Tag: NaBloPoMo

Let It Go

November 24th 2013. The day I felt most proud of myself. It’s still unmatched.

let it go

That was the day I finished my first draft of my first full-length novel. I had taken on the National Novel Writing Month challenge and succeeded. We went to the beach that day, and I soaked my feet in the salty depths of the ocean, while my heart soared beyond the setting rays of gold.

I had completed the longest writing project I had undertaken. And every one else my age was shuffling about, preparing for the semester exams. Fifty thousand words in less than thirty days — I still look at it as my biggest achievement.

And like every NaNoWriMo participant, I pledged to myself not let go of my work. I promised I would edit my draft, and then edit it some more, until it’s good enough for the eyes of a professional editor. I made a plan, I sketched out how I’d work and planned to get my novel published within a year.

In the days that followed, I tried editing, but I kept dozing off on my laptop. I kept telling myself I deserve some rest. Three years later, I’m still editing my draft. But I rested way too much. Now every time I open up my draft, I stifle a yawn.

I’ve come to a bitter realisation. My novel is boring. If I can’t get through it myself, how’re others supposed to?

So I forced myself to make it more interesting. I tried reworking one sentence in one chapter at a time. But it was hard. I had put it to rest for far too long that I had changed so much from the person I was when I wrote it.

I had been in a writing job, and when I look at my draft now, I can see all the blunders I couldn’t see before. I had grown as a writer and an internal editor, and as the person I am now, I can’t revive that piece I wrote three years ago.

I am now a mature writer, I know the perils of using too many passive sentences, the rules of a semicolon, and the effect of an adverb-stuffed piece of writing. And then I see my own work, and feel dejected. I see all the mistakes I now try to avoid. And when I set out to correct them, I feel like I should rather scrap the whole thing and rewrite it. Even the plot seems too weak for a reader to get through third chapter.

So now, it lays there. Taking up most of the my storage space on Evernote. I don’t think reworking the story would do any good. Perhaps I should just let it be. As a reminder of my dedication. As a testament to my ability to show up everyday and write. It’s one of those things you don’t brag about but swell as you think of it.

So, I’m ready to let it go. I tried publishing it on my blog for National Blog Posting Month. I got a few regular readers, a handful of likes, and a couple of comments. But that’s all. Maybe it’s time to put it to sleep, and try again. I’ll try another NaNoWriMo, another story, another fifty thousand words. And maybe this time, I’ll write it proper and edit it sober.

Chapter Thirty Four: Making Plans

It was a cool Sunday afternoon and Praveena lazed back on the couch, reading. Ms Marrie had recommended the book. It was a book about living life from a different perspective. It was titled Tuesdays with Morrie, a non fiction by Mitch Albom.

Praveena had taken refuge on the couch after a heavy lunch and she felt her eyes drooping when all of a sudden, her phone rang, chasing the drowsiness away. Stifling a wide yawn, she saw that it was Anil.

“Hey!” Praveena exclaimed, delighted as she answered the call. “How are you?”

“I’m good, what about you?” Anil responded with equal delight. Praveena smiled widely. She had missed the long conversations. Hearing Anil’s voice boosted her mind.

“Hmm, I’m I’m good too” she replied. “So? To what do I owe this pleasure?” she mocked.

Anil laughed. It was a deep and spontaneous laugh. It made Praveena smile. When he spoke, she could feel the joy in his voice, “nothing, just felt like talking to you.”

“So, what up with Bangalore?” Praveena sat up on the couch and placed her book on the table next to her. She didn’t feel sleepy anymore. “how’s MBA?” she asked.

“It’s alright. When has studying ever been fun?” he added with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Praveena suddenly remembering her college life.

“So,” Anil said, “what are you up to? What’s your plan?”

That’s when Praveena realized she had done nothing since she had got back. She had been too busy becoming aware of the things around her. She told him that, along with the previous day’s events. She told him about her understanding and her conversations with Ms Marrie.

It was easier to talk to Anil now. The invisible barrier between herself and the others had somehow evaporated.

Anil didn’t say much. He listened to Praveena with evident delight and Praveena enjoyed having his rapt attention.

“Now,” she paused, “you tell me, how’s life in Bangalore?”

Anil related the story of his life. “Well, MBA’s draining most of life,” he laughed hollowly. “but it took me a while to realize that it wasn’t giving me much joy,” he paused for a breath. “so after some advice from my teacher, I joined as a volunteer in a non-profit organization.”

“Huh?” Praveena responded surprised.

Anil laughed. “You surprised?” he asked joyously.

“Ya-huh,” Praveena replied defensively. “So, tell me about this organization of yours.”

“It’s a non-profit organization; an alcoholic anonymous institution. Their primary mission is to help people recover from their drug addiction.”

“Oh…” trailed Praveena. She hadn’t expected that. She couldn’t speak for a while. Niveda’s thoughts overwhelmed her. There was an uneasy silence that widened, until Anil broke it.

“Hey, you there?” he asked knowingly.

“Yeah,” Praveena managed, “sorry, I – ”

“I know,” he said simply.

They spoke for another half hour in which Anil explained all the activities that happened in the meetings of the organization. They were mainly counseling sessions, Praveena learned. On some days they had priests, psychologists and doctors advise participants about the dangers of the habit. Some other days, they would call over “people like myself; survivors” said Anil. “Even people who have lost loved ones to drugs would come over and have a chat.” The main purpose of doing stuff like these, according to Anil, was to help addicts realize how much they matter to their families and to educate them about the physical and mental damage that drugs did to them.

Anil also told Praveena how he spoke about Niveda and that a lot of addicts had spoken to him afterward saying that they wanted his support. Anil said it almost ecstatically.

“That’s really good Anil,” Praveena said earnestly. “At least you’re doing something to change someone’s life.” she nodded to herself. If only Niveda could have gotten something like that, she thought bitterly.

“For the better,” Anil added.

“Ya. That’s right,” Praveena agreed.

Another short silence.

“Hey,” Praveena exclaimed.

“Hmm?”

“An organization! I want to be a part of something like that too. You think I can volunteer?” she asked, excited. She liked the idea of helping someone get rid of the terrible addiction.

“Hmm…” Anil hesitated, “I don’t know, Praveena” he sighed. “Why don’t you try volunteering for some other local institution there?”

That sounded sane to Praveena. She agreed, but she was more interested to do this a as team. She wanted to work alongside Anil.

“Why don’t we start on organization ourselves?” she almost jumped with excitement.

“Huh?” Anil was taken aback. He hadn’t expected Praveena to think like this.

“What do you say?” Praveena pressed him, “you, me, and a few others. I can gather people. What, you’re in?”

“Hey, wait.” Anil replied quite reluctantly, “this isn’t simple, you know that?”

“Yeah, of course.” Praveena said in haste, “but I’m sure we can pull it off.” She was keen to do something.

Anil thought. “hmm, maybe – ” Praveena waited with bated breath. She didn’t understand why she was so interested to get this running, but she had an impulse that it would be a great idea. It was bound to improve a lot of lives. It suddenly struck her; this is what she wanted to do. There was something inside her that pushed her to do this.

“Alright, Praveena. If you’re so sure – then do it. I’ll do everything I can to stay with you.” He said the last part a little extra cheerfully.

“Wonderful!” Praveena exclaimed. She had almost forgot Kamal was asleep in the next room. “Let’s do this!” she vowed, and heard a laughter of agreement from Anil.

Praveena felt sleepy no more. She brimmed with energy — energy that came from the thought of building their own support group. The helplessness she had felt during Niveda’s recovery acted like a stimulant within her, driving her and providing her with all the enthusiasm she needed.

That night, Praveena made plans. She didn’t want to discuss her ideas with her father until she had it all mapped out. She sat cross legged on her bed and thought about it. It seemed like a good idea, except for the problems that it involved. While speaking with Anil, she had thought only of the effect a help group would have. Now though, when she considered the smaller aspects of starting a group, she began to have questions. Her inner voices conflicted.

‘Where would she set it up?’ – ‘Home.’

‘Home? Really?’ — ‘ Ok, the garage then.’

‘Who would be the initial members?’ – ‘Anil and Ms Marrie.’ Yes, she thought, Ms Marrie would agree for sure. She was interested in these kinds of things. That was settled then.

Next, ‘where would you get the money?’ – ‘ personal savings’. Praveena doubted that. But at least, she thought, her savings would be enough for initial investment.

‘How would they spread the word?’ – ‘Internet – duh!’

‘What do we do in the organization?’ – ‘conduct meetings and discussions,’ like Anil had said, she nodded to herself.

‘Just meetings would be boring’ – ‘we’ll come up with something else later.’

‘Is this a good idea at all?’ – ‘I think I’m sleepy.’

Praveena lay back, she’d deal with her doubts later; now, she needed the rest.

Chapter Thirty Two: Explanations

Praveena thought back to the conversation she had had with Ms Marrie. She wondered how their first conversation in school had been an eyeopener; Ms Marrie had said, “You’re not the only one with problems,” and Praveena had realized the truth in those words the first time she had understood Niveda’s problems. Now it was Ms Marrie. Everyone has problems, but not two people show it the same way as the other. She smiled to herself.

She understood at last. She felt she had changed a lot. Her attitude towards people had changed drastically; she was now wiser to other people’s dilemmas.

Praveena thought back to the day her mother had died. She thought of how she had felt, and realized she had been trying to blame her mother’s death on something or someone, just like Ms Marrie had had. She had been searching for a reason, any reason, to blame her mother’s cancer on. Perhaps it was her age, she thought, and her immature mind that had barred her from accepting it sooner. Once again, her exchange with Ms Marrie had changed her perceptions.

And she grew greedy for more.

Praveena took a sip of her orange juice. She was at the Green Leaf restaurant again. Following their meeting a couple of days ago, Praveena had wanted to meet Ms Marrie again. She had called Ms Marrie and they had agreed on another lunch. Ms Marrie too had been eager. What began as a way of clearing Praveena’s cluttered mind in school, was growing into a relationship that neither of them could name.

Praveena looked around the restaurant. It was a wet afternoon and as a way of complimenting the weather, the blinds were raised, letting nature’s dull light wade inside the restaurant in pride. Even though the dim light illuminated the inside of the restaurant, there was an unlit candle and a matchbox on each of the small round tables. Praveena admired the white candles on the scarlet tablecloths as Ms Marrie walked up to her.

Praveena smiled at her. Ms Marrie looked beautiful as ever. She wore a light brown cotton sari, a colour that matched Praveena’s tee shirt. Ms Marrie’s eyes looked content again, and joy radiated in her broad smile. She took her seat and they placed their orders.

“How’s your father, Praveena?” Ms Marrie asked as she ate.

“He’s fine, Miss.” Praveena answered, licking her fingers and trying to look decent at the same time. “He’s so busy with work nowadays.”

“Hmm…” Ms Marrie acknowledged as she continued to eat. “So,” she swallowed, “has he spoken of marriage yet?” she asked casually. As if she had known all along.

Praveena choked on her mouthful of rice. Ms Marrie offered her some water and she took it. Eyes watering, she asked, “How did you know?” She didn’t hide her surprise.

“Happens to a lot of girls, and most of them agree,” It was perhaps the first time Praveena had noticed a hint of disapproval in Ms Marrie’s voice. She held on to it. “It didn’t happen to you, though. Did it?” she asked, enviously.

“Oh, yes it did,” Ms Marrie almost laughed thinking about it.

“How did you handle it?” Praveena was now full of devotion for Ms Marrie.

Ms Marrie shrugged, “I told my parents that I would marry when I wanted to.” she said simply.

“And they were ok with that?” Praveena asked, disbelieving. It seemed like her father wasn’t the only super dad.

Ms Marrie nodded, “As long as you’re sure, your parents would never try to change your mind. They’d start believing in you.”

Praveena nodded. She understood why Kamal hadn’t objected; he believed in her.

Praveena told Ms Marrie everything about the marriage proposal, from her aunt to the phone conversation. She also told her about Kamal’s reaction to her request.

Ms Marrie listened without interrupting.

Once Praveena had finished her narrative, “So, you need some time,” Ms Marrie observed. “Do you say that on someone’s influence?” She paused, “Are you interested in someone?”

Praveena thought. Why didn’t she want to get married? “No,” she said after a while. Ms Marrie raised her eyebrows in a questioning look. “I want to figure out what I want to do with my life, before I commit to marriage.”

“Ok,” Ms Marrie said simply, “you’re fine.” She shrugged smiling.

Praveena smiled in return, a little doubtful.

They left the restaurant together. Praveena volunteered to accompany Ms Marrie to the bus stop. It was a busy Saturday afternoon and the streets were full of heavy vehicles. People traveled long to enjoy the weekend with their family. There weren’t too many pedestrians though. Praveena and Ms Marrie crossed the street cautiously and waited for the bus to arrive.

Praveena suddenly noticed a group of people huddling together some forty feet away. She pointed it out to Ms Marrie and the two of them approached the crowd.

When they reached the crowd, they saw a biker, injured badly and struggling to breathe. Praveena stood stunned. She didn’t know how to react. The man on the ground was writhing in pain. He was surrounded by a pool of warm blood and she could see the gash in his head. His bike was a few feet away from him, the hand bar lopsided and bent in an awkward angle.

Praveena stood horrified, looking at the man who now seemed to have lost his consciousness. She turned around and realized Ms Marrie was missing. Before she could react however, Ms Marrie appeared with a bottle of soda. As Praveena, along with the onlookers, watched in silence, Ms Marrie went over to the injured man, lifted his head on to her left hand and poured some of the liquid into the man’s mouth.

A minute or two later, the ambulance arrived. No one knew who had called the emergency ambulance service. They took the man in a stretcher and asked Ms Marrie to accompany them. Without a second thought, Ms Marrie went with them, pulling Praveena along.

Chapter Thirty One: Yet Another Reunion

Praveena replayed her conversation with aunt Kameela before realising the one thing that bothered her more than any other: Aunt Kameela had said college was to prepare her for marriage. Had the other students known this earlier?

So had they spent three years in college just to gain the mental maturity that they would need to raise a family in future? It distressed her. Now it explained the goofing-around that most students had done all the time.

“But that’s how things are,” she could imagine aunt Kameela’s argument. Now that she thought of it, she remembered her female lecturers mentioning something like that. They had said college was the most important part of their lives because that’s when they could enjoy their lives as they wished. ‘But,’ her inner voice interrupted, ‘remember what James said? He said, “Enjoy life, guys. After three years here, you deserve it!” See? Joy isn’t limited to college — or anything else.’

Praveena took a deep breath. ‘Alright,’ she thought. She needed a break from this confusion. She decided to put the matter to rest. Meanwhile, she knew what she needed: a talk with Ms Marrie.

Praveena dialed Ms Marrie’s number. After years of not being able to reach her, this time, Praveena heard Ms Marrie’s voice on the other side.

“Hello?” Ms Marrie said in exasperation. ‘She must have had a tough day at school,’ Praveena thought before answering.

“Hi, Ms Marrie. It’s Praveena.” She realized Ms Marrie wouldn’t have recognised her new number. When she replied after a little hesitation, Ms Marrie was surprised. “Praveena!” she exclaimed, sounding quite unhappy. “What’s up?” Praveena detected no enthusiasm.

She was taken aback. She had thought Ms Marrie would be happy she had called. What had she done to offend Ms Marrie? She wanted to find out.

“Er — Miss, can I meet you?”

There was a pause. Praveena realized Ms Marrie was debating with herself, ‘why though?’, she wondered.

At last, she responded. “Alright,” Ms Marrie said heaving a sigh. “Lunch today?”

Smiling wide, “Sure, Miss” Praveena responded, the excitement showing in her voice.

“Okay then. How about Green Leaf restaurant, at one?”

Praveena agreed and Ms Marrie disconnected the call.

She arrived at the Green Leaf restaurant at 12.45. It was a bright Thursday afternoon and the hotel had the blinds drawn to create a dull and quiet ambiance. Praveena liked the surrounding. It was appetising and welcoming. She sipped on her second glass of orange juice when Ms Marrie walked over and took a seat facing her.

There was such a difference in Ms Marrie. As a student, Praveena had admired Ms Marries quick and noiseless strides. It was still noiseless, but Ms Marrie walked much slower now. Her long dark hair was now short and Praveena saw streaks of grey. Her eyes too were sunken, and appeared sad. She had combed her hair carelessly and wore a modest floral white sari that complimented her dark complexion. ‘She’s pretty,’ Praveena thought, ‘except her eyes,’ her inner voice added.

Ms Marrie broke into her thoughts, “Hello, Praveena.” It was a plain and blunt greeting. There was no emotion or a welcoming tone in her greeting, and that bothered Praveena.

“Hello, Miss. How are you?” Praveena didn’t let her thoughts hinder her compassion for Ms Marrie.

“I’m good, and you?” Praveena grew irritated. Ms Marrie smiled, but Praveena only saw formality in the smile; the concern she was used to had gone. ‘Something is wrong,’ she realized. ‘This is so unlike Ms Marrie,’ her inner voice helped.

“Is something wrong, Miss? You sound so stiff and uncomfortable,” she leant forward, her voice soft. “Much like the way I was after my mother died.” she observed as an after thought.

Ms Marrie said nothing. But Praveena watched, distressed, as Ms Marrie’s eyes swelled with tears. She blinked them away.

Praveena raised her eyes at Marrie, “What happened Miss?”

Ms Marrie shook her head in reply and smiled, a warmer smile than before, “I’m glad you thought of talking to me.”

Praveena could see Ms Marrie was hiding something, but she decided not to bring it up. Instead, she said, “I tried calling you many times over the past three years, but I couldn’t reach you.”

“Oh,” Ms Marrie exclaimed, apologetic, “my phone’s been giving me a lot of trouble lately.” She smiled again. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

“Oh, nothing important,” Praveena lied just as easily as Ms Marrie. “So,” she asked “shall we order?”

They ordered their meals and while they waited, “How’s your husband, Miss?” Praveena asked instinctively.

Ms Marrie gave her a long hard look before saying flatly, “he’s dead.”

Praveena shock showed all over her face; her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a fit of silent disbelief. How could such a thing happen to her beloved Ms Marrie? “When?” she could hardly get the words out of her dry mouth. Her voice came out as a whisper. Though she had never met Ms Marrie’s husband, she was knew it was a love marriage.

“It’s been three years,” Ms Marrie smiled through the tears peeking through her eye lids. “He met with an accident — the day before the marriage.” Praveena hadn’t asked for the details, but Ms Marrie told her anyway. Praveena knew it would have been difficult for Marrie to speak of the matter. She swallowed the pity she felt for Ms Marrie. She knew her teacher hated it when others pitied her, and Praveena didn’t want to hurt her further. She remained silent.

Their lunch arrived, but Praveena didn’t feel like eating anymore. Ms Marrie however, started eating and gestured Praveena to do the same. As Praveena tried to munch on her meal, ignoring the lump in her throat, Ms Marrie spoke.

“You know,” Praveena looked up at her, “I was cut off from people after Kevin – he was my fiancé – died. I shut my emotions and became cold towards others. I wanted somebody to blame, and I couldn’t tolerate it when I couldn’t do that. That’s why I didn’t attend your calls.” She smiled at Praveena’s look of disappointment. “But, when you reminded me I was being like you used to be, I realize that it’s time for me to leave the past behind.” She smiled broadly now. The tears were gone.

“Thanks a lot, Praveena.”

Chapter Thirty: Relative Trouble

Praveena enjoyed her leisure time. She didn’t do much the first couple of days; she ate well and gave herself a lot of rest. ‘You deserve it,’ her inner voice convinced her it wasn’t laziness.

A week later, Kamal mentioned Aunt Kameela. “Hey, I forgot to tell you,” he began with an enthusiastic greeting. “Kameela called yesterday,” he lowered his pitch a notch at Praveena’s look. She didn’t care about aunt Kameela, and it showed well on her face. He continued, “She asked me what you decided.” He hesitated. “And…” He haltered, worried about Praveena’s reaction. “She said she’d speak to you,” he looked up at her, wondering.

Praveena said nothing however. Kamal knew she was irritated. But he had wanted to convey the news; he didn’t like the idea of Kameela catching Praveena unprepared.

Praveena’s remained impassive. But fumed within. Glad that her father had warned her beforehand, she smiled musing on the prospect of giving aunt Kameela a piece of her mind. This should be interesting, she thought.

“You’re smiling,” Kamal observed.

“Yeah,” Praveena said defensively. “If she wants to ask me why I don’t want to marry her son, I’ll tell her why,” she said tauntingly.

Kamal looked a bit worried now, “Well,” he shrugged, “you know what to do, just remember, she is your mother’s sister” he said. “In a way,” he added in haste, catching Praveena’s disbelieving look.

“No worries, Pa. I’ll take care.” she smiled mischievously.

That evening, aunt Kameela called Praveena.

“Hello, Praveena!” aunt Kameela sang in her sugary voice. Praveena could imagine her wide smile on the other side, displayed all of her vain betel stained teeth. She was thankful aunt Kameela hadn’t decided to come over in person. It had been difficult enough the last time, a second encounter could have ended disastrous, Praveena thought.

“Hi, aunt Kameela, how are you? How’s everyone at home?” Praveena planned to stick to the conventional basics. She did not need a lecture on that.

“Oh, everything here’s alright of course,” aunt Kameela replied lighthearted. Praveena couldn’t help but notice the extra emphasis on the word ‘here.’ It was easy to discern the route of the conversation. She decided to wait for it however. If Kameela was going to confront her, Praveena didn’t want to help her by opening the matter herself.

“Oh, that’s good.” Praveena tried hard to bring a smile in her voice. She wondered if it conveyed when aunt Kameela replied.

“But things are not so ok over there, is it?” Praveena hated the way Kameela spoke. She used the same annoying tone she had had at her mother’s funeral; the tone of talking to an over emotional preschooler.

“There’s nothing like that,” Praveena shrugged, more out of habit before realizing aunt Kameela couldn’t see her.

“Your father told me everything, Praveena” she said slowly as if to emphasize that her knowledge wasn’t useless.

“What did he say?” Praveena was now getting curious. How much of their conversation would have Pa told her? She was still lost when Kameela’s strong voice bombarded her thoughts.

“Why don’t you like to marry Prem?”

‘Finally!’ thought Praveena.

“It’s not that I don’t like Prem,” she tried to make it sound right. “It’s just that I’m not ready for marriage. I need some time.”

“But, why?” There was hones curiosity in Aunt Jameela’s voice.

“I need to mentally prepare myself” Praveena remained patient. She needed to get the thoughts out of her head. She was glad she got an opportunity to express herself.

“That’s what college was for,” Praveena imagined Kameela’s earnest and confused face. But after listening to what Kameela just said, Praveena was a little surprised. She had been wondering the purpose of her formal education. ‘Was that supposed to mentally prepare you for marriage?’ her inner voice probed her, disgusted. ‘So, it wasn’t for the knowledge?’ She was crestfallen.

“Praveena? You there?” aunt Kameela yelled from the other side.

“Yes, yes. I’m listening” Praveena realized she had been silent for a while and spoke in hurry.

“I was saying, that after college –- or maybe a couple years after work — girls settle down and raise a family.” She took a deep breath. “And since you’re not planning on working, I thought — “ she left the thought hanging.

Praveena remained silent, reflecting on aunt Kameela’s statement. How easily she had said it! Praveena couldn’t accept it. Aunt Kameela’s voice interrupted her thoughts again.

“Alright, Praveena. You think about it. Bye,” Aunt Kameela disconnected the line even before Praveena could react.

Praveena wondered if her long periods of silence had offended aunt Kameela. ‘So what if it had?’ her inner voice reasoned. And Praveena agreed.

“After college — or maybe after a couple years of work — girls settle down and raise their families.”

Aunt Kameela’s words haunted Praveena. She still couldn’t accept it. Her mind raced. Why had it become such a common notion? She had seen women who worked. But, she thought. Almost all of the working women she had known had already been married, even Ms Marrie — wait — ‘what could have happened to Ms Marrie?’

She was curious. She wanted to know if Ms Marrie had been married. ‘Of course she would’ve married’ her inner voice said, exasperated.

‘But, why didn’t she invite you?’ it was now the second voice.

While her two inner voices imposed contradictory theories, Praveena tried focusing on the bigger matter: Why did girls marry after a certain stage and start living for another person altogether? It sounded as if a girl’s final destination was marriage, as if they don’t have the freedom to choose a life after that.

Praveena wondered whether it was right to limit a girl’s potential after marriage. She knew a lot of women who had chosen their own careers, even after marriage. They didn’t think marriage was the stop point. For them, marriage meant companionship and fellowship, and a family was moral support.

Marriage is just a part of a woman’s life and not the end of it, she concluded as she sat cross-legged on her bed.

Aunt Kameela and her son Prem would disagree, she thought. They were an orthodox family who expected people to behave just like them. Living there would be a pain, for them and her. ‘That family is certainly not for you.’ she decided.