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Four Times Mindy's Been Right and One Time She's (Kind Of, Maybe) Wrong

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"Donuts are the next cupcakes," Mindy announces, loudly, in the St. Elizabeth's break room.

The other residents ignore her. Well, except Naomi. Which is why they're friends anyway. That and a mutual love of celebrity gossip. Naomi nods sagely and turns the page of the US Weekly she's paging through. They're all wired on too much caffeine and not enough sleep. Mindy's had three caramel macchiatos today, extra whip and extra caramel drizzle -- whatever, she's going to start a new diet next week, and this is her latest indulgence before she goes down to a size 4.

And, you know, she's going for a run later today, so she's going to work those calories off.

Maybe tomorrow. She's really tired today.

Maybe Friday. She's got a lot of things tomorrow, and then Thursday isn't good because -- never mind.

Erik, the hot Scandinavian resident Mindy had a crush on for about three seconds, rolls his eyes at her and sits up in his chair. "Mindy," he says in his hot hot Scandinavian accent, "you should really try paying attention to current events, instead of focusing on popular food trends."

Mindy definitely regrets those three seconds, but he's so hot when he doesn't talk. Naomi makes a face over her magazine and doesn't say anything.

"I'm right," Mindy says to Erik, a little stung. She's way up to date on her current events. This is actually just sexism, and she's going to bring that up the next time she's with Dr. Feldman. Yeah, it's really good she didn't hook up with Erik, because he's a huge sexist douchebag.

"Who cares?" Erik says, and opens up his New York Times. Because he's that guy. Then: "You're wrong anyway. The next big thing is going to be croissants."

Which is something Mindy remembers word-for-word when gourmet donut shops start popping up all over the place. Vindication, she thinks, and types in Erik's name into her Facebook search bar. So what if he's gotten hotter and lives in London with his beautiful wife and three incredibly blond children? Mindy stares his profile picture. He really has gotten a lot hotter. Wow, that's -- she didn't think that was possible. And his wife -- is she a model? Mindy links an article about the growing donut trend to his Facebook wall. Without comment. Because she's above that.

I don't understand why you've sent me this article? But it's nice to hear from you, Mindy! Erik comments beneath the link a few hours later.

Whatever. She's still right.




Gwen starts dating Troy five weeks into junior year, and it's a disaster right from the start. First of all, he doesn't even remember Mindy, even though they took orgo together. Not even for a semester -- the entire year of organic chemistry. Okay, it was a big class, but their lab section had about 20 people, and Mindy specifically remembers him asking if she had a pencil once. So the fact that he doesn't recall her at all is just flat-out insulting.

"Come on, Min," is all Gwen says when Mindy tells her this, "I really like him."

Which is obviously code for shut-the-hell-up-Mindy-and-let-me-date-him. Mindy rolls her eyes and curls up in her bed with her cell biology textbook and a package of Twizzlers. She flips to a clean page in her notebook and tries to focus on the reading. Instead she finds herself writing "Tory is HORRIBLE" in the corner and the date underneath. Just so she'll remember. She bites off the head of a Twizzler violently.

Troy dumps Gwen in the middle of finals, right after Gwen brought him dinner in the library where he's been studying. According to Gwen, he turned around his carrel and put his hands over hers and said, "Listen, Gwen, this has been great, but… I think we should see other people and not get so serious so young. What are we doing anyway? We should be having fun."

Mindy holds a sobbing, wrecked Gwen in Gwen's bed later, trying not to run out of the dorm to murder Troy with a protractor. Instead she pours them both mugs of red wine and pops in a video of You've Got Mail and they sit cross-legged in front of the TV binge-eating potato chips and drinking. Gwen goes through most of a box of tissues, agreeing through her tears that Troy is a terrible person who deserves to die in a hilarious-but-disgusting accident.

And, because she's like the greatest friend ever, Mindy never once says that she was right. Even though she has the proof and everything.

(She does say it. But, like, years later, and Gwen only gets a little bit annoyed.)




She's buying acne cream online when she realizes that Shulman & Associates doesn't have a blog. Which is ridiculous. How does the practice not have a blog? It's, like, the modern internet age! They should be all over this by now. Mindy can't believe she didn't catch this phenomenal oversight before. It's probably because she's been too busy bringing life into the world -- caring for the needs of expectant mothers takes compassion and time, and Mindy's been so generous. But now she's going to remedy this problem, because, seriously, where are they? Afghanistan?

The Shulman & Associates Afghan equivalent probably does have a blog, that's all she's saying.

"We need a blog!" Mindy announces as she flings open her office door, maybe a little bit theatrically (but that's only because she could've had a career in acting if she really wanted to -- which she doesn't).

Three women in the waiting area look at her with blank expressions, magazines in their laps. That was not what Mindy intended. She turns toward Betsy and Beverly at reception. "We need a blog," she repeats, lowering her voice just a smidgen.

Betsy nods earnestly, staring back with huge Bambi eyes. She makes a note on a Post-It. "That's a really good idea, Dr. Lahiri. You know, I've always wondered why we don't have one. They have one upstairs."

Mindy clutches the edge of the reception desk, nearly upsetting a potted plant. "What?" she hisses. "The midwives have a blog??"

"It was featured in Parenting Today." Betsy holds up the most recent copy, opens it to the right page. It's just a little blurb at the bottom, but it's the unmistakable name of the Deslaurier brothers. They've spelled it right and everything. That's infuriating.

Midwives. More like mid-douches, right? Mindy cannot believe they've gotten themselves into Parenting Today. She's always fantasized about getting a cover with them -- Dr. Mindy Lahiri, the best OB-GYN in Manhattan! And there's this whole interview with her where she's witty and stylish and the interviewer fawns over how amazing her apartment is and her perfect husband (works in finance Danny -- super rich now -- but makes pancakes on the weekends for her and the kids) and their house in the Hamptons --

"Who's in Parenting Today?" Danny asks, putting a stack of patient files by Betsy's computer.

"The midwives," Mindy snarls. "Which, by the way, is a totally misleading word. They're not wives! They're not even married."

Danny grabs the magazine from Betsy's hold, a dark look clouding his features. He scowls. It's actually super hot when he does that, and Mindy makes a mental note to tell him later. "Those bastards," he breathes. He slaps the magazine back down. "We need a blog."

"I already said that," Mindy says, annoyed that he's trying to steal credit.

"Oh. Yeah. You're right," Danny acknowledges, and Mindy feels the warm glow of satisfaction.




"Remember that time you were going to drop out of college and become a rapper?" Mindy says cheerfully to Rishi over his celebratory graduation sushi.

He makes a face at her and takes the last piece of tuna. "So what?"

"So -- now that you've graduated valedictorian of Stanford, do you have something to say to me?"

Rishi rolls his eyes. He sets down his chopsticks against his dish. "You want me to tell you that you were right all along, Mindy?"

"Yeah, I do," she says. "Now that you're about to start your doctorate program at Columbia, I do want you to say something to me. I want you to say that I was right all along."

"Come on, Mindy, can't you be the bigger person here?"

Mindy waves at the table before her. "Um, hi, I took you out to an expensive sushi dinner to celebrate you graduating, and that was after we went out to that Burmese place in San Francisco. I'm being a really big person. A person paying for all this food."

"Okay, okay." Rishi takes a sip of water to clear his throat. "You were right, Mindy. I'm glad you wouldn't let me drop out of college to become a rapper -- "

"Good!" Mindy says, clicking her chopsticks triumphantly.

"-- because now I have a bachelor's and if I drop out of my PhD program to become a rapper, I'll still be able to find a day job," Rishi finishes, grinning.

The sushi doesn't taste quite as good after that.




"Did you ever think Carl was going to break up with you?" Mindy asks, staring hard at Gwen's face on her phone. Her palms are damp. She's sweating.

She can see Gwen wrestling Riley into a coat as she tries to hold her phone steady. "Um, what? Why? You think Danny's going to break up with you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Yeah," Mindy confesses. "He's been really distant and weird the last couple of weeks. Oh my god, Gwen. Do you think he's having an affair?"

Gwen sighs. "There's no way he's having an affair."

"You don't know that."

"When would he have time for that, between working with you and living with you?"

It's a valid point. Mindy feels a little wave of relief. "Okay, but," she worries her bottom lip, "he could still be planning on breaking up with me."

Gwen frowns. "Don't jump to conclusions, Min," she warns, which is definitely best friend code for yes-your-boyfriend-is-going-dump-you.

"I have to go," Mindy says quickly. "Thanks."




She's not sure what to-be-dumped people do, especially not to-be-dumped people who are going to be broken up with by their boyfriend of three plus years. Mindy leaves in a rush after work for the D'Agostino near their apartment and leaves with five different pints of ice cream (one sorbet -- just in case), six bottles of red wine, and a whole armful of candy. It's actually kind of hard to get it upstairs -- thank god someone was coming out of the elevator at the same time she maneuvers her way into the building.

Mindy's ready for this. She puts the groceries away, stashes the candy where Danny won't find it (not that it'll matter soon anyway), and tells herself not to cry before it happens. Still -- she's sniffling on the couch, rewatching season 4 of Grey's Anatomy when Danny gets in after his shift at the hospital.

"Mindy?" he says, switching on the living room light. "What the -- are you okay?"

"Go away!" she says, gesturing with her empty wine glass.

"Whoa, whoa, Mindy." Danny approaches her on the couch with his hands up in front of him, like she's holding a gun out or something. Which would be cool, because she has also thought about a career in law enforcement, and lady cops are really hot -- that's not the point. "What's going on?"

She squares her shoulders. "Fine," she says, her voice only a little bit watery. "Just go ahead and do it. Break up with me. I know you're going to."

Danny laughs, a little softly. Oh my god, he's the worst. He sits down next to her on the couch. "Why would I break up with you?"

"Um, because you've found someone way hotter with a better BMI that you're leaving me for? How should I know? You're the one breaking up with me!"

He reaches over for her hands, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. He's smiling. Why is he smiling? "Mindy, I'm not breaking up with you."



Mindy wipes at her tearstained face. "But. You've been weird. Why have you been acting like a serial killer? Did you kill someone, Danny? Were you hiding the body? I love you, but I think I'd have to tell the police -- "

Danny reaches into his pocket and takes out a little ring box, and Mindy's brain doesn't quite process what she's seeing until he opens it and there it is -- a ring -- and her mascara's running down her cheeks and she's opening and closing her mouth like a startled fish and -- "Mindy," Danny is saying, "I love you. Look, I'm not good at this stuff, you know? I-I wanted it to be perfect. For you. I was going to do it on Sunday, when you and Gwen got back from shopping. I was gonna do this whole thing on the roof -- with like lights and stuff. I was gonna have Morgan come over and set it up, but I figured he couldn't keep his mouth shut for too long, so I haven't even asked him yet. Anyway."

"Oh my god," Mindy breathes, a little squeakily.

"So. Will you marry me, Mindy?" Danny asks, his face hopeful and scared and beautiful.

And even though this isn't how she's always pictured getting engaged to Danny (Central Park -- him down on one knee, a band playing in the background, flowers everywhere), Mindy thinks that this is pretty okay too. She reaches over and touches his cheek and he's crying a little bit too and she leans over to kiss him, him still clutching the ring, and thinks yeah, this is just fine.

"That's a yes?" Danny murmurs, his mouth against hers.

She nods and then pulls back to punch him in the arm. "That's for making me think you were going to break up with me, you jerk!"

"Ow!" Danny yelps, dropping the ring, and they have to spend ten minutes searching for it beneath the coffee table.

Kind of worth it to be wrong that time though. Mindy has to say -- she wouldn't mind being wrong a few more times if that's going to be the end result.

She'd still rather be right though. Duh.