Chapters (40)
- Cover
- Also by Saumya Dave
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Acknowledgments
- Readers Guide
- Discussion Questions
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Is this Natasha Joshi?” a man’s bored, low-pitched voice says back. He pronounces “Joshi” wrong, like most people, so it sounds like “Josh-eye” instead of “Joe-she.”
“It is. May I know who’s calling?”
“This is Ben. I’m calling from Midtown Comedy Center.”
Natasha grips the bottom of the champagne glass. Her heartbeat quickens. This is it. The moment she’s been waiting for is finally here. She pictures the looks on the girls’ faces. And Zack’s and Suhani’s. And Mom! What will she say?
“Hi!” Natasha lowers her voice. “I mean, hel-lo. How are you?”
“So, you did not make it to the next round for our comedy competition,” Ben says with the monotony of someone who works at the DMV.
Natasha checks the volume on her phone. “Excuse me? I think I didn’t hear you. Can you repeat that?”
Ben sighs. “The judges did not select you to move on in our competition.”
“Did not?” Natasha ignores the sense of dread that’s pressing on her chest as she processes his words. Ben must be mistaken.
But he says, “Correct. You did not. Now, if you’d li—”
“Wait. I don’t understand. I thought I did a good job. No, a great one. I mean, people were cracking up! A bachelorette invited me to do shots with her friends because of how much they loved my routine! If that’s not the sign of a success, then what is?”
“The comedians this time were some of the best we have ever had . . .” Ben drones on as if he’s reading his words from a script. A shitty script.
Natasha hangs up before she can hear any more.
Should she call one of her friends? They share everything with one another and she already knows how each one will respond. But then again, why be a burden? Someone they have to be worried about. She’s already enough of one for her family.
This is what she gets after putting herself out there and pushing past her comfort zone. After everything she’s been through, she’s back at square one.
She returns to the living room. Her notebook is still open to the last page.
Self-compassion, my ass, she thinks. Self-compassion is for people who actually deserve good things.
She removes the champagne bottle from the fridge and places it against her lips. Without giving herself time to think, she throws her head back and chugs so quickly that she doesn’t even taste the drink anymore. She should stop and take a break. But something pushes her to keep taking it all in, until there’s nothing left.