The Six Types of Love

AYUSH

I never really realized when I stopped asking people about or social media stalking Si and Jack. I guess life kind of just took over. With everything that was going on after high school, it became easy to forget them. Especially after I stopped writing about them. For the rest of the drive, Si and I sit in a reflecting silence. For shits and giggles, I had played the playlist that I had created for The Six Types of Love. Every song is from when the two of us were growing up and I can hear Si humming along to the tunes that were there because he had liked them.

It makes me smile. This scene is so familiar, yet so different. Both of us driving down the highway in a navy-blue Lexus, windows down, music blaring, lost in our thoughts, except in a different state, twelve years later, one of us is a divorcee, and the other one predicted it in the book he wrote about us. As we get closer to Anvi's house, my excitement increases. I haven't met her in too long. How did I ever get used to not seeing her and everyone else every day?

I turn into Anvi's neighborhood and Si's jaw subtly drops. Some things never change. The houses here aren't huge, they're gargantuan, sprawling estates, each one larger and grander than the last. Si's reaction reminds me of how offended I had been when he had come to my house and then called it "too big to be homey." His comment had affected me for years. It made me question how I spent money and how other people perceived me until I became friends with people who didn't judge me for my wealth.

It's amazing how secure I became when I was finally around people who understood Indian immigrant culture. For us, spending money was not to brag, but rather something natural. There is no thought in it; it is how I and most of my friends were raised. Work your ass off, don't complain, then succeed, and live the life of your dreams. All our parents had done it. Now it's our turn. There is comfort in being around people with a similar background to me. It is important to have friends who are different, but it is equally important to have friends with the same roots. I never realized the value of the latter until I reached college and could speak Hindi with my entire social circle.

There is something beautiful about speaking the language of my ancestors in a country that they have never stepped foot in, never even knew existed. It is like telling them through the epochs that I am here, that we survived, and that I am always going to keep them and their traditions alive. To someone else, it might just be a language, but for me, every word is a love letter to the country that birthed me.

"Ayush," Si wakes me from my thoughts as I almost pass Anvi's house. I slam on the breaks and both of us violently lurch forward.

"Sorry, sorry," I apologize trying to make sure Si is good, "Are you ok?"

"Yes," He chuckles, then starts laughing.

"What?"

"Your driving still sucks," He teases.

"Oh my god," I roll my eyes, "Get the fuck out of my car."

Even I can't stop laughing then. I get out of the car and open the trunk to look for the box of chocolates I got for Anvi. I get it, close the trunk, and follow Si to the front door. He stands there awkwardly, like a child in timeout.

"Well knock," I exasperate. He nods, holds his fist against the door, then stops.

"Oh my god. Hold the chocolates," I hand him the food and slam on the door the way I used to back when we lived in the dorms. Si and I wait for a second, then hear footsteps. The door opens and I see Anvi.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to just break the door down?" She questions, giving me her deadpan expression.

"I missed you too," I smile, trying to let myself in the door, before she looks to my left and her jaw drops halfway to hell. Anvi closes her mouth and turns around. Out of all the reactions that I was expecting, this isn't one of them. She doesn't even close the door behind her.

"Maybe I should leave," Si offers.

"Shut up and come inside," I order.

"Are yo—"

Before he can finish, I grab his free hand and drag him into the house; I hear Si close the door behind me.

Barely anything has changed. The same deeply engraved grand wooden table is to the left, but this time it has shiny blue chairs around it.

"Anvi," I call out, following her into the house, "Anvi!"

I walk through the little archway into the kitchen and living room area when I don't get a response

"I didn't know when you said bring someone, you meant him," Anvi remarks once I finally see her leaning against her kitchen counter.