CHAPTER 4
1898 Words
BRIE
“Brie, please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing.” Caroline sighs; I could hear the eye roll through the phone. I’d sent her a quick fit check video, and she called immediately to scold me.
I was wearing a black jean dungaree dress, with a plain short-sleeved T-shirt and I pair of white sneakers. I had my hair in a messy bun, wore minimal make-up and no jewelry.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“It’s too basic. You look like Handy Manny if he was a cross-dresser.”
“What the f**k Caroline?”
“Just switch to video so I can judge you in real-time.”
I rolled my eyes but still complied nevertheless. I set my phone on the stand and moved back so she could see the full fit.
“Ewwwwwwwww. Wait turn, I want to see if it’ll look good from another angle.”
I obediently turn in all directions possible.
“God you look like………”
“Stop,” I say, cutting her off. “Quit making such a fuss and tell me what’s wrong with the fit.”
“Tell you what’s wrong with it? Girl, there’s nothing right with it. How are you going to impress Dubai chocolate dressed like that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your aim is to impress your roommate, not scare him away with your pathetic and honestly concerning fashion choices.”
“First of all, I’m not trying to impress him. Secondly, he’s not even from Dubai. How’d you come up with ‘Dubai chocolate?”
“We don’t know where that fine ass is from and until we do, I’ll assume he is from the fine ass soils of Dubai. Now change.”
“We’re just going to get furniture and he’s obviously Indian.”
“You need him and everyone around you to respect you the second you walk through the door. You’re CEO Brie, dress the part at all times. Plus, you know how Indian parents are. They’ll never let you marry him if they aren’t impressed.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“Just go change.”
“Fine. I’ll change.”
“Thank you. Now I have to go. Dustin’s been up since four because baby Richard is fuzzy and if he sees me awake he’s going to pass the baton.”
“You are going to have to wake up eventually, or he’ll think you’re dead.”
“The nanny will be here in like thirty minutes and I pretended to take some sleeping pills yesterday so he’ll think I’m still passed out from them.”
“The man has to go to work.”
“He’s the boss; they’re not going to fire him.”
“You are a terrible person. Michael and Jules are already at your parents' and you have a nanny for Richard.”
“I’m just a tired mom who’s giving the responsibility of taking care of her kids to other people for the week.”
“You’re a bad mom,” I stupidly blurted out without thinking. Fuck
“Go have three kids of your own, and we’ll circle back to this conversation.” She hangs up.
I guess she’s mad.
I take off the Dungaree and put on a pair of black pants instead. I changed the shoes to a pair of black Tiffany &Co T lock pumps. I put on some dainty gold jewelry, put on some more make-up and I put my hair in a slick bun instead of a messy one. I scan myself in my full-length mirror and then send a picture to Caroline for final approval, but she reacts with thumbs up.
Great, I get an ‘E’ for effort. Now I owe her a big ass apology.
By the time I step out of my room, Arjun is nowhere to be found. I was about to start fuming when I noticed a note on the floor by the door. “You took too long, went to the car. P. S we’re taking my car.”
I quickly ran back into my room to grab a coat and head out.
I got to the garage and quickly found Arjun’s car. It was pretty easy; it was the only one with a man franticly waving his hands in the air clearly scolding someone over the phone.
I walk over to the car and get in the passenger seat. He switches from call to call for about 45 minutes while I sit there scrolling through t****k and ignoring important emails.
When he finally drops the call, he turns to me ready to complain, but I stop him before he can get a word out.
“I am not one of your employees that you can just boss around and talk s**t to. If you have a problem with me, write it in your diary or tell it to a therapist or even tweet it, but do not, under any circumstances, ever yell at me or disrespect me. Are we clear?” I say, waving my finger in his face.
He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. He just kept opening and closing his mouth but no words came out.
“If you have nothing to say, can we go? Like you said, some of us actually have real jobs.”
I fix my eyes back on my phone screen like nothing even happened while he drives in silence. I act like I’m chill and all but deep down I’m celebrating shutting the tyrant up.
The showroom rose three stories above Greene Street, all glass, steel and enough minimalist furniture to make a museum look cluttered. Through the windows I could see rows of sofas, dining tables, lighting fixtures and carefully curated displays.
Arjun turned off the engine and stepped out of the car first. He just stood there adjusting his cuffs, clearly waiting for me to step out.
You can’t even open a door for a lady or anything?
“You look nervous.” I said to him, shutting my door.
“I look cautious.”
“It’s just furniture. “
“Let’s just get this over with.”
As soon as we step into the showroom, he heads straight for a set of abstract couches designed to damage the human spine.
“This looks good,” he says, assessing the couch.
“Yeah, but we need one that will make us actually want to sit in the living room...”
“What are you talking about? Who wouldn’t want to sit in the living room when they see this?”
“People who want to be able to use their backs after sitting on it.”
“What are you talking about?” He sits on it and his back immediately tenses. He shifts in it for a while and then stands up looking defeated.
“I have a list of what we need and where we need it, and we are not going to fill our apartment up with sorrows,” I say, emphasizing the fact that the first piece of furniture he chose was black.
“Why not? It’s going to be MY place soon anyway.”
“You’re such a child.”
“What’s first on your dumb list?”
“A couch, but one that won’t kill people.”
“Okay, pick a couch.”
I picked a grey two-seater with matching armchairs.
“Test it out.”
He sits on it and moves around a little, then gets up and nods his head lightly.
“It’s okay. But I thought you wanted color?”
‘What? You thought I’d pick a bright red couch and decorate it with pink and purple accessories.” I snickered and walked away.
He keeps walking towards dark and hazardous furniture; a black coffee table with edges that could tear souls, black bar stools that’ll probably have their own ladders for climbing to sit, worse of all a gold plant in a black vase that looked toxic.
“Are you depressed?”
He looked at me, confused.
“Excuse me?”
“Everything you pick looks like a murder weapon.”
“It’ll look good with the aesthetics of the place.”
“The walls are beige and baby green and the floor is a hard wood floor. Would Deadly Black compliment that?” I noticed he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking around me. Apparently we'd been putting on quite the show since the moment we walked in.
“So we're only getting bright furniture?”
“Black isn’t the only dark color.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You are too, but you don’t see me making a newspaper publication about it, do you?”
“Let’s just get this over with.”
For the next hour everything is either too impractical or an environmental hazard. From shelves to rugs, plants; especially plants.
“You can’t be serious.”
I say, staring at the white fern plant he’d selected.
“I’m dead ass.”
“It’s white.”
“It’s elegant.”
“It’s toxic.”
“It’s a plant.”
“It’s plastic.”
“It’s recycled plastic. I know this because I’ve worked with this company before.”
“We’re not getting fake plants.”
“Why are you so difficult?”
“Real plants make the air in your home more breathable.”
He just stares at me blankly.
“Plants release oxygen and we breathe in oxygen. So, the more fresh plants we have in our house, the more fresh oxygen. Living with you is toxic enough as it is. I don’t need your fake plants choking me to death.”
It’s already 11:30 and so far we only have the couch and throw pillows. We decided to have brunch at a café near the showroom. I’m frustrated, angry and exhausted.
“We need to find a way to compromise; we’ve done nothing but argue all day.”
“Let’s just forget it, we already have a couch.”
“We’ll figure out a compromise.”
“We don’t have to do this together. Just pick out whatever stuff you want, and I’ll pay, and you write me a check for your half. I won’t be home much anyway.”
I felt hurt. We might have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I really hoped that this would be a chance for us to get to understand each other a bit more. We live together; hating each other is too exhausting.
I pick out all the furniture and décor while Arjun takes phone call after phone call. Doesn’t he have an assistant or something? He pays, still engrossed in his call. I put down our address, the furniture will be delivered tomorrow morning. They give us a basket on our way out which is very sweet and homey. I mean it is a furniture showroom.
“I’m late for a meeting, call an Uber,” he says, getting in his car and driving off. I just stand there, staring in utter disbelief and shock that that man actually left me stranded. No warning, no proper conversation.
I have been nothing but nice, and he’s just being an entitled prick. He wants a spoiled princess. He’ll get a spoiled princess.
- Writer
