Page 37

JULIAN

Arush has been quiet, but I don’t think that’s unusual when we’re around people he doesn’t know well. He’s still quiet when it’s just the two of us. We’re still getting to know each other, so there’s a chance he’s just a quiet guy. I’ve been told I’m quiet.

Sharing friends isn’t a necessity. Maybe he doesn’t like my friends.

That’s okay. It’s not a criterion for a relationship to share friends.

I’ve heard the argument that it’s better when you don’t and allow yourselves to have separate lives.

Be separate people. There’s no rule stating that you need to or should share everything.

I want Arush to like my friends, but if he doesn’t, he doesn’t. That’s okay.

It might be something far simpler than that, though. I’ve surrounded him with six people he doesn’t know. He hadn’t gotten to know my four friends from Arizona, and then we added two more. That might be a lot. I’d probably be really quiet and feel a little on the spot, too.

Thankfully, we have Horny, and he’s more than happy to take the spotlight.

When Arush’s phone rings, it makes the entire group stop talking. I have an immediate bad feeling about it. He’s been in the US for three months, and his phone never rings past nine or ten in the morning. Ten, at the very latest. An eleven-hour time difference isn’t something easily worked around.

I see the unease in his face when he meets my eyes after looking at the screen. My eyes are locked on him, my heart racing as he steps a dozen feet away to take the call. All the color in his face drains and my breath leaves my body.

Oh no.

His hand covers his mouth, and I can see it tremble as he says something into the phone. He might be a dozen feet away, but I can see the tears in his eyes.

Someone has died.

His hand holding the phone comes away from his ear and he sways. I get to my feet and take him into my arms. He’s shaking. His entire body is shaking. With fear, with upset, with his tears—I’m not sure.

“What happened?” I ask, squeezing him as tightly to me as I can.

“My sister was in an accident. I need to go to her. Dad said… he wouldn’t tell me she’s okay.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. My arms tighten as the sick feeling in my gut thickens. I can’t imagine how that must feel. I don’t have siblings, but to be told that one might not make it?

“Let’s go,” I tell him. “We’ll get your suitcase from the hotel and get you on the first plane. Okay?”

Arush nods. My friends are watching, faces colored with concern. I don’t offer the reason we need to leave. That’s private and not mine to share. “I’m sorry. There’s an emergency and we need to leave.”

“Okay,” Etna says, getting to his feet. “Let us know if you need anything.”

I nod and half carry Arush through the house and to the rental car. I want to tell him it’s going to be okay. That everything will be fine. But I don’t know that it will. It doesn’t sound like it will be fine.

There are no words of comfort to offer him, so I hold his hand tightly. Arush doesn’t stop shaking the entire drive to the hotel. It’s not a long drive, but long enough that it feels like it takes ages.

We get upstairs and I sit him in the chair, crouching down to meet his eyes. “Do you need anything from the condo?” I ask. “Do you need to stop in Chicago first?”

Arush shakes his head.

“How about you pack your suitcase, and I’ll find you a flight?”

He takes a breath, and his eyes close for a minute. I watch as he wipes his eyes. He nods. “Okay.”

I hate the pain and fear in his voice.

We’re far enough inland that there are no direct flights from Phoenix to anywhere in India. I have to settle with getting him to L.A. first and then flying west across the Pacific and over Asia. Before I hit the purchase button, I look up at him.

He’s moving around slowly. Almost absently. Lost.

He didn’t say he wanted me to go home with him. I’m not sure if this is the way he’d want me to go home with him to meet his family. When one of his sisters is… not well.

I’m not sure he’s in a good place to ask right now, either. He doesn’t need the pressure of thinking about whether he should or shouldn’t have me with him. It feels really shitty of me to bring up.

What would his family think if I just showed up while they’re all worried and panicking or maybe in a time of mourning? They might feel like they have to host too and that’s a lot of pressure on them when they should be concentrating on their daughter and sister.

But making him go alone also feels wrong. It feels like abandonment. Like I’m shipping him away in a time of need.

What do I do?

Taking a breath, I hit the ‘ Purchase ’ button. While the payment is processing, I decide that I’m going to let him go home and take this time with his family. However long he needs. They need him there. They need his attention. No one needs me to intrude on that.

When he’s done, then he can come back, and we can pick up where we left off.

Right? That makes sense, right?

While I’m debating this, I watch Arush move around absently. He picks something up, pauses, and then sets it back down. He walks away and looks around.

I set my phone down and cross the room to take him into my arms, resting my forehead on the side of his head. Arush takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Let me finish packing for you.”

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t be. I’m not going to pretend I can even fathom what you’re feeling right now, but I’ll do whatever I can to support you.”

Arush nods. He blinks rapidly a few times, making a tear escape, and I watch it track down his cheek before wiping it away.

“Sit,” I say gently. “The earliest flight is at nine tonight. We’ll get you packed and ready to go.”

He nods again, though I’m not entirely convinced he’s hearing my words at all.

I guide him into the chair and then move about the room, gathering his clothing and toiletries.

He didn’t bring a lot. Just some clothes for the week and his phone.

He doesn’t have any of his personal belongings or carry-on items that he arrived in Chicago with.

I have my tablet and earbuds with me, though.

Once I have him packed up, I take off the bio-lock on my tablet and change the passcode to his birthday: 0509.

We’ll have to grab him a small pack or something for them on the way to the airport.

Or maybe the hotel shop has something. I like that better.

“I’m going to run downstairs for a minute,” I tell Arush. His head is back on the chair, eyes closed. There are tear tracks running down his face. His hands grip the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles are white.

“Okay,” he says.

“Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head.

I kiss his forehead. The urge to tell him everything will be okay has the words on the tip of my tongue. That’s a normal response when someone is upset. It’s an expected response. The reality of the words is so rarely accurate in times of deep stress.

Regardless of the outcome, Arush is not okay right now. Telling him it will be okay isn’t an assurance of anything. It’s invalidating his fears and his stress. It’s telling someone that they can stop worrying because whatever happens is going to happen.

His emotions are real, and he’s allowed to feel them without someone telling him everything will be fine when the reality is that there’s a good chance everything might never be okay again.

I don’t know what it’s like to lose a sibling.

Or even a close loved one. But I can imagine that life would never feel okay again.

There would always be that hole. An absence.

You might continue living. You might heal and accept their death. But no matter how much time goes by, you’re never going to stop missing them. Their absence will never go away. Nothing will ever be the same again.

There’s a stupidly overpriced bag in the hotel shop that I decide to purchase.

It’s the perfect size for a tablet and some chargers.

I also grab him a few snacks, though something tells me he’s likely not going to be eating much today.

There’s not a whole lot else I can grab, so I bring my gains upstairs and finish packing for him.

Arush is just where I left him in the chair. Once I’m done getting him ready, I pull him up and into my arms so I can offer him what comfort he can take from me. He feels listless. Empty. I’ve never tried to comfort someone before, and I’m not sure I’m doing a good job of it now.

“What can I do?” I ask. “What do you need right now?”

He takes a shuddering breath and shakes his head. “I don’t know that there’s anything you can do. But thank you.”

I hold him for a long time. Mostly for him, because it’s all I can think of doing. But also for me. Because I don’t know how long it’ll be before I see him again. He will come back, right? Why does the pit in my stomach leave me with doubt on that?

I choose to keep us at the hotel instead of going to the airport super early. At least he’s comfortable here, and I can keep him company. I can give him some comfort. At the airport, he’ll be on his own.

However, I don’t dare leave the airport voyage too long since there’s security to get through, and you never know how long that’ll take. Far before I’m ready to let him walk away from me, I load him and his suitcase into the rental car and head for Phoenix’s airport.

I park in short-term parking so I can go in with him. We use the self-check kiosks and then drop his suitcase off. With his hand in mind, I walk us slowly down the length of airline check-ins until we’re standing in front of TSA.

The lines aren’t ridiculous, so I bring him into my arms and hold him tightly. “The password to my tablet is your birthday—oh-five-oh-nine. There are some snacks, too. Make sure you call when you land. I don’t care what time it is. Okay?”

Arush nods. His fingers dig into my back as he hugs me fiercely.

“This isn’t goodbye,” I promise. “I’ll see you soon, but take all the time you need with your family.”

He nods again. I’m not even sure he’s hearing me.

I keep him in my arms for as long as I dare, but I can’t let him miss his plane. Not when it’s this important. I cup his face in mine and wait for him to meet my eyes. “Call me. Promise?”

Arush’s smile isn’t happy. It’s small and sad, and the fear in his eyes makes my chest tight. I feel so helpless. “Promise,” he answers.

“Go. Don’t miss the plane.”

He nods and then presses his lips to mine. My eyes close, and for just a moment, the world falls away.

But it’s over too soon, and he’s heading for the security line. I watch until he’s no longer in sight before turning to the exit. Even though I promised that we’d be together again, it feels like he just walked out of my life.

Three months with Arush Bakshi isn’t enough. Forever won’t be long enough. But his family needs him, which means I need to let him go.