The Rearranged Life (11 page)

“When your family sacrifices for you and works like hell to make sure you succeed, they deserve the best from you, you know?”

I nod. “We were raised 7,000 miles from our parents’ families so we could have a better life. That’s the biggest motivator for me,” I confess.

“I can’t even imagine being so far away. It must have been hard.”

“I think it was. They never mention it, but I can remember a little bit growing up. They’d look forward to letters and the occasional phone call every few months.” I fill James in on the memories and the heart-stopping terror of an unscheduled call from India, which could only mean there was an emergency that we wouldn’t be able to get back for.

Now, eighteen years later, I find the thought of living across the world from my parents for years at a time completely unimaginable. My parents claim they did it because it was necessary, but I can’t fathom such distance. Nowadays, however, things are different. If I went far away, I would take a cell phone or figure out with my parents when to Skype. The experience has completely changed from when they first moved to this country, but I still carry a sense of guilt that my parents had to suffer to raise us. And a feeling of awe at their unfailing faith in the universe that it would all work out.

“Do you want another drink?” James asks.

I check my phone, and it is almost ten. The staff packs away the baked goods in the display case, the start of their closing routine. A barista walks by with huge trash bags. A quick glance around the room confirms it: with the exception of a girl in the corner, who looks so engrossed in her book that the world could end and she wouldn’t notice, we are the only customers left.

“I’m pretty sure they’re going to kick us out in a few minutes, actually.”

James scans the café and sighs. “Well, in that case, let me walk you home.”

We dodge the chairs being upturned onto tables, and avoid a collision with a Starbucks worker precariously balancing a condiments tray. As I nearly bump into a table trying to sidestep her, James steers me in the right direction with a hand on the small of my back. My breath catches in my throat at the contact. When he moves his hand away, my lower back tingles.

On nights like this, downtown State College is full of students and laughter. But James and I are in our own bubble of quiet; observing the lights, the people, the buzz.

“I can’t believe we hung out for three hours.” James smiles.

“I know. It flew by!”

“I kind of wish it didn’t,” James says so quietly, I’m not sure if I imagined it.

I agree, whether he said it or not. The last three hours have been the happiest I’ve been in a long time. I hadn’t even realized I was feeling remotely melancholy. Being around James opens up the realm of possibility beyond books, school, my family obligations, and Sophia. Suddenly, I can see this kind of happiness on a regular basis. I can make decisions without any hesitation or fear, and the sudden independence is oh-so-liberating.

“How did you two meet?” I ask, just to say something. “You and Luca?”

“We lived on the same floor freshman year in Tener Hall.” He vaguely gestures in, presumably, the dorm’s direction. “Luca was a little bit of a party animal.”

“No way. Did you guys get in trouble a lot?” I imagine they did. James’ constant grin and Luca’s mischievous personality can mask a lot of stories.

“We avoided it pretty well.” He smirks. “Actually, I didn’t drink until I was about twenty. I was too scared of getting in trouble… doesn’t exactly look good on law school applications.”

“Soph and I met freshman year, too. We were roommates.”

“It’s cool you girls ended up being best friends, too.”

“It’s fun our best friends are dating. She really likes him.”

His silence is suspicious so I glance over. The expression on his face is sly.

“What?” I give him a strange look.

“You were right. You’re a real 007,” he says sarcastically.

I give a delighted laugh. I’ve been caught. “Shut up!”

I briefly wonder what kinds of things Luca and James talk about. To be a fly on the wall in that apartment… Do they share details about their conversations the way Sophia and I do? Guys are different than girls, but I still wonder what James knows about me through Sophia and Luca. Does he ask about me? I cross my fingers in my coat pocket that he hasn’t heard anything bad. Reputations can change people’s opinions, and if James catches on that I’m a little Type-A, safe and neurotic, he might run. Okay, maybe that’s the world’s worst kept secret.

A pang of déjà vu ripples through me as we approach my building. Last time we neared my place, a sense of dread enveloped me over the car ride ending. Tonight, that feeling is magnified. The longer buildup because we are on foot makes it unbearable. Between the laughter we have shared and stories we’ve told, tonight brought three hours of bliss.

“All right, miss, we have arrived.” He performs a silly bow as we stop in front of the door leading upstairs to the apartments.

“Why, thank you, sir.” I daintily curtsy back.

“Thanks for coming out tonight,” he says, softly. “I had a really good time.”

“Thank you for inviting me! I am so happy we got the chance to hang out.”

He beams at me. I wish I had a camera to capture the glowing look on his face. His eyes shimmer, an extraordinary emerald color. The radiance of his smile could light up the sky even as it warms my heart. He leans over and wraps his arms around my waist in a hug. I breathe in deep, and the smell of his cologne, fresh and masculine, wafts through me. His cheek brushes against my face as he pulls away.
Will he kiss me?
I want that. Then, there is a flutter of panic. I could royally screw this up. Tonight was perfect, and I don’t want to ruin it by being a klutzy, bad kisser.

I linger for a second before I finally look away blushing and head upstairs. This time when I enter the building, there is no uncertainty. As James turns away, I have no doubt in my mind: I have fallen for him hard, and there is no turning back.

ask James how Sunday was when I sit next to him in class. He tells me he was looking forward to Monday the whole time.

“I was, too,” I tell him, bashfully.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” He furrows his brow, feigning ignorance.

“You know, I spent Saturday night with this guy, and it was all right.” I play with my pen, a smirk curling my lips.

“It was all right?” He sounds wounded.

“Yeah, you know… Coffee, sweet compliments, great conversation. The usual.”

“Yeah, you’re right. He sounds like a real dud.”

“Totally.” I nod.

His perfectly straight teeth flash, and he leans back in his chair. He looks completely at ease, his long legs stretched below the table.

“The answer is B, by the way.” He points to the practice exam I have spread out on the desk in front of me.

“You know, nobody likes a know-it-all. Some might even call it pretentious.”

“And you would never go out with a pretentious guy.”

“Never.” I shake my head, grinning.

“So there’s no chance, then, that a girl like you would want to go out again on Friday?”

“There might be a chance.”

“Good,” he says, and the TA begins speaking.

The week is crammed with meetings, classes, and exams. On top of that, the deadline I’ve set for myself to finish my medical school applications is on Thursday. Even Sophia, in all her partying glory, buckles down. With the exception of bathroom breaks and food, we pass by each other like ships in the night, and our apartment is silent for a change, both of us intensely reviewing.

When I press the ‘submit’ button on the final application, I am jubilant.
Come spring, at least one school will give me a positive response.

“How were your exams?” Sophia drags herself into the kitchen for a drink.

“95s. I have one more tomorrow,” I tell her, my flashcards spread out in front of me. “How were yours?”

“Nice work! I got a 93 on mine!” Her eyes slowly focus behind me on our large hanging mirror. She intended it to make our living room look bigger. Instead, I’m using it as a whiteboard. She raises her eyebrows.

“Sorry… I needed to see the reaction.”

“You do what you need to do. But you better get an A so we can live together again next year… or you’ll lose your study tool.”

“Roommates for life!”

“Back to work. Our dream schools are waiting!” she exclaims optimistically as she heads back to her room with a glass of milk and a plate of cookies.