Tissue Alert Guyss!
Dev, my best friend, talked me into going out tonight. He initially wanted to go out to a bar, but I had an idea how that would end—I'm not interested in hitting on any girls who aren't Sitara Khanna. So we compromised on a local café- The Hardrock café. Dev grumbled about how a cafe was not a fun place to have a night out, but I don't see anything wrong with a plan that does not involve alcohol and girls.
At this moment, Hardrock is all I want. They have sandwiches. They have coffee. And they have donuts. Really, they've got it all.
I explain that to Dev as we're waiting in line to order, because he won't stop bitching about it. "They don't have beer," he points out.
"So we can't have a good time without beer?"
"God! Ya know, I'm not even sure who you are anymore, Chaudhary." I shrug.
The truth is, drinking alcohol has become less and less appealing to me lately. It's hard enough to get from Point A to Point B without falling even without alcohol in my system.
Now that my vision is dulled, I want all my other senses to be as sharp as possible. Namely, my sense of balance.
I let Dev order first. I hear him getting some kind of egg/bagel concoction. When he's done ordering, I hear the cashier say, "And what would he like?"
She means me. I'm "he." It will never stop pissing me off that people act like I'm not capable of answering for myself. It's a reminder of how much the whole world sees me as fundamentally different and maybe even less of a person than everyone else, thanks to my disability.
Usually, it would have pissed the hell out of me. It would have sent me in a tailspin of feeling sorry for myself. I might have snapped at the cashier. Okay, I probably would have snapped at the cashier.
But today I just lean forward and say, "I'll have a bagel with chicken salad on it with a small black coffee."
Dev helps me find an empty table and I sit down while he waits for our food. I leave my tinted glasses on because I don't want any snide jokes from Dev about how it looks like I'm staring, but I collapse my cane and stuff it in my bag.
I didn't realize how hungry I was until Dev gives me my bagel. I accidentally skipped lunch today because I was so busy practicing reading the children's book Sitara gave me. I'm reading to the kids tomorrow. I'm wicked nervous.
"The bagels at Hardrock's are the best," I say as I take a bite of my sandwich.
"You're a fucking idiot," Dev says.
"What? They're good."
"It's just..." I hear Dev chewing.
"Last time we went out, you were pissing and moaning about every little thing. Now you're acting like this café is the best thing in the world and you're smiling like a dumbass. So, just wondering... is it a girl or what?"
I can't keep myself from grinning. "It's a girl."
"Shit, I knew it!" He laughs. "Okay, congratulations, Chaudhary. Who's the lucky lady?"
"Her name is Sitara," I say. "She's a librarian."
"Ha! I always thought librarians were wicked sexy."
"Yeah. She's... incredible."
"In bed?"
I shake my head. "No. I mean, I don't know. We're not there yet. The truth is, we haven't even gone out on a date yet."
"Did you ask her?"
I rub the back of my neck. "Not yet. We're texting a lot and... I'm going to ask her."
"What—are you scared?"
"Yeah, I'm fucking scared!" I sigh. "But... I think she'll say yes. Probably. Good chance."
"When are you going to ask her then?"
"Tomorrow," I decide.
"I'm going to see her tomorrow. I'm reading to some kids at the library, and after we're done, I'll ask her to dinner."
"And then you'll tell me how she is in bed."
"You're an idiot." Dev laughs and so do I.
I take another bite of my bagel, feeling the happiest I've been in a long time.
And that's when I smell it. Even though the room is filled with the aroma of fried sugar and (slightly burnt) bagels, I can still make out the faint but very familiar smell of flowers. I lift my head and say, "Sitara?"
It's my turn to supply the break room with bagels. This is a thing we do every Tuesday at work. I don't know why Tuesdays are Bagel Day, but it's a tradition at the New Delhi Library. And tomorrow is my turn to bring the bagels for the staff and volunteers.
It's no big deal. Usually I hit Hardrocks on the way home, grab half a dozen plain bagels and half a dozen wheat bagels, as well as some butter and cream cheese. That's more than enough for everyone to get their carb rush tomorrow morning.
Except the last thing I expected when I walked into the café was to see Yash sitting there at a table.
He's with someone—the same guy he was with at that sports bar all those weeks ago. A good-looking guy with black hair and a grin that makes him seem like he's up to no good. It must be Yash's friend Dev. He told me Dev was the only friend who tolerated his bullshit after he got hurt. The two of them are laughing together as they eat their food, which makes me smile. I'm glad he's out having a good time.
And then I hear him say, "Her name is Sitara."
He's telling Dev about me. Oh my God. He's telling his best friend. About me. Because he has no clue I'm in this very store.
So I do what absolutely any woman would do in this circumstance: I eavesdrop on their conversation. I can get pretty close to them, because Dev doesn't know who I am and Yash can't see me.
I've already got my bagels, and I pretend I'm carefully picking out condiments. Salt, pepper, mayo... etc. This decision can't be rushed.
"After we're done, I'll ask her to dinner," I hear Yash say.
My heart skips a beat. He's going to ask me out tomorrow. Oh my God. This means I have to tell him the truth about myself. Sooner rather than later. Yes, I'm scared out of my mind. But I don't have a choice.
I can't let him find out on his own. He deserves to know. If we have any chance together, I have to tell him now.
As if fate hears the thoughts in my head, Yash suddenly lifts his head in the air and says, "Sitara?"
Oh no. How did he know I was here? I wasn't talking. He couldn't possibly have smelled me in this place? Could he? Is he a freaking bloodhound ? If I admit it's me, that will force the issue.
His friend Dev will see what I look like. His mother may be willing to keep silent, but this guy Dev won't.
Dev would never let his buddy go out with a girl without knowing what he's getting into.
I hear Dev laugh.
"Boy, you sure got this girl on the brain, don't you? You think she's here?"
"No, I..." Yash shakes his head. "I thought I... I usually recognize her shampoo. But... no, I was wrong. Never mind."
"Wow, you got it bad, Chaudhary."
"Yeah..."
"Well..." Dev looks around the café. I quickly duck down my head. "Maybe she really is in here. Maybe you really do have Super-smell."
"Very funny."
"There's an old lady at the counter," Dan says. "Is that Sitara? You don't really know how old she is, do you?"
"She's not an old lady, asshole."
"Oh!" He laughs. "There's this deformed girl at the counter. Maybe that's her."
I feel like all the air has suddenly left my body. I'm afraid to even breathe.
"That could be Sitara, right?" Dan presses him, although I can tell he's joking.
"Should I ask her?"
"Shut up."
"She's missing her ears and... well, she sort of has a nose... not really much of a chin..." Dev is grinning now.
"Does your Sitara have ears and a nose?"
"You're an idiot."
"Well, you don't really know Sitara isn't deformed, do you?"
"She's not deformed."
"But you don't know..." "Shut the fuck up, Dev."
"So you're saying you wouldn't date a deformed girl?"
"God! No , I wouldn't date a deformed girl, okay?"
Dev laughs like it's all a funny joke, but I feel like I got punched in the gut. Dev has described roughly what I look like to Yash, and he said outright he wouldn't date a girl who looked like that. Even if he couldn't see her. Obviously, it still matters to him.
"Sitara is pretty," Yash says. "I know she is. I mean, her voice is... she has this great voice. And I just... know."
Tears prick at my eyes. He assumes I'm pretty because he's only dated pretty girls in the past, so if he's attracted to someone, she must be pretty. And when he finds out the truth, he's not going to take it well.
"Well," Dev says, "I hope you're right."
I barely make it out to my car before bursting into tears.
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