A couple of hours later – I am impressed with how much progress I have made. I bubble wrapped all the glassware (minus the 3 glasses and a coffee mug that I am going to use until I move), packed tableware, pots, pans, kitchen appliances and mixing bowls. I feel a crick in my neck and my thighs are a little sore from doing packing calisthenics. I add another splash of vino to the glass and walk around the apartment. I stop to look out the window and stare across the air-shaft into the apartments across the way. I wonder if I will feel nostalgic when I leave this apartment.
I didn’t really have nostalgia from leaving Minnesota. Yes – I miss my family, friends, my haunts. But I don’t miss my old life. And wacky Minnesota politics - don't miss that either!
I hear my phone alert me to a text and set aside my glass. I walk across the living room and grab the phone.
Text from Town and Country: You awake?
Text from Desi Girl: Yep.
Text from Town and Country: I can’t sleep.
Text from Desi Girl: That is too bad.
Text from Town and Country: What are you doing up? It’s almost two a.m.
Text from Desi Girl: Packing.
Two minutes pass. I presume he has fallen asleep and just as I think to set the phone aside, I text him before going to sleep.
Text from Desi Girl: Okay – well good night.
Immediately a Text from Town and Country: Are you moving?
Text from Desi Girl: Yep. (Why else would I be packing?!)
Text from Town and Country: Where are you going?
Text from Desi Girl: I don’t know.
Text from Town and Country: Are you going back to Minnesota?
Text from Desi Girl: No, not yet. I was thinking since the recession is kicking in I can get an apartment in another ‘hood – like the Upper East Side.
Text from Town and Country: Okay – good. I was worried that you were leaving New York. And I don’t want you to go.
Sometimes when we are texting, a part of me is wondering who he is dating. And I don’t know what would break my heart more – learning that he has picked some silicone Park Avenue Barbie or that he selected a dumpy FOB woman from the Patiala pindh in Punjab who can roll round round rotis. While I am not ready to hear he picked anyone instead of me. There was NO part of me that was ready to hear that he doesn’t want me to leave New York – because most days he doesn’t seem to notice that I am in New York.
He says just enough to keep me hooked. I want to hate him – but cannot.