Page 143 of Cakes for the Grump
“He could have chosen you,” says Noor.
“He’s the head of Abbot Industries. He’s earned it. You don’t know what he’s had to do to turn it around. To make it his own. To spit on what his father wanted it to be—wanted him to be. I’m proud, okay. He’s doing what he’s worked so hard for. I’m happy because he’s happy. Once I get over him, it will hurt less and I can more wholeheartedly champion him from afar. Not think of him always, or imagine our conversations in my head. Old and new ones I think we’d be having.”
Noor groans. “That’s depressing.”
I give her a shrug. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. One issue at a time. We’re going to focus on your career first, then we’ll get to your love life after.”
“If you say so.”
Mentally, I resign myself to another evening of applications. There’s one company that is quite hopeful because Uncle knows the hiring manager. It might be the one. Finally.
FORTY
I invitemy friends over for papri chaat, traditional fast food that combines crispy wafers with chickpeas, potato chunks, diced onion, yogurt, and tamarind chutney.
All of us, Uncle included, eat the special treat in the living room.
“I have news,” I say, scraping my spoon through the bottom of my dish.
Kiren and Noor put their bowls down at the same time. “Wehave news.”
“Say it at the same time,” suggests Uncle, scooping himself a second serving of chaat since it’s his favorite indulgence and my homemade version has not been made in a long time.
“I got a job!” I say, at the same time, Kiren announces, “We got you an opportunity!”
I’d been relaxing in my chair, but now I’m perched forward, knees almost touching the ground. “Opportunity?”
Noor snaps her head in my direction. “What job?”
“Data entry. What opportunity?”
Kiren and Noor look at each other, silently consulting with each other. When eye communication isn’t enough, they turn their backs and hurriedly whisper, as if coordinating an offensive.
“Ho! Don’t leave us in suspense,” chides Uncle. He’s got yogurt on his mustache. I pass him a napkin, pretending to be nonchalant about thewhole matter. There’s no point in getting worked up when I have a reasonable opportunity already secured. One that—if I work long enough at it—will secure me health and dental benefits.
“You know the videos we’ve been recording?” starts Kiren.
“Yes. Seeing as I star in them through coercion, I do know these videos.”
“We sent them out,” says Noor.
“To who?”
“Everyone and anyone linked to MealKits Masala.”
“OhGod.”
“Don’t worry.” Noor reassures. “Most of their emails blocked us as spam, so it’s not quite gotten everywhere?—”
“But it got to the right person,” Kiren finishes. “Prabjot Gill.”
“Who is she?” asks Uncle.
“A top lawyer at TM Legal Services. Her cousin is actually a high school friend with one of the packaging managers at MealKits Masala. Anyway, Prabjot loved your videos and all your cooking!”
“That’s amazing.” Uncle puts down his chaat and claps his hands. “She’ll introduce Rita to her contact at MealKits Masala and then she’ll get a proper chance to interview there!”
