.

And then, the image came to view.

That horrible image!

Me lying in the hospital. Diagnosed with god knows what jaundice or malaria or something, feeling weak as a kitten, not even able to sit upright, when she mentioned that the hospital staff would look after me, as she was going to take charge head-on, the first foray of her bank in Asia Pacific.

And red mist clouded my eyes.

That damn bank and her obsession with it cost me my life, my marriage, my youth, my dreams, my hopes... everything. All because she wanted to become a Vice President. A VICE PRESIDENT.

So I let it out. The anger. The hate and the frustration. The acid. And she began sobbing. And that intensified my anger. How dare she play the innocent victim? I was the one whose life was messed up, and she was the one crying? Surely, she should not have told Bernie to send that email. Never.

I came home after the seminar in a foul mood. The mood carried on even the next day even at work.

That was exactly when I got the call from my in-laws.

While I was not really on speaking terms with the entire family, I had no qualms about taking calls from my in-laws. Especially if they were once in a while and did not have the words Jenny or Jennifer or daughter in the conversation anywhere.

As I listened to my father-in-law talk to me, I felt myself breathing faster. Jenny... fighting with Bernie over that email and shouting at him? And she was not at all aware of this email, you mean, she had NO IDEA that Bernie had written this, let alone ask him to write it? And...walking out on him? Breaking all ties with him? Warning him? Calling him names?

All that because she was... DEFENDING me?

ME?

And when he said that Jenny had resigned weeks ago, I was aghast. For a moment, I could not breath. Just what the hell had that girl done? Just what had she done? The Vice Presidency was the most, THE most precious thing to her in this whole life. As she had amply proven to me over time. Again and Again. And she had resigned from it for me? To be near me? To show me that she loved me? Despite the fact that she did not know which way it would go, or whether I'd even hear of it?

This was too much, even for me. Even for all the things Jenny may have done, this piece of news made me stop. And ponder. Of course, There were other things too.

The phone call was long, and I was sure its impact would last me through the night. For the first time in many years, it did. I lay awake the whole night. Thinking. Replaying my life again and again.

15 years of neglect cannot be so easily overcome. Never!

Trusting her, that she is doing all this because she loves you, and not because of some other ulterior motive, after *such* long time. Not at All!!

But it did give her a right to talk to me at least. Let her explain what she wanted. I owed it to her. For her resignation. For her fight with Bernie. For her.. for her... GOOD BLOODY GOD!! For her GREEN CURTAINS that I always wanted, replacing those horrible looking lacey white ones which were her favorite, I owed her. And I always repay my debts.

NO! I said to myself. STOP! Stop thinking this way. Not this time. Not NOW! This time, I would have this conversation, not because I owed it to Jenny. But because she had earned it. No matter what our equation at the moment, BY GOD, She had earned her time with me! Earned a meeting with me. Had a RIGHT to have a meeting with me, regardless of what I felt or thought. And I knew. This time, I would. This time I would have to go. It was HER RIGHT!

I knew that life was here and now. And if this went by, there would be nothing. Jenny may not have changed, but at least her explanation would be tempered with reality this time. And besides, considering what she did, with the seminar, with her bank, with Bernie, I think she may have begun to feel that bit of pain that you get when you lose someone or something so near and dear to you.

And that is what I was doing this Sunday, driving over to our house. I would be meeting Jenny. Not really knowing what I wanted to say. I decided to let her lead the conversation.

I stopped at our home and got out of the car - that is when I suddenly realized.

Since when did I begin thinking of her as Jenny again!!??

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(To be continued)