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Shit! Four-fifteen already. Rakesh threw aside the quilt, bolted upright in bed, and looked over his shoulder at the rumpled sheets and Kartik’s sleeping frame. He should have been in the office an hour ago. Not only had he missed the three o’clock teleconference, he was late for the four o’clock board meeting. He sifted through the pile of mixed clothing and dressed quickly, tightening the tie around his neck. How much longer could he sustain this double-life, living in two places at once?
He slipped on a gray blazer and straightened the collar. If he hurried, he could make it to the office in fifteen minutes and say a stubborn client held him up after an extra-long lunch meeting or—
His mobile rang.
He grabbed the beeping instrument and glanced at Kartik as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Dr. Kishore, here. Good to know you’re back, my son.”
Son?
“I left several messages for you over the last few weeks. Did you get them?”
“No,” he lied, lowering his tone so as not to wake Kartik. “I’ve been traveling, working and—”
“You missed your appointment last week. It’s important I see you,” Dr. Kishore’s voice tightened. “Can you be here in an hour?”
Rakesh glanced at his watch. Four-twenty. He had to get to the meeting immediately.
He slid a foot in a black leather Bally and the room tilted right. He caught the wall for support.
“Hello? Are you there?” Dr. Kishore asked. “Are you all right?”
“I’m—” He closed his eyes and gulped. “I’ll be there.”
***
Dr. Kishore, a man in his late fifties, rose from behind a brown desk, reached out to shake Rakesh’s hand, then gestured for him to sit in a chair facing the desk.
Folders and loose papers formed a neat stack to Dr. Kishore’s left. Atop a long, wooden cabinet behind him, photographs of a woman in a blue sari and a teenage boy smiled from silver photo frames. Medical texts filled open bookshelves above. On the remaining walls hung detailed charts of the human body, certificates, and plaques honoring the doctor’s achievements.
“I shouldn’t have missed the appointment.” Rakesh pulled back a chair and sat down.
“I agree, Dhanrajji.” Dr. Kishore flipped open a folder.
“Call me Rakesh, please.” Manners were important.
“How are you feeling, Rakesh?”
“Tired. Fed up.” He left out the dizziness and recent chest pain.
“Are you eating well?”
He looked past the doctor to a teenage boy’s photograph.
“Have you cut down on drinking alcohol, like we discussed last time?”
“Yes,” Rakesh lied.
Dr. Kishore raised an eyebrow. “And the fatigue is still there?”
“All this pressure at work.”
“I’m very sorry to hear this. Based on results from recent bloodwork, you have to take care of your health first.” Dr. Kishore reached for a pen and poised the tip over the open file’s topmost sheet.
Rakesh noticed a list of about thirty items boxed in a table and leaned forward as Dr. Kishore circled “CT Scan,” “MRI,” “Blood,” “Liver,” “Abdominal,” and “Rectal.”
“I’d like you to get these tests done as soon as you can.” He slid the paper to Rakesh. “Once I get the results, I’ll have my office call you and schedule an appointment.”
“I don’t have time for all this. I’ll be fine. I’ll just take a vacation or—”
“The kind of pressure you’re dealing with can damage your health in the long run. You have to understand....” Dr. Kishore droned on, like Papa did when he reneged on his promise that Rakesh would take over Dhanraj & Son after Rakesh graduated from Harvard.
Rakesh’s head throbbed.
“I don’t want you to wait until it’s too late to....”
After Rakesh kept his end of the promise, Papa declared that he intended to go public with the company, which meant Rakesh would lose any chance of keeping full control of the company. The public offering never happened. Three years later, Rakesh married Sheetal. A year later, he paid for Naina’s over-the-top wedding, and the avalanche of bills drowned him in debt. The sensation was like the walls that were now closing in on him. Rakesh pressed a palm against his forehead, attempting to muffle Papa’s droning voice.
“You must take this seriously.”
Papa had been serious when he insisted that Rakesh work his way up while, the whole time, Papa planned for the company’s “public” future. Rakesh almost retched at the thought. Why work his way up when Papa had promised Dhanraj and Son would be his as long as he kept his end of the deal?
“I’m afraid, if you don’t stop drinking....”
Fear. Fear chilled like the ice-cold glass of scotch in his hand when he stumbled out from behind the curtain for a clearer view. He could still hear the clatter of ice cubes striking the glass.
Papa thumped a hand on his chest and gasped for air as seventeen-year-old Naina staggered back and screamed.
“Rakesh. Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been talking to you. Where are you? What’s wrong with you?”
“Just distracted. That’s all. Work pressure.”
“Results from all the prescribed tests will help determine the next steps. I’m sure you’ll have to make a few lifestyle changes, but I want to emphasize that you must stop drinking immediately or....”
“It’s hard, doctor. I’ll try, but—”
“This is serious! Rakesh....” Dr. Kishore’s voice grew louder. Too loud. He went on and on and ignored him, like Papa had ignored him when Rakesh rationalized that Papa couldn’t go back on his word and make him work his way up from the bottom.
Rakesh pushed his chair back. An acute pain sizzled the back of his head and he clenched his jaw.
“...all right? Rakesh? What’s wrong? Come. Sit down. Nurse!” Dr. Kishore called. “Come quickly.”
Rakesh rose, pushed away the doctor’s hand, and left.
***
Rakesh waited to cross the street to the parking deck and watched a man and boy about Yash’s age, nearly identical in appearance, approach along the opposite sidewalk. The boy, who wore navy trousers, a white shirt, a tie, and a gray school bag humped on his back, chatted to the gentleman. Probably a father picking up his son from school.
Rakesh’s heart knotted with regret.
Four men in business suits strolled past the two, and the gentleman put an arm around the boy’s shoulder and pulled him close.
Rakesh ached to pick up Yash from school and have him spend an afternoon at the office like other dads and sons did. He couldn’t because Sheetal had banished their son to the mountains in the middle of nowhere to keep Yash away from him.
So fucking overprotective!
He crossed the road and consciously released the pressure of molar pushing on molar.
No matter how hard he tried to give Yash the best of everything—imported toys, clothes, customized furniture—Sheetal still complained.
The buildings on his left blurred into gray, like the finely printed words of the rejection letter he’d read and reread until his eyes grew dry. The board members had expressed shock when he informed them last week, had probably mocked his dilemma, and had scheduled today’s meeting to resolve the issue before his discussions with Tashukomo’s CEO.
Fuck! He smacked his heel against the concrete. With only six months left to repay the loan, he had to do everything in his power to coax the Japanese to buy into his scheme—even if that meant kissing their asses.