The Rearranged Life (22 page)

“Wow, violent bunch, aren’t you?”

“Just passionate,” he says good-naturedly. “She told me to go out with you after we met, and I listened, so we’ve clearly made amends.”

“Did she now?”

“Yup. She said you were the coolest Indian girl she’s met.”

“That’s flattering. She seems smart.”

“Yeah, she is… I mean, I think she’ll go into fashion or something artsy when she gets older. It’s better for her, since she has a little trouble with reading.”

“Did you get her a tutor or anything?” I take a sip of water. I figure Nishanth’s parents would pull all the stops if their little girl was having a problem.

“Well… yes. Actually.” He hesitates. “She has dyslexia. She received a lot of help so it’s gotten better over the years, but she’s not very confident with reading information. She’s better with things where she can use her hands and create. Her brain works better that way.”

“I’m glad your family is supportive. I’m sure it’s really helpful.” I almost tell him about how much tutoring I needed with chemistry in high school and college, and how sometimes extra help goes a long way. I change my mind at the last second.

“Yeah, they are. No one really knows she has it. We’ve kind of kept it a secret.”

“How come?”

“Well, you know how it is. Things get blown out of proportion, and sometimes our community isn’t very understanding with disabilities and what they perceive as flaws.” His fingers curl around his glass. “It’s just easier to keep up appearances, isn’t it?”

I think about what he’s said and acknowledge it with pursed lips. It is tough, I realize, for anything less than perfection. The competitiveness in the community can often translate into weakness if someone doesn’t seem to measure up. Most of the time, the kids in our generation escape unscathed, becoming bright stars in academia. In other cases, like Indrani’s, some people would see her as lacking.

The waitress delivers our bill, giving an extra cheerful “Happy New Year!” Nishanth gives her a big tip. We walk to the Waterfront where an ice skating rink sprawls, surrounded by twinkly lights and flags.

“Do you want to skate?”

“You look like a penguin, and I look like an ice dancer!” I point at his suit, and he bellows a laugh before conceding.

So, we stand at the wall and watch couples glide by, holding hands. The fireworks will go off in a few minutes, and the chatter fills the air. Teenagers are nearby; they burn popsicle sticks in a garbage can with words written on them, summaries of what they want to be rid of from the year past. I would write
uncertainty
.

New Year’s Eve always brims with optimism, the only day out of the year to hold such promise, where everyone can begin with a blank slate. I love that.

“So what do you want this year?” Nishanth turns to me.

“Resolution,” I answer after a moment’s pause.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to make?”

“Yeah, but I want some clarity. This year, I’ll know where I’ll go to medical school. I’ll graduate. I’ll make big choices. I want to know, with certainty, that I’m heading where I need to be.”

“I guess I understand that.” The countdown to midnight starts up as he speaks.

Everyone around us begins screaming, “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“What do you want?” I ask above the noise.

“New beginnings,” he replies, loudly enough for me to hear but softly enough that it is meant only for me. “New people. New places. Fresh starts.”

I get the feeling he’s talking about more than new business ventures.

His face is inches away, and his eyes bore deep into mine. Brown meets brown, and it feels like they belong as one. As he gets closer, painfully slow and way too fast, James’ face flashes inside my eyelids as he says, “I want to be with you.”

My heart races. I don’t have time to pinpoint whether I want Nishanth to kiss me because I like him or because I want to forget James. Nishanth’s lips are about to touch mine.

Do it, Nithya. James isn’t important. Nishanth is so good for you.

My eyes close and I wait for his kiss, feeling like tonight could really be a new beginning. His hand pulls me in at the small of my back.

Boom!

A firework, enormous and red, explodes and showers the river with burning debris. We pull apart, jumping at the noise, and laugh out of nerves. The couples around us kiss and I take a picture of us on my cell phone, cuddled up in the frigid air. Nishanth looks like he wants to try again, but I point out some skating children, their cheers loud and full of life. Someone hands me a party popper, and I snap the end off, spraying confetti and sparkles all over us. Despite the missed kiss, it feels like we’re starting something new tonight. The celebration seems appropriate.

“We ate enough macaroni to feed a hippo, how are you still hungry?” he whispers as we raid the fridge when we get home.

Our parents and siblings are thankfully asleep, so there are no nosy questions.

“I always have an appetite for ice cream.” Our faces glow in the refrigerator light.

We plant ourselves across from each other in the same bay window we sat in during Thanksgiving weekend.

“So are you getting a job after graduation?” I whisper.

“Yeah, probably. I may work for a corporation to gain some skills before setting off on my own. How about you? Where are your interviews?” He shoves a spoonful of banana split into his mouth.

“Emory, Baylor, and Columbia.”

“The big Columbia interview! Are you excited?”

“I am trying to keep my expectations low. Then I won’t be disappointed.”

“You’ll have nothing to be disappointed about. You sound like you’re super involved, really intelligent, and social. You have to get this.”

“Thanks, that really means a lot to me,” I say softly.

“So, I can’t believe I never asked this, but why do you want to be a doctor?”

I open my mouth, fully intent on being honest and telling him what I told James: that I don’t know anything else. But the words get stuck in my throat. My breaths become shallower as I begin to panic. What is stopping me from telling him the truth?
Don’t be a coward, Nithya, just tell him you don’t know what else you’d be good at.
He’ll understand.

But the words don’t come.

Instead, I remember him calmly ask me for cereal and brush off our conversation to Anisha as if it didn’t matter, and then never again text me to talk about it. And I remember his comment about Indrani’s dyslexia,
it’s just easier to keep up appearances than to be honest about it.
And the remarks about being in love with Anna, but the conveniences mattering more than she did. The catch with Nishanth, I finally realize, as the breath stops in my chest, is that I would always have to meet his expectations. I would hide if something bothered me, and play the doting girlfriend. The ease of being with him, of going along with the pretense, was a selling point until now. Suddenly, it seems like a life sentence.

I finally exhale.

“Because I want to help people,” I say.

awn breaks, and the morning light shines through my blinds. I’ve been up, showered and dressed, for an hour. Wrapped in my Penn State throw blanket, I stare at the anarkali hanging off the back of my chair. The embroidery sparkles in yellows and oranges, catching the colors of the rising sun.

In many ways, it looks like the path I’m supposed to take. Pristine, clean, uncomplicated. Bright. But when I look closer, the flaws make it interesting. A sequin spiral twists in the opposite direction from the others. A small tear lies above the sparkling silver border near the bottom, a result of tripping on it as I got up from the dinner table last night. As I put it back on the hanger, I catch the faint scent of Nishanth’s cologne.

It’s all in the tiny, mismatched details. What most would see as mistakes on an otherwise perfect piece of fabric are what I now see as the most fascinating stories. The out-of-sync spiral makes me think of a tailor in India, huddled in a mud house, distracted by shouts of her three children dressed in rags outside. The small tear reminds me how Nishanth offered his hand with a chuckle as I tried to catch my balance. The cologne makes me feel his arms around me.

A soft knock at the door makes me look up.

“Good morning, beautiful!” Nishanth holds two cups of coffee.

“Good morning! This is so sweet,” I tell him gratefully.

You can’t argue that he’s thoughtful
.
Ten points for kindness.
Then my logic chimes in again.
It’s not a game and if you couldn’t admit that you’re not sure about why you’re pursuing your goals, you’ll never be able to admit anything else.

“Did you sleep well?” He towers over me before I scoot down and offer him a seat.

“I woke up really early. Sometimes my mind goes a little too fast for me.”

“I know the feeling. I just kept thinking about last night and how fun it was.”

“It was a really wonderful time,” I agree, thinking of the playful teasing and the delicious food. I did enjoy myself.

“And I kept thinking about how badly I wanted to do this…” He brushes the hair out of my face and moves in.

This time, my mind doesn’t race ahead. It doesn’t doubt. I know what to do.

“Nishanth.” I gently put my hand on his chest and turn my head so he kisses my cheek.

“What’s wrong?” He searches my eyes for an answer.

“I just don’t think this is the right time.”

“We can do it later.” His mischievous smile makes me laugh.

“I like you. So much,” I tell him truthfully. “But there’s someone on my mind right now, and I need to know if there’s something… and until I do, I can’t… and shouldn’t only give you a part of me.”

He looks wounded, but recovers fast. “Wow, second place again. You’re going to give me a complex.”

“Thank you,” I say genuinely, knowing he understands exactly what I mean.

He gently touches my cheek and says nothing, only getting up and leaving the room.

Nishanth and his family leave after lunch, a flurry of goodbyes at the door. Hugs go around. Madhu Aunty and Amma are already planning a shopping trip next month in Baltimore, where the Dhavalas live.

“Ugh, these weekends always go by too fast,” Anisha whines.