The Six Types of Love

AYUSH

I have to hand it to him. Si still looks good in a suit. I remember in high school whenever we would have all school masses, I would practically swoon when I saw him in his white button-down shirt and tie. Even a divorce couldn't take away his class. In the past half an hour, the café has filled up quite a lot. There are a few people from the film, but they probably assume that I am in a business meeting because of Si's attire, so they won't interrupt us. Plus, they all know that I have to leave to see Anvi anyway. We haven't seen each other in a few months, and we always make it a point to see each other whenever both of us are in the city.

Anvi said she would make an early lunch for me at her parent's house in New Jersey, and if we had time, she could show me some coffee shops and bookstores. At first, it was weird being able to take for granted that almost any bookstore would have copies of my novels. Even now, I'm not fully used to it, but at least it stopped being surprising.

"How long are you in the city for?" I ask Si, trying to cut the silence between us, not because it's awkward, but because it feels too habitual. He doesn't want to tell me why he doesn't come home and I don't want to force him.

"Well, I was going to be here till the end of the week because of client meetings, but then they got canceled, so I don't really know what I'm going to do. What are your plans?" Si asks dejectedly. I take a second to respond, deliberating. I feel bad for him.

"Flying out tonight to Italy to look for locations to expand Rang," I start, "I'm meeting a friend first though."

"Do I know them?" He asks. I gave him a look that is supposed to kindly remind him we aren't in high school anymore and he barely knows any of my friends.

"Sorry, force of habit," He apologizes, "I probably don't know them."

Old habits die hard.

"Don't be," I console, trying to make up for his remorse, "Her name is Anvi. She was my roommate in college."

I leave my explanation there, not wanting to volunteer any more information till he does. I am not sure how much I want to tell him about after high school. There is a level of separation that I worked hard to achieve between the childhood and adulthood versions of myself. Si doesn't get to experience the unfiltered version of this new me until I permit him to.

I think about how many times I thought about this exact conversation playing out. How many times I had considered what would happen if I ran into him back at home at Phoenix Mall or Graters: what I would say, what I would ask, what I was dying to know? Had this happened even right after I just graduated college, I feel like I would have had so much more to talk about. However, I have nothing, so I ask Si about his ex. He winces a little.

"His name was Joel," Si considers where to start, "The company he worked for was one of my clients."

He stops, not wanting to talk about it anymore, and takes a bite of his half-eaten breakfast.

"I'm sorry," I take a sip of my coffee.

"Don't be," He shakes his head, "What time do you have to leave?"

"Soon actually," I say with some level of regret. I pause, realizing that if I didn't follow my whims, I wouldn't be here today, "Why?"

"I was hoping I could meet you later tonight, before your flight leaves. Only if you want to," He adds. Did Si just initiate a plan with me? The boy who I begged for years to even text me first just asked me to meet him for dinner within an hour and a half of our first intentional meeting after twelve years of no contact. I open my mouth, close it, and open it again to respond before Si cuts me off.

"Never mind, sorry I asked. I don't want to make you change any of your plans," He apologizes.

"Come with me now," I offer instead, "Come with me to meet Anvi."

"Are you sure?"

"Bro, I know her. She won't care. In fact, she'll probably be excited to finally meet the iconic Sebastian Williams," I laugh, saying the fake name I had given Si in The Six Types of Love. He gives an uncomfortable chuckle, and I can tell I've struck a nerve.

"But seriously. She won't care."

"I'll come. Should I get her anything," He asks, throwing me off guard, "Isn't it custom for Indians to give someone something the first time you go to their house?"

"Someone cooked there," I tease, "How do you know that?"

"You do know I had Indian friends other than you right?" He goads back. I pull out my phone to text Anvi:

Me: Heyyyyy, so I might be bringing someone with me

Anvi: who

Me: You shall see

Anvi: kk

Si tells me that he has to go up to change and get his stuff. While he does that, I go to the valet and request they bring my rental car to the front of the hotel. As I am waiting for Si, I think about how absolutely bizarre the last twenty-four hours have been. If I tried to tell the college version of me, the one that had finished The Six Types of Love and conceptualized Love's Fire, what had transpired, he would lose his mind.

There would be no way that Ayush would believe anything that had happened in the last twelve years: all my accomplishments and growth. I think he would also be surprised about only meeting Si again now. I still remember sitting in my freshman-year dorm deliberating whether to call Si or not, my thumb hovering over his number. I'm glad I didn't do it. It's the reason I am where I am.

There is some consolation in knowing that I am unrecognizable to every previous version of myself and this version of myself will not recognize any future version of me.