Bull's Eye
Chapter 7
She was dying. There was no other explanation for the intense throbbing in her head and the aching everywhere else. Thankfully, death didn't seem so horrible in comparison to living with this hangover. Divya opened her eyes feebly, fighting not to shut them again in agony when light from the window fell on her face. What had she drunk last night? More importantly, exactly how much had she drunk last night?
Deciding that sleeping off her hangover was the best choice, Divya ignored the clock on the bedside table that read 9:43 a.m. and buried her face into the pillow she'd been resting upon. Abruptly, she realized that this pillow wasn't hers. For one thing, it was blue instead of lavender. It didn't smell like her usual fabric softener, but like men's soap and the ocean and something indefinable but extremely irresistible.
It smelled like Evan.
She shot off the bed despite the protests of her weary body, quickly scanning the room and confirming that she had indeed spent the night in Evan's bed. When she looked down at her body, she emitted a strangled gasp as she realized that she was wearing his clothes. Memories started flitting back to her as she fully awoke.
She had drunk way too much wine at dinner in a feeble attempt to eliminate her problems.
Then she halfheartedly and awkwardly tried to seduce Raj.
They went back to his hotel room and uncomfortably kissed for a bit.
Divya eventually vomited and ran out in shame.
Then she called Evan.
And went home with Evan.
Where she made out with Evan.
…Oh God. She needed to vomit again.
As she threw up for the second time in twelve hours, Divya decided that she was never drinking again. Ever. Because, apparently, drinking led Divya to lowered inhibitions and bad decisions, things that she couldn't afford when in Evan's presence.
The fact that she had been sleeping in his bed only intensified her panic. Had she done anything besides kiss Evan? She frantically tried to remember what had happened after the kiss, but could only recall Evan regretfully pushing her off of him as she tried to will him toward the bed, after which she promptly fainted. Oh, God. If Evan—Evan, of all people —hadn't been so chivalrous, she could have woken up with much bigger problems.
But her heart involuntarily warmed. Evan after she had attacked him, Evan had obviously picked her up off the ground where she had passed out and had tucked her into bed. But she shook her head—now was not the time to focus on that. She had much more serious things to attend to than obsessing over Evan's kindness.
How could she face Raj after the fiasco that was last night? Should she tell him that she had kissed another man? She really shouldn't base her marriage on lies. Which, Divya thought bitterly, was ironic, because they were both lying when they said that this marriage is what they really wanted. But still, although Raj didn't love her, it could still hurt him to know that she had found in Evan what she could never find in him.
Oh God. Evan.
If she had thought that seeing Raj again would be difficult, she knew that seeing Evan would be ten times worse. Divya decided that it would be better to think about that later, when her head wasn't going to explode. Right now, she had to find out how to escape the Lawsons' house without drawing attention to her current situation.
After a hurried scrub of her toothbrush, Divya grabbed her clothes and shoes from last night and crept out the bedroom door, trying to be as silent as possible. She fervently hoped that no one would have to witness her first walk of shame—it seemed only fair after last night's debacle that she not be subjected to any more disgrace.
"Divya?"
Apparently, life was not fair.
Hank and Ginger were sitting at the kitchen table, reviewing patient files and eating breakfast. Hank's fork, loaded with pancakes and syrup, was frozen halfway between his plate and mouth as he took in Divya's unusual appearance. The embarrassment was never going to end; Ginger and Hank both looked pristine and professional, while Divya was unsuccessfully trying to sneak out of her boss's brother's bedroom with a stolen toothbrush, serious bed-head, and a HankMed tee-shirt that didn't belong to her fiancée, all while being about an hour late to work.
"Did you—erm—" he paused, apparently searching for a polite way to ask, "Did you just come out of Evan's bedroom, Divya?"
Ignoring the thumbs-up and excessive winking that Ginger was shooting her behind Hank's back, Divya replied in what she prayed was a nonchalant voice, "Oh, yes. Yes, I did."
"Oh," said Hank. "Okay, then. I was wondering why your car was here."
"I spent the night here." Hank put the fork down on his plate. "Not with Evan! Just in his bed. He was not with me in the bed," Divya explained weakly.
Hank nodded slowly, then gestured toward her outfit. "You're… wearing his clothes."
"Yeah… that looks bad, doesn't it?" Was her voice usually this high? It seemed more squeaky than usual. "He just gave me his clothes because I had to take mine off." Upon seeing Hank's shocked face and Ginger's amused one, Divya hurried to add, "But I only took mine off because I vomited on mine." Ginger and Hank visibly recoiled. "Not because I was sick! I was just really intoxicated. That's actually why I made Evan give me a ride last night." Ginger let what Divya considered to be a very unprofessional giggle escape her lips. "He gave me a ride home. Because I couldn't drive. So he gave me a ride home. Well, not really to my home, but to his."
Hank looked stunned. "So… nothing—weird happened… between you two?"
"Um." Divya decided that feigning deafness would be easier than lying to Hank, especially when it concerned how she had essentially sexually assaulted his brother last night. "I'm sorry, but do you have any ibuprofen? My head is absolutely killing me."
Hank nodded slowly, mystification still written all over his face. Ginger reached into her medicine bag and pulled out a bottle, tossing it to Divya. As she swallowed three pills, Divya absentmindedly noticed that Ginger's bag was freshly emblazoned with the same HankMed logo that she was currently sporting on her chest.
Hank, who was apparently still trying to figure out exactly what had happened between his little brother and his P.A., said hesitantly, "Divya, do you want to take the day off? It looks like you need some time to recuperate."
Incredibly thankful, Divya nodded and shamefacedly grabbed the bag with the clothes that she had been wearing before her date. As she pulled her skirt on in the bathroom, she received a text. She rummaged through her bag until she pulled out her phone.
It was from Raj. "Brunch at Pacino's at 10:30? Want to discuss last night. I'll bring your purse." Divya groaned. She was not looking forward to this, but knew that she owed it to Raj. She glanced in the mirror to gauge how desperate the hair and makeup situation was, uselessly tried to subdue her wild tresses, and admitted defeat before quickly walking toward the door.
Before she left, she went back to ask Hank and Ginger in the same supposedly offhand voice, "Um, so… Is Evan here?"
Smirking infuriatingly, Ginger answered, "No, he's at an early morning business meeting. Or an E.M.B.M., as he told me to call it."
"Oh, so you saw him this morning."
"Yes," Ginger smiled mischievously. "And he was acting kind of weird, wasn't he, Hank? Nervous, almost. Kind of guilty. And he was wearing the same thing you are, Divya."
Divya didn't like the inkling of comprehension that was forming in Hank's eyes. He glanced at Divya uncertainly, turned back to see Ginger's smirk, and his eyes widened significantly. Turning back, Hank looked like he wanted to continue questioning her, so Divya quickly said goodbye and fled to her car before he got the chance.
When she arrived at Pacino's, she snorted bitterly. She couldn't believe that Raj had chosen the same place to talk about their total absence of physical compatibility as Divya had chosen to interview Ginger. She was sure that there was some sort of irony to be found, but her head ached too much to muddle through it.
Raj was already at a table, so she sat across from him and twisted her hands nervously on the white tablecloth. He nudged her purse and a large mug of coffee toward her, shooting her a small smile. Divya tried to mirror it, though she was fairly certain that it looked like more of a grimace.
"Raj," she began earnestly. "I am so sorry about last night. I never get that drunk—last night notwithstanding—"
"Divya," Raj interrupted. "Please…There is no need to apologize." At Divya's incredulous stare, he shrugged and amended, "Well, maybe a bit of a need. But what I need for you to do right now is to listen to me."
Divya's abdomen began to cramp with apprehension. Raj was looking very serious, and she was terrified that she had destroyed all chances for even a superficially happy marriage.
"After you left last night, I went straight to sleep," Raj began. "I was exhausted and drunk…but more than anything, I felt anxious and hurt. I felt that we had done something wrong…" Raj smiled at Divya apologetically. "What we did last night—it seemed like a lie. You didn't really want to be with me like that, correct?" Divya nodded in shame, and Raj kindly held her hand across the table. "I understand. At least, I do now."
"What do you mean?" Divya croaked. She felt ridiculously close to tears.
Raj's thumb rubbed over the back of her hand soothingly. He sighed, and said, "Divya, I know that you've had misgivings about our strategic marriage for a long time. I know that this was forced on you, and I know that you've been trying to make the best out of a situation that you have very little control over." He glanced at her guiltily before saying, "I'm ashamed to say that I didn't pay attention to your doubts. I thought that if we ignored the problems, then they would go away. I thought that you would realize that your fears were natural, but unnecessary. Instead, I realized that your fears were natural…and completely right."
Divya looked at Raj in astonishment. "What… What do you mean, Raj?"
"We are not good together, Divya. I've always known that on some level, but last night really made me think about it." Divya squeezed his hand. He continued, "You are my best friend, and I wish you every happiness. And, selfishly enough, I do not want to have a wife that regrets marrying me. I want happiness too."
Taken aback by his bluntness, Divya said, "Raj, what are you getting at?"
"I no longer wish to marry you."
Divya's mouth gaped in disbelief. "Wh—uh…"
Raj chuckled kindly at her surprise. "Divya, you cannot pretend that you have ever wanted me to be your husband!"
"Well, no. Not especially. Oh, Raj, I am so sorry—"
Raj waved his hand airily. "You mustn't apologize! Weren't you listening to my tale of drunken epiphanies? Both of us want the same thing: not to marry each other."
Divya laughed shakily. "I just—I can't believe this. Are you sure?"
"Yes. Are you sure?"
Her giggle of exultation answered his question. Raj smiled and said, "I'm very relieved that you do not wish to marry me, because I'm afraid that it's not an option for you any longer."
"Excuse me?"
Raj grimaced apologetically. "I'm afraid that my parents visited me this morning. And they saw… Well, they saw the results of last night."
Divya winced. Raj's parents had seen the purse that she had left in his living room and the bathroom that she had destroyed. "What did you say to them?" she asked cautiously.
"Well, I said that you'd been here last night. They looked very suspicious about that. I suppose I probably appeared both guilty and hung-over… But then I realized that I had an opportunity… That we had an opportunity." Raj looked at Divya pleadingly.
Divya felt dread curl in her stomach. "Raj, would you please just tell me—"
"I told them that you showed up to my room, completely drunk, and tried to seduce me."
"What the—"
"And then I told them that it wasn't the first time that this had happened. I said that you had a history of alcoholism and—sorry about this—nymphomania."
"Nympho—RAJ," Divya exploded. "I can't believe this! Oh, your parents must think I'm… Oh, God! They'll never want me to see you again—" Her eyes widened as she began to understand exactly why Raj looked so cheerful. "Oh. You made sure they wouldn't want me to marry you."
Raj nodded excitedly. "Exactly. They don't want the Bhandiopdhai family name to be sullied by being related to a woman who is addicted to alcohol and sex."
Divya worriedly said, "But my parents! I don't want them to think that I'm… that way."
"Don't worry," Raj said soothingly. "I convinced my parents that it would be less shameful for us not to let anyone know the reasons behind our broken engagement. My parents were fairly easy to persuade; I guess they really didn't want people to believe that we'd been consorting with your type. All your parents know is that my parents have called off the engagement for 'irreconcilable differences'."
Divya grinned triumphantly. Her cell phone shrilled suddenly, and her glance at the caller ID revealed that her parents were calling her. She stood up, enthusing, "Oh, Raj, thank you so, so much… I'm sure that I have to go do some damage control for my parents right now, but before I'm swept away in that, I just want you to know that I meant what I said last night. You really are an amazing friend, and I'm just so grateful." She hugged him tightly, trying to convey as much affection and appreciation into the farewell as she possibly could, before answering her phone with an airy, "Hello, Mum. I suppose you must have heard…"
