Tuesday was a blessing to my tired self. Classes weren't as brutal and a simple nap after my eight am class did wonders to my emotional stability. I shed all the Monday blues and promised myself that this year would be different. I would explore, meet new people, get out of my shell. None of that staying in the room, cocooned in a blanket, memorising the ceiling, and scrolling through cricket stats on my phone bullshit. No, this year, my room was only meant for catching up on sleep and that's it.
I needed to step out more. I wanted to give a good answer when someone asked me what my hobbies were. Just yesterday, in class, when prof had paired us up for the rest of the term, my partner and I tried to figure out how to divide the work between us when our thoughts soon meandered somewhere way further than it was supposed to go. He babbled about how he loved skateboarding and hiking and sometimes camping out in the forests when the chill was bearable. The focus shifted on me then when he asked what I did in my free time.
What did I do in my free time?
I slouched on my side of the room and stared at the dry wall above my roommate's bed, wondering how my life would have been had my diagnosis not come to light. I rewatched tapes of back when I still had dreams to pursue and records to break. When academics was so far out of my head, I didn't even know how to spell it. I scrolled through YouTube, picking each video highlight of Arya's and scrutinising it till my eyes bled.
My answer ended up being even more basic than baking soda. I don't have free time.
So, to prove my words of not having enough free time, I decided to get a job. That, and my bank balance was starting to thin.
Accepting a part-time job as a receptionist at a physical rehab centre might not have been the most glamorous job for most, but for me, it was a life jacket to save me from the whirlpool I was drowning in. My major was kinesiology, and I was hoping to have a hands-on approach to actually learning what people of my major even do. Of course, staying on the outside and smiling at people as they entered would not get me anywhere, but perhaps the therapists there could provide me with some pointers.
The lady, Rebecca, who took my interview seemed a little fascinated by my major and I had a slight inkling she gave me the job upfront because of that.
A few seconds after she dropped the nuke saying I got the job, she ushered me into the break room, handed me three new bright green polos that had H&P, Health and Prosper, embroidered in blue on the top left, and then had her fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging me behind her as she gave me a tour of the centre that I was sure I wouldn't remember the next day.
Couple more formalities later and I officially signed off on my first job, and this was the very first interview I even sat on!
Jessica called the moment I walked out of the sliding doors of the rehab centre, and the spring in my step seemingly had an effect on my voice, too.
"You sound like you're spitting rainbows," she said.
"I got a job!"
"Really? Congratulations, Neil! Where? When? What are you going to be doing?"
"Okay, I know it doesn't sound too fancy, but I feel like this is a good direction for figuring out what I want to do after graduation. You're talking to the new receptionist at Health & Prosper, because only with good health can you prosper."
"That sounds like something a salesman would say when he's trying to sell coupons for a clinic."
"I'm not a salesman. H&P is this physical rehabilitation clinic nearby. It's close enough to walk. The hours are not too bad. I get Mondays off, and the pay is decent." I felt a wetness graze my cheek. The sky swirled in shades of grey with dark clouds hanging around like they belonged.
"Plus, you can get good career advice. It's a sweet and advantageous gig. Good for you."
"Thanks, Jess." I cradled my phone between my shoulder and cheek as I rushed across the street and into a cafe. If it was about to rain or drizzle or whatever, I had no reason to be exposed to it. I was in a good, no, splendid mood after what felt like an eternity, and I planned on making it stick for a while. "So, what's up with you? Classes started?"
"Yeah, last Monday. Dude, I forgot why I called you! I'm coming to Vancouver for the weekend," she said as though she came to Vancouver every weekend.
"Shit! For real?"
"There's this hackathon I participated in over the summer that I forgot about. Somehow, I qualified and the finals are in Vancouver. So, yep, I'm coming to your place."
"Awesome! How long you got?" I went straight to the cashier, ordered a large Mocha, extra dark—those clouds weren't going away anytime soon—and ambled to the table at the extreme corner where I was surrounded by walls on two sides.
"I'll land on Friday. Saturday is the conference. I'm free on Sunday. Monday, early morning, I leave."
"Aw, that's too less."
"We had the entire summer, Neil." She said it with an accompanied laugh, but the guilt still came at me in gushes.
Jessica was the closest thing to family I had in this half of the world, though we often joked we didn't know how we were related. Maybe it was a joke to her, but I was serious. I honestly had no clue how we were related. All I knew was that we shared DNA, and some bits of my blood flowed in her veins and vice versa. Other than my parents and sister, she was the only family member I genuinely gave a shit about.
And in the summer, I showed just how much shit I gave by never leaving my room and turning down all her offers to hang out. I didn't have the strength to face anyone. My bruises were too fresh and my will power was still too low. Also, I knew if I stepped out alone, there was only one place I would go, and it was the exact place where I didn't know if I was welcome anymore. I had grown up in Arya's home, the same way he did in mine. It wouldn't even have been on purpose. My legs would've just instinctively taken me there, to the place where we wrestled on the floor in the living room for the controller, where we played with Stevie the lab in the backyard, making sure to steer clear of his grandfather's flowers, where we raided the fridge every evening, where we learned how to love each other, where we shared our game-strategies and dreams and hopes and lives.
Every single thing in Hyderabad reminded me of him. There wasn't a molecule surrounding me in that city which didn't show me what we once had. What I could never have again.
"So, uhm," my voice turned thicker, "how's that master's hottie you were chasing? Did he catch a hint?" I tried shooting a smile at the server who brought my coffee. She didn't care much for it.
"Oh, Neil." I didn't need to see her to feel her lovey-dovey eyes. "So much happened. There's so much to tell you. But, but, but, we're going to do it face to face. Now, tell me, do you need anything from here? You want me to buy you something?"
"Just bring your whole self in one piece here and I'll be good. And get lots of thermals. I swear, they say it's summer, but my balls are still freezing."
"You need to get laid, man."
"Don't start."
"Okay then, lots of thermals and a winning spirit. I'll bring loads of cuddles and huggies, too."
"See ya soon, Jessie!"
I cut the call, put my phone on silent and powered on my laptop. The past two terms went exceedingly well, and yes, I worked my ass off to get that perfect grade for a scholarship. Which also meant that if I wanted to keep the scholarship, I needed to leave my grade right where it was.
The coffee turned cold, and the very first sip I took left me grimacing. But my disgust didn't last long when I caught sight of the redhead sitting on the barstool in front of the huge bar table.
The same startling auburn shade, the slight stubble on his cheek, strong forearms peeking out from his henley. He was right there, with his chin on his palm as he stared out the enormous glass window overlooking the street. It had turned dark, and the streetlamps were turned on; the dull yellow casting shadows on his cheeks.
Go say hi. Stop behaving like a donut and use your words.
But what would I even say? He was the one who took my number, and he was the one who didn't show any sign of wanting more. No call. No text. No nothing.
Maybe I should leave things the way they are. Arya always said I overthink a lot. Always searching for deeper meaning when there's none. So, what if he was well spoken and charming? I didn't know this guy. All I did was project my fantasies on him and forced my brain to think he was the one. Just for one night, I didn't want to be my pathetic self, and that man made it possible. To him, I was a pity-fuck, some miserable dude in the corner of a bar, desperately wishing for the world to stop spinning for one goddamn second. A rando he could pick up, tease with a good time, and leave him wanting more. He must've felt real good about himself when he left me writhing on the wall, with my legs turned to jelly and my breaths coming out in sputters.
I slumped in my chair and hid behind my open laptop. I had to forget that night. It never happened, and that redhead was nothing more than a one-night stand that was too good to be true.
My focus shifted to the open PDFs on my screen. Another perfect grade, ensure the scholarship is where it belongs.
But I couldn't even begin to make sense of the words in front of me. My eyes kept going back to him. He was at the edge of the stool now. His dark, bushy eyebrows were scrunched as he pressed down on his notebook, scribbling sentences he made sense of from his laptop. Dark green veins popped behind his pale hand and followed intricate lines all the way up his wrist and forearm before disappearing beneath his rolled-up sleeves. All he needed to do was turn to his right and focus a little, and he could see me.
I slumped further. Enough that I was out of his vision, but I still had a clear picture of him.
Look away. Mind your business.
How could I? My mind was too captivated by the way the outside vehicle headlights flickered across his face, bouncing off his features. Yellows, and blues, and reds. The glow caressed his skin, carving his cheeks and jaw. They all came together to show the world his raw beauty. I wanted to still time and capture this magnificence in physical form. The curve of his elbow, the grip of his fingers, the slight bend in his back, the pondering frown on his lips, the heel of his boot on the footrest, everything.
My hands, after years of dormancy, itched for a pad of paper and pencil to imprint him in the way I best knew how.