The Bill

It was a grand celebration for completion of 25 years of my company, where I joined a year ago. Enjoying the new post as the head, promoted me two months ago, I was finally keen on applying light makeup, which I rarely do. Also, I bought a knee slit maroon body tight dress. I donned a fine silver chain complementing my dusky complexion and tied my hair into a bun, baby hairs falling off on my face.

Loud music and conversation all around, the party was filled with excitement. I was sitting with my team, having a glass of wine at the bar and watching the many new faces of the company. They had come from all around the country specifically for this celebration.

A man with shabby beard, a straight nose and brown eyes walked past me, shaking hands with my colleagues and greeting them in a loud enthusiasm. His conversations were really funny. He filled our group with laughter, especially me.

Finally after half an hour of chatter, he seemed to have noticed me, smiled at me and put forward his arm,

"Charlie, and you?" He asked as he shook hands with me.

"Bella" I replied with a blush.

“So you are the head writer?”

“Yes, and what about you?

“I am the senior editor–in–chief for Delhi branch” he winked.

“Oh! I have been working on a story from Delhi recently.” I smiled.

“In that case, I hope you won’t put me down, as now you know very well who will edit your Delhi stories.” He smirked. “Anyways, it is the first time we are having a female head writer, that too at Mumbai. Let’s see how well you can write about crime and politics.” His face looked puzzled.

My smile faded away. A gush of heat passed through my abdomen to my head which came out of my mouth “Since when did someone start to notice the gender of a head?” everyone looked at us raptly as I questioned him. There was silence at the bar.

“Oh, No!” he tried to utter.

“And do you doubt my capabilities just on the basis of my gender? I cut him in between along with a smirk so as to not sound rude, “Then I may doubt yours on the basis of your perception.” I said calmly.

“No Madam, you are taking me wrong, I was just…” he gabbled without an answer.

I kept looking at him for a reply. A drop of shame and guilt was pouring from his wide brown eyes. Such a handsome man I thought he was till he opened his mouth for a conversation.

“I did not doubt you. I was just trying to play around.” He said and waited for me to respond.

Since I couldn’t digest the ‘playing around’ I said nothing and he had to continue “I am sorry if it hurt you.” He tried to correct himself.

“I hope you will like my story then.” I accepted his apology.

We smiled at each other and the silence was broken by a colleague who passed me a plate of veg paneer chillies.

It had been 3 months since the party night. Charlie was getting along well with me through phone calls over more than a dozen Delhi stories I wrote. He also was an avid reader and writer of poems, just like me. So we soon started exchanging poems on text messages.

“You seem so sensitive of human emotions which you bring out in your poems very subtly.” He replied to a poem of mine.

My cheeks were blown as my lips curled up and I kept staring at his message. “Thank you!” I replied with little shaky fingers.

“By the way, I am coming to Mumbai next week for a meeting.” popped up another message.

Before I could reply anything, “I love the coffee shop at the corner of our office.” was the next text.

I gawked and reread the last message, with confusion. Was he asking me out? But then why does he have to be so indirect? I rolled my eyes over this thought and replied “Great!”

“Such a complex attitude!” I complained to my friend Olivia during snack time that day. “Cannot even ask out straight ahead!” I kept the tea mug with a bang, spilling out few drops.

“Men ego” shrugged Olivia, “Can it ever get less important?” she took in a spoon of Maggie.

I agreed with her when my phone beeped again. “I would love it if you joined me in for a coffee.” Read another text which made my frustration sway up!

Olivia observed me as she read the text and tried to calm me down “May be he is just awkward to ask straight away. Don’t judge now. May be it’s because of your last meeting at the party.” I couldn’t agree less with her and replied him “Sure!”

The week passed on with a pillow of excitement and nervousness hitting me every now and then when finally it was the weekend. This time I had decided not to deck up with makeup and ornaments and meet him the way I was. I simply slipped into a pair of blue jeans and white sleeveless top.

“How can you not deck up? It’s your FIRST DATE!” replied Olivia to my not-so-in-the-mood date plan.

“Who said it’s a date? Remember I have to JOIN him for a coffee?” I replied.

I saw him at the entrance of the coffee shop wearing a dark brown full-sleeved t-shirt and white pants. I approached him and first thing I observed were his eyes matching to his t-shirt. He shook my hand, breaking my thought and we went in.

I actually liked the fact that he didn’t pull a chair for me. I ordered chocolate milkshake for myself and an espresso for him. It was a bit awkward initially but then we discussed our love for beverages and writing and the conversation went on smoothly like the ice-cream in my milkshake.

The bill was brought in by the waiter and even though I had stretched my hand for it, he handed it directly to Charlie, who was on a call.

“Give it to me” I told the waiter with a smile, my arms still stretch.

He looked at Charlie with a blank expression and gave me the bill. Charlie clenched the bill on time from the waiter’s hand “Oh, no, no, no need, its ok, I’ll pay.” He said with a smile.

 “We’ll split”. I frowned

“What, No, I am paying.” He chuckled. “Does it look good if a girl pays when she is with a guy?” He fidgeted in his wallet.

Questions were bursting in my mind. “Does it look good if SOMEONE doesn’t pay their share of buy?”

He handed the credit card to the waiter and said “But you are with me.”

I scowled as much as my face muscles allowed me to and said “Am I a little baby? Or am I dependent on you?”

His eyes widened and he chuckled. “Okay fine! I cannot win from you Madam!” he smiled.

Bowing a little and hand on his chest he said, “350 is the share” with the other hand stretched in front of me for the cash.

I gave him the cash value and we left the shop. My mood wasn’t allowing me to listen to any of his stories anymore. I felt like arguing over his attitude towards females, as how he puts them under men but couldn’t get the opportunity.

“And I have a little sister.” He said as we crossed the road towards our office, “We have a gap of 8 whole years in between us. I have always pampered her not only like an elder brother but also like a father.” I knit my eyebrows and looked at him. He saw my confused expression and continued “Oh no, not that serious drama type story. Our father was a great businessman. Just bad health for a prolonged period of time and he left us when I was 12.” He gave a forceful chuckle. We reached our office, near my cabin.

“So enough about me. What’s your story Miss Queen of Jhansi?” He winked. Before I could answer, a staff came towards us and informed that I have a meeting with the boss. I bid goodbye to Charlie and left with the staff.

“So is it because of his past that he acts so ‘Protective-Responsible-Man’?” Olivia questioned me with a puzzled face during lunch the next day.

“Protective? Responsible? Where does this come from? He thinks he is above women! Can’t you see that?” I burst out on her with a hushed voice.

“He didn’t want you to pay the bill because that has become his nature; due to the responsibilities on his shoulders he always had, of two women, especially of a little girl.” She tried to explain me. I couldn’t comprehend her point of view.

As I tucked in my bed that night, my phone beeped.

“……………..My dad cum bro,

He is a fake when refuses to buy stuff,

And returns with better ones.

In anger he scolds,

For low marks and teacher notes,…………………

It’s a poem by my sister, she’s learning.” There was a wink and a grinning emoticon in his text message.

I could sense Charlie’s fatherly responsibilities in his sister’s poem.

“Was Olivia right about Charlie at the lunch? Is this the attitude he got because of his upbringing? Was I judging him too early or without even knowing about him?” I thought to myself as I replied him “Your sister seems really cute!”

“But he thinks girls aren’t that good at work, as it seemed from our first meeting at the party. But can that just be a concern about a girl working hard, and, independently?” Lost in my deep thoughts, I fell asleep.