Gone Wrong

Them

Hridhi Chatterjee:

If I were to describe my mother, I would use only one word--

Perfection.

She was literally perfect. In grace, intellect and sense.

She looked like a tragically defeated princess draped in velvet and silk and cut open with a shiny silver dagger glistening with a red, perfectly red and perfectly shaped little drop of blood.

So perfectly human. So perfectly who I always wanted to be.

She was so nice. So good. So polite. So...I don't know...perfect?

It was totally like how the bots commented on every channel,

'She is a perfect combination of beauty annd grace. So inspiring!' Followed by a whirlpool of pink emojis.

Maybe I had a secret, a petty dark secret : I was jealous of my own mother.

You know why?

It was because she was always..always right.

And there was only one ambition in my whole stinking life: To prove her wrong.

The moment I thought of pressing the publish button, I knew the outcome the way I knew the back of my hand.

It was that obvious.

I texted my mother the next second:

Spare key under mat.

Maybe she would notice, right after she had cleaned the entire house for 6 times and dusted the shelves like my father's perfect wife.

I silenced my phone right after that. My cameraman looked at me with dovelike eyes.

"What's up?"

I shrugged my shoulders like the directors at Marvel movies lying about a new release any time soon.

Jake even insisted on taking me to the bar. And at last, I finally agreed. He drove me to the nearest one. It had a lively atmosphere. People here were damn serious about drinking, I must say. So many people. So many dim colored shirt. Such randomly mixed scents lingering in the air.

The bar was buzzing with lights.

Red.

Blue

Red

Blue

I smiled at Jake while he paid the bill. His cheeks were red, like the sweet guys like him go with cheap champagne.

"Let me buy you another one," I offered.

He protested.

"Perhaps next time. Anyway, will I drop you home?"

I shook my head, my phone vibrating against my thighs.

Not now. Please. I was not ready for her lecture.

"Issues?" Jake asked me.

I shook my head again and cast a fake smile.

"Goodnight, Jake."

********

I looked at my doorstep. He was not home. Thank God, he was not home. I finally took a deep breath, like a child famishing the absence of Their math teacher.

I took out my key. But unfortunately, it was unlocked.

And it was opened ajar, waiting, like the way a lion waits hours and hours for the zebra to come closer.

I felt like that zebra.

I found myself face to face with my parents sitting in the living room.

"Why weren’t you picking up your phone, Hridhi?" asked my mother, her phone on the coffee table.

"Oh, ma, I was actually in a really important meeting with the camera crew."

I was trembling without any reason because my mother had big eyes and stared at me as if she could see my tar black soul.

My father however, looked at his phone. f*******: still hadn’t been outdated in Bengal, I guess.

"Hridhi, I can bet that you were in the bar," said my mother. "Sit down. Sit beside me."

She gestured me to the empty Ottoman in front of her and I sat like the obedient little kid she had raised.

She glared at my father before she continued,

"Will you explain what just happened?"

I explained. From his hands on her waist and him f*****g her at hotels. I had proof. I said I had his transaction receipts amd everything. Journalists had access to things like that. CCTV footages are our left hand and fishing out answers from stubborn people was our right.

After I had finished, my mother stared at the ceiling. She was in thinking mode. Deep thinking mode.

And the uncomfortable silence was something my father hadn’t gotten used to.

"We can wait till Advik arrives, Hiya,"

"No," interrupted my mother.

"Hridhi, let's talk in your room."

I followed her to my room. I knew why. She wouldn’t be able to keep her cool with my father's constant questions that I stored inside my stomach.

"Ma, I have one and only thing to say. I am leaving him." I said. "Look, all the powerful women out there divorce their cheat of a husband and lives happily ever after."

"This is not how it works, Hridhi. You have my blood in you. This is not how marriages work."

"Ma, he literally cheated on me!"

My mother smiled.

"Come on, Hridhi, don't pretend to be a saint. You are also dating guys like a whore."

"Wait, at least I didn't slee--"

"Hridhi, I have seen the world for a longer time. You came from ME. I know that you are obsessed with him. Don't lie."

Her words struck me like lightning in the sky. Fire burnt through my blood vessels. I wanted to lash at her. Burn her. Throw spit at her and tell her it was NOT TRUE.

"I hate him, ma. I don't like him."

"So lame, Hridhi. You are still not convincing enough. You are more like convincing yourself."

"No, ma! You are wrong like you always are."

Just then, the door bell rang and my heart almost bursted out of its ribs.

"Perfect!" said my mother. "Advik is here."