Resolved? Had I been standing in his office, I might have punched him in the gut, but I remained calm. His reaction shouldn’t have surprised me, given the transactional nature of his relationships with his family. I couldn’t believe I had looked up to this guy for the past four years, that I’d put him above everything else in my life.
“No. I actually need to stay here for a few more weeks. My cousin’s wedding is next week, and it doesn’t make sense for me to leave before that now that I’ve come all this way.”
Jared let out a low whistle. “Preeti, we talked about this before you left. I can’t afford to have you riding the bench indefinitely. You’re my star player. We need you at the ready.”
Through his tone, I could practically see the smirk on his face. I wished I had the appropriate sports metaphor to lob back at him. I heard the clickety-clack of his fingers on his keyboard.
“I wasn’t calling to ask your permission to stay, Jared.” I stared out the window at the crowded streets outside our subdivision. Lorries and cars crawled by, avoiding pedestrians crossing at will. “I called to tell you I’m not coming back to the firm.”
The typing stopped. “Preeti, don’t throw away what you’ve built here. I can’t imagine that’s what you want after putting in all these hours to work toward partnership.”
“That’s why I’m getting out now. I can’t keep devoting my life to something I’ll never get at the end of the day.”
“How do you know you won’t get partner? If you work hard like you have been, you’ll get there.”
I laughed to myself. His promises of partnership were empty, suddenly sounding more like threats than anything else. I had seen countless senior associates ahead of me try and fail, and those were white attorneys like Mike who were part of the “club” in a way that I could never be. I’d never recount childhood vacations in which we flew first class, or use summer as a verb, or automatically assume a dark-skinned woman in the office was a secretary before thinking she could be an attorney.
“In the firm’s hundred-plus-year history, there has not been a single Indian partner. And we have offices in Delhi and Mumbai.” Feeling my resolve solidifying, I said, “It’s a decision I should have made earlier.”
“So, you’ll be the first. Isn’t that more impressive than being the fiftieth one?”
I shook my head. He didn’t get it, and it was clear he never would. It wasn’t much of a carrot to say that somehow, against all odds, I would break a ceiling that had been in place for generations because those in power—people like him—wanted it there. I had wanted to believe I belonged at the firm so badly that I’d ignored the cold, hard facts that had been there all along. Belonging was something you were born into. It wasn’t something that could be earned. It had taken me far too long to recognize that.
I said, “Look, I appreciate the years I’ve spent developing my career with you. It’s just not the right fit for me anymore.”
“Well, suit yourself. We’ll work on getting your replacement.”
And then he was gone. In a matter of seconds, he’d gone from wanting me back to moving on to my replacement. He’d never even asked how Neel and Dipti were doing. He didn’t care. His lack of empathy and compassion made clear to me that I should never have been working for him or seen him as a mentor. That I should never have wanted to belong to that institution in the first place.
When I hung up the phone, I laughed. I had just done the thing Alex had begged me to do months ago—quit my job so I could go with him—but I had been so scared of the unstable picture ahead of us, worried that it would look more like the childhood I’d vowed never to repeat than the romantic future he envisioned. I no longer had Alex or a job, but I felt like I was finally moving in the right direction. It had just taken me a few detours to get there.
Even though the mood in the living room was heavy, my step was lighter after having stood up for myself with Jared. A huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I had taken back control of my life. It was exhilarating. And terrifying. But mostly exhilarating. And still terrifying.
Biren came up to me and handed me a cold nimbu pani. “Decided to leave your work upstairs, did you?” he asked, motioning that I no longer had my phone.
“You could say that,” I said, a small smile creeping onto my lips.
He took a sip of his drink. “You seem very coy. I might think you wrote the world’s fastest brief while you were up there.”